Dead Revolution

To make traditional rock or metal music, one essentially needs two things. First, you require a stylistic point of reference, usually a period in musical history whose sound is worthy of transmission from past generations to the next. Examples are the late 60s and early 70s, when prog and hard rock achieved they their “classic” forms, or ten years later when the NWOBHM was laying the foundations for underground metal. Evidently, a lot of bands are able to make it to this point. That’s why we have retro rock, retro prog, retro doom . . . retro everything nowadays. However, to make such music stick, there is a second, much trickier requirement. There has to be something distinctive about an aspiring band, a salient aspect of its own experience that is able to live up to the particular “tradition” it is trying to further. It’s all fine and well to be faithful to the sound of a certain era, but in order to convince you have to exemplify its spirit in novel ways.

In my opinion, San Francisco’s Hammers of Misfortune has always been a band that managed to score strongly on both accounts. On each of their albums, these clever Californians have displayed a vast knowledge of what was going on in American and British popular music between 1969 and 1983 (give or take a year). Fair credit for this achievement goes to John Cobbett, the group’s guitarist and principal songwriter whose inventive compositions range from soothing folk and heady prog to stomping rock and virulent thrash. But what truly sets the Hammers apart are Cobbett’s colourful lyrics, which are often socio-critical or political in nature. Mind you, these are no tender-hearted musicians who sing about the plight of the whales to bask in the radiance of their own beautiful souls. These are streetwise artists whose ruminations are fueled by their life experiences in an environment that is often just as hostile as it is appealing. In 2011, Cobbett & co discussed the gentrification of San Francisco’s Bay Area on their fifth record, 17th Street. On tracks like the gripping "The Day the City Died", the band decried this process of rapid urban transformation, in which high tech companies and high income residents drive up the price of living, thus forcing many of those less fortunate people (including artists) to leave town. Almost 5 years later, the Hammers continue this theme with Dead Revolution, a song-oriented and hard-rocking album which is their most accessible to date.

The Hammers’ latest opus features seven compositions. You’ll just have to forgive me for mentioning them all, since there is nary a single note of filler to be found across the record. "The Velvet Inquisition" kicks off the revolution with a barrage of percussion until lead vocalist Joe Hutton begins his crooning ascent alongside throbbing bass and chiming guitars. His husky baritone, which bears resemblance to John Wetton’s, is a perfect fit for the proggy, yet rocking atmosphere. The chorus is not really a chorus, but a lengthy sequence of riffs in which Cobbett demonstrates his excellent sense of dynamics. Heavy metal guitarists take note. This is how you write compelling climaxes.

The adrenaline keeps flowing with the energetic title track, a prog metal bruiser which fuses Cobbett’s Blitzkrieg riffage with Sigrid Sheie’s enveloping Hammond organ. "Flying Alone" is another speedy rocker which evokes Deep Purple and Uriah Heep during their most immediate moments. But the band is also capable of writing some touching slower tunes like "Sea of Heroes" or "Here Comes The Sky". The former is a spacey song which veers into Floydian atmospheres and Queen-like theatrics, while the latter unleashes the sound of dreamy desolation, an excellent exhibit of rootsy rock with touches of King Crimson and Ennio Morricone.

True highlight of the record is the epic "The Precipice (Waiting for the Crash…)", which throws all of the aforementioned influences together. Frenzied guitars and howling organ mimic the noise of a racing train. From time to time the tempo drops, perhaps to underscore the confusion of the hapless passengers. Ominous vocal harmonies forecast the impending doom, but there is no way to avert the coming crash. All the instruments lock in for a magnificently groovy bridge which builds towards a bubble-bursting climax in which Cobbett flies solo towards the end.

