Power Dive

Nostalgia generates some odd feedback loops at times. Although looking at the age of the members of Acid Blade, the old school power metal vibe they leverage is a piece of history rather than memory for them. And then there’s the 70s sci-fi aesthetic of the cover art, reminding us that classical heavy metal’s fantastical preoccupations also came with a considerable dose of futurism. Meaning that the futurism that Acid Blade harken back to on this album is oddly forgotten, a quaint throwback to a time when civilisational futures were a given and not the dread question mark they are today.

What of the music then? Acid Blade are everything that is both great and obnoxious about German heavy metal, in that it is entirely free of irony. On the one hand, this gives it a sincerity, freedom, and joy that British and US counterparts are just unable to match. We can’t help but wink at the audience and let them know that it’s all for show, or worse, a sarcastic façade. On the other hand, it also means that if a listener is not willing to meet the Germans in the moment, and embrace the shameless bombast, energetic intensity, and childlike sense of wonder, the whole thing will just collapse into the ridiculous.

Acid Blade sit at the apex of this tension for their debut album ‘Power Dive’. As an expression of the idea of metal as it was in the early 1980s it is near flawless. Soft, organic production elevates the dual lead guitar attacks to front and centre, drums a subtle and bass laden pounding beneath, lending the mix weight and gravitas. Sharp bass lines cut through at key junctures, expanding the melodic jigsaws of each piece. And of course, soaring metal croons pontificating on jeopardy and fantasy in equal measure.

It is of course redundant to speak of what Acid Blade bring to the table in terms of originality. Rather, one would want to say that its encouraging that such naivety and sincerity still has a home within the cynicism of metal’s modern lexicon. But one cannot help but sniff out an air of the sinister even within this risk free sanctuary. The relentless drive to energy, speed, intensity, amped to eleven from start to finish. Escapism morphing into denialism. A patchwork of ancillary noise and activity deployed to cover up our true misgivings about the state of the planet. Heavy metal of this kind reaches into the past or into fantasy not as outlet, but as the only choice remaining for those interested in psychological survival.

Originally published at Hate Meditations