Wildhund

Something strange and insidious happened to Mr. Homeless during the seven year silence that separates his latest work from his previous one. We already had some clues as to what we could expect from him on Melting Sun, though. It escapes no one that after the wonderful, moody-yet-somehow-hopeful Agape, Lantlôs fell, like many other bands, under the Alcest/Deafheaven spell, and went full "post-black" (whatever that's supposed to mean) route with Melting Sun. Such a move, in my eyes, would have spelled death for the band/solo project, but thankfully the album still had enough colourful ideas that were its own to avoid sounding like a mere bandwagonesque effort. After such an unlikely success (statistically speaking) I was actually looking forward to what this guy would attempt next. Something in the back of my mind kept telling me that the miracle wouldn't happen twice and that all that remained for Lantlôs was to release the album that would make me lose interest for good. That is not quite what happened. In fact, nothing at all happened. For all of seven years.

First impressions are exactly as important as the old adages tell us, which is ironic considering that the other adage that comes to mind, i.e. "don't judge a book by its cover" is absolutely wrong the vast majority of the time. Imagine, then, how high I had to raise a singular eyebrow when I saw Mr. Homeless wearing a kind of... fisherman's vest? Sitting on the grass under a pink umbrella. I try to be as stoically indifferent about these sorts of things, but it seems like the cultural zeitgeist of the past five-or-so years has carried our boy away like a wooden house during a particularly violent flood. Unimportant as it should be, such a radical shift tends, more often than not, to stink of posturing and affectation. People have been labouring to subdue the traditional "image" that black metal conjures for so long and with such predictable results that going for the all-black-facepaint-spikes-et-al look might, if anything, be the subversive thing to do now. To the point: it seems our Man Without Land has deliberately chosen the soft boi approach. Hey, people surely have done worse (looking at all you Liturgies, Sacred Sons, etc.).

Yet when it comes to the music itself, it becomes clear that this new aesthetic does not exist in a vacuum: Indeed the content might be considered a reflection of the container, which is why I go to the trouble to preface a musical review with what otherwise is nothing but an unimportant fashion statement.

So, enough of that. Here is, in simple terms, the essence of the music: If bands like Deftones and Cult Of Luna had a lovemaking session in a bed that is riddled, with glitter, and the result were taken to the drumming school of "math rock" bands like, say, Battles, after maybe a few classes' worth of working on its chops, while the rest of the elements coalesce, would sound a lot like this album. The certainly loud yet polished and blunt edges of bands like The Ocean and Pelican, combined with the drive of punky yet "irregular" bands like early Placebo is certainly there, and in fact make for the bulk of the overall sound "picture". These elements, of themselves, are not necessarily bad. Problem is, see, that this mixture of already quite similar/overlapping flavours has for the most part been pretty much irrelevant for more than a decade now, and even when it was relevant, most people (ironically) simply couldn't stomach such deliberately bland, inoffensive, round-around-the-edges kind of music. But let's not trouble ourselves with that. Something far more crucial is on the horizon, and it needs addressing.

There is a specific issue, and it is not a small one; an issue that, going by the influences I have highlighted in the sound that makes the core of this album should be on the edge of your conscience right now, so let's just jump into the nitty-gritty of the issue: This is not metal. Let's just get that out of the way as quickly as possible. Not to the detriment of the music, this is simply not metal. It is a hard hitting kind of alternative rock, to be sure, but not metal. It inhabits that limnal space that separatesmetal from metal-adjacent styles, some of which might be argued branched off from it in the mid-'90s, most of which simply co-evolved and continued a life of their own through the '00s. Much like "metalcore" and "deathcore" can, as mere terms, be used in a metal and a non-metal context depending on who's using it, and much like a lot of bands that have often be described as "djent" (which is not even a substyle, it's more of an approach) do not fit the metal criteria no matter how loud and intricate the guitars are, there are heaps of styles which, to the untrained or uninterested ear, are quickly described as "metal", without having an ounce of it on them, structurally. This album is very much a mish-mash of some of the more atmospheric, "accessible" examples of that limnal space, particularly those produced in the late '00s.

Taken at face (ear?) value, the album is far from repellent. If it caught me in the right mood I might even be able to enjoy its mixture of all things almost-but-not-quite-metal. There is, to be sure, a level of success to be recognised in being able to pull off that stunt without immediately turning into auditory vomit à la Korn or Mudvayne and such. There are elements that string you along and, if you get a bit distracted, convince you to listen to the whole thing without stopping. A relaxing, almost sedative quality permeates the music and makes it perhaps not engaging but certainly tolerable for as long as the spell lasts. It relies heavily on atmosphere without sacrificing tempo to achieve it, not to mention a relatively short playtime. Incredibly, tempo -and generally speaking all the drum work- is very varied. The imaginative drumming is pretty much what saves this album from absolute disaster. That, along with the timbric variety in the guitars (lacking in bite as they sadly are even at their loudest) and the odd bit of FX here and there, make for a competently layered, full sound overall. The bass is also prominent, loud even (perhaps a bit too much at times). Vocals, which are clean throughout, attempt to achieve emotional depth by the old trick of multitracking it to hell and back, and really hammering down the alt-rock vibe, along with.... well, the lack of any particularly metal-like riff, really.

This sparkling little piece falls square into the atmospheric, sensitive-but-loud, post-whatever, mallcore-y, buttrock-y side of guitar music, and while it is not a bore of an album, it would already have struggled to stand out ten years or so ago, nevermind now. That and the artificial, factory-made aftertaste of "emotional honesty" which almost always just means making conscious efforts to appear non-conventional and transgressive (again: posturing) just prevents me from properly enjoying what could have been an acceptable musical offering.

Is the deviation from your usual "macho" metalhead aesthetic an inherently negative thing?? Absolutely not. Let us not trouble ourselves with looks in and of themselves when it's the music that matters. It is not my intention to sound like I saw a guy holding a pink umbrella and thought, "ha, gay", and that was the entirety of thought process regarding this review. But here is how all of this relates to the final musical product. This is an affected record, be the aim of said posturing what it may. In short, this is a dishonest product. As such, both as a statement, and as a piece of music, it fails to have a life of its own: It fails to state something about itself, to musically communicate an honest thought. The music, already at an incredible disadvantage because of its low quality, its outdated style generally, and its secondary role in this enterprise, suffers because of it, and simply cannot be redeemed.