But the end is never really the end. There is always a remainder, a golden nugget of dogged humanity reminding us of the possibility to begin again. The Hammers close up shop in a fitting manner with a glorious rendition of the folk traditional "Days of ’49", a beautiful piece of rugged nostalgia that was also covered by the likes of Bob Dylan and Fairport Convention. Cobbett gives the song a doom makeover but the timeless lyrics are preserved: “They call me a bummer and a ginsot too, but what cares I for praise?” It’s an ode to the workmanlike attitude of countless street poets who articulated the burdens of the California Dream. In a master stroke, Hammers of Misfortune establishes a connection between multiple, often irreconcilable traditions: hardcore punks and underground metalheads of the 1980s, 70s freaks, 60s hippies and pre-war folkies and bohemians. Their revolution is now dead, appropriated by corporations and perverted by the lure of big money. And yet, traces of resistance remain. We owe a debt of gratitude to Cobbett and his friends for showing us that some passions can never be extinguished. If no guarantee for a happy existence, they may be crucial to our very survival.

John Cobbett is one of the most underrated American metal composers and he’s proving yet again that everyone should praise his name by unleashing the new Hammer of Misfortune record five years after the somewhat underwhelming 17th Street. Let’s jump into this mysterious world illustrated by this futuristic, apocalyptic and totally bonkers artwork. It’s an odd fit to the band’s modern yet timeless musical qualities.

The main characteristic of this album is its expansiveness or its richness. It might feel bloated at times but it’s the good kind of bloated, the “ohhh man this Chinese buffet was so good but I just ate two weeks worth of food” way. The seven songs are all mostly on the long side but they contain an impressive array of excellent riffs and never overstay their welcome. They’re one of the sole bands combining super heavy riffs with organ and piano in a tasteful and meaningful way. In fact, if you look for the definition of “progressive metal” in a 2016 dictionary, the name of this band should be the first one listed. They mix the idiosyncratic classic side of Peter Gabriel’s Genesis and the atmospheric power of Pink Floyd with a bunch of metal styles (from speed, thrash to power and epic heavy metal) in one consistent offering. It also feels heavier and much more metallic than most of their material (especially the latest two albums). They really manage to never forget that they’re first and foremost a metal band unlike, I don’t know, Dream Theater who just released a two hours sappy opera full of ballads.

The album is pretty varied, two examples would be the track full of acoustic guitars and a slight Spaghetti Western feel (“Here Comes the Sky”) and the one song channeling Bruce Springsteen in a old traditional folk way with the epic closer “Days of ‘49”. The amount of stuff found in this 46 minutes album could fill a double album made by an unfocused and less talented band.

The guitars are inventive and always interesting, the style of Cobbett has always been one of the biggest strengths of both Hammers of Misfortune and the albums he did with Slough Feg. The leads in the hard rocking “Flying Alone” are through the roof but they’re always done in good taste and aren’t shallow and overly technical. This dude can definitely play anything (hear his involvement in the genre bending Vhol if you’re still unsure).

Mike Scalzi’s departure from the band after The Locust Years was a bit of a letdown, I think Church of Broken Glass/Fields and 17th Street were transitional albums vocal wise. Now that it’s Joe Hutton’s second album with the Hammers, I feel that he’s much more comfortable with his microphone. He sounds really good on Dead Revolution and handles all the lead vocals (Hammers often had lead vocals sung by band members Leila Abdul-Rauf, Sigrid Sheie or former female vocalists on their former albums). We’re still served a lot of background vocals by these two though and it adds yet another layer to the band’s opulent musical palette.

Sure, Hutton often has the same gruff approach to clean vocals that Scalzi (now focusing solely on Slough Feg) and he tries to emulate him but he does it extremely well. He can be surprising too, the melodies on the supremely good opener “The Velvet Inquisition” almost reminds me of Muse with their operatic flair.

All in all, Hammers of Misfortune is one of the most intelligent bands playing metal right now and they released their best album since The August Engine. Essential listening for those looking for adventurous music mixing the genres effortlessly but without restraints.

Originally published on The Metal Observer
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