Coat of Arms

The other day, meaning today, I was wondering: what if all things had their own soundtrack? A sound of its very own. Why is this kind of idiotic thing occupying my, even as it is, crowded mind? Well… I’m supposed to write a review about Swedish war *cough* metal *snicker* battalion *shart* Sabaton’s new album. If plastic would have a soundtrack, it would be this. And I’m not talking good plastic like the one used in fake boobs or rubber dildos, I’m talking sterile fucking plain and boring plastic of which catheters used in cattle inseminators are made. You know, a blend of a) total lack of any odor, emotion or feeling and b) pure, fresh beast vagina. And rape by assfisting. Meaning shit. Actually, I might be a little too harsh on the inseminators – they actually serve a purpose. Sabaton does not.

Sabaton plays power metal. I like power metal if it’s done well. I love some Helloween albums, Rhapsody’s first has some good tunes, Blind Guardian’s “Nightfall in Middle-Earth” is one of my all-time favorite albums etc. What these examples of fine power metal have that Sabaton doesn't, is… well, everything. Let’s take a look at three examples:

What do we want? Good memorable songs that don’t rip off a gazillion other bands. A unique flavor, a sound of their own.

What does Sabaton give us? Stale, dorky, stompy anthems that hold no value whatsoever and bring absolutely nothing new to the table. Only the die-hard fans can call this catchy – the quality of all melodies, riffs, song structures, build-ups etc is so sub-par, it’s frightening to think of the fact that this is not a teenage demo band taking their first tentative steps at making their very own Teutonic metal songs in honor of their heroes. Singing about Auschwitz and Nazis doesn’t make you unique. Or better, for that matter.

What more do we need? A charismatic vocalist with a clear, strong voice. Crucial in this genre.

What do we get? A raspy singer who doesn’t suck too fucking bad but he’d be better off taking some vocal technique lessons. He’s not got much power, he’s off pitch at times, and apparently, he’s got no control of his breath support, as his tone falters quite often. I liked his rolling R’s at first, they made me chuckle a few times, but they get a little tiresome at length. And lastly…

What are our most precious cravings? A huge load of freakin’ passion in the execution! This is, after all, supposed to be the manliest and most macho of all metal genres!

And we are awarded? No. We are not awarded.

Other