Behind the Blackest Tears

The second offering from this collaboration between Jamey Jasta of Hatebreed and Kirk Windstein of Down and Crowbar essentially proves once and for all that this short-lived effort has no real staying power and is better served with its participants enjoying their more famous other bands as their main priority.

This is mainly brought about by the fact that the two respective genres being mashed up, hardcore and sludge, are at the opposite ends of the spectrum in terms of style and delivery. Hardcore is more up-tempo, features faster-paced song styles and employs a more hostile mentality, preferring to get in and do its damage quickly and to the point. Sludge is slower, more reserved and laid back, not really concerned with inflicting damage at all and opting to wear the listener down with its weight and oppressive heaviness. Right off the bat, that conflict of styles should be red flags that this is going to be hard to mesh and be cohesive, as ‘Envision the Divide,’ ‘Along the Path to Ruin’ and ‘With Barely a Breath’ prove that the mixing and matching here is just flat-out awkward, as those tend to be slow dregs that are given hoarse, raspy shouts over the top that are just uncomfortable at times and embarrassing at others. ‘Sleeping Beast’ also falls into this category, though that at least maintains a solid-enough chorus to work amidst it all the while it still showcases just how awkward and out-of-place the two styles really are.

The main element that sticks out between all these songs is the fact that the heaviness and slow-paced sludge material is just completely at odds with the faster hardcore material. When the material calls for Jasta to let loose with the backing gangland shouts so often associated with the genre, we’re given a down-tuned, agonizing riff that just destroys any momentum that the song might have, and then when it’s combined with the relative brevity of the whole album, since none of these songs barely crack over four minutes in length, it’s over so quickly the end result is complete dissatisfaction. Even more frustrating is that, at times, there’s brief shining nuggets where it seems as though the band has something going for it, namely ‘God’s Law in the Devil’s Land’ where it manages to up the tempo just slightly enough to make the barking seem on key for the most part and the title track, with its meaty riff-work and soulful crooning might appear to be the blueprint for this project to follow if it moves forward.

None of those elements would work, though, if the record didn’t have the feeling of utter laziness, with the impression of it sounding a lot like Windstein wrote a textbook Crowbar record with the kind of similar-styled riffs recycled or lightly modified to get from point A to point B, the kind of songs that he can probably write in his sleep, and then Jasta came down and laid some guest vocals on it. It’s absolutely lazy and doesn’t seem like this side-project is any different than a studio session the two participated in and just happened to release, since those unfamiliar with their intention might perceive this as Jamey doing guest vocals on a Crowbar album, and again when the style clash this much, it’s not a good time.

[ Originally written for http://www.fueled-magazine.com ]

Kingdom of Sorrow, whatever else you might have to say about them for good or bad, are a real curve from left-field. For all that Hatebreed mainman Jamey Jasta likes to keep himself busy with an absolute cornucopia of extreme music mainstays (see his side project Icepick for the biggest pile-up of hardcore stalwarts since, well, the last time you were dog-piled by a bunch of hardcore kids), even for him, a collaboration with Kirk Windstein, of Down and Crowbar fame, just doesn’t seem to sound quite right. Go on, say it aloud to yourself; Hatebreed meets Crowbar. The two just don’t seem to gel, do they?

But for all the strange cognitive dissonance the concept creates in the mind, Kingdom of Sorrow are a very real entity, having put out two albums in as many years during Hatebreed and Crowbar’s downtime – the first of which being poorly received to say the very least, with the album being seen as the aural equivalent of an impossibly awkward first date that was doomed from the start. But let’s put that aside for a second. These two are some of the most forceful songwriting personalities operating in heavy music today – given a little warm-up time, surely they can pull something truly killer out of their collaborative hat?

Urm... well, no. Not exactly.

There a fair few boxes to be ticked off in the ‘negatives’ section of this record, but the one deserving of the biggest pen tick of all is the one marked, quite clearly, ‘ELEMENTS DO NOT MIX IN THE FIRST PLACE.’ And it’s true. Keep telling yourself the unhurried stomp of hardcore and the soporific slowness of sludge might just be compatible aspects, but one listen to KoS proves otherwise. The two elements constantly jar and clash – the treacle-thick, muddy riffs sit badly with Jasta’s trademark bellowing, and whenever an attempt is made to steer the music into punky anthem territory, the endeavour is waylaid by Windstein’s pensive snarl, the end result coming off as simply too downbeat to get fists raised and pumping.

If the elements don’t exactly gel, then one might expect their songwriting chops to save the day, but alas, it seems it was not to be. For one thing, the album is damn short, moving at a brisker pace than you might expect from an album in either genre. It’s not as though KoS put their heads down and thrash out at any point – the songs here are simply short, unadventurous, and essentially devoid of flair, though the directness of their intent is at least admirable. But still, you can’t help but feel that ideas were in short supply when this record was being put together – very little of it will linger on in your memory once the record has stopped spinning on the death deck.

Having said all this, it’s fair to point out that this is hardly reprehensible listening. Far from it; now and again, KoS stumble upon something approaching genre-mashing brilliance, producing the insanely catchy title track or the sterling ‘God’s Law in the Devil’s Land’, and at no point during the rest of the record do they dip from uninspired to genuinely unlistenable. But sadly, that’s faint praise indeed when the rest of the album feels like an enormously over-hyped collection of B-sides by a side project that never quite got its mission statement clear in the first place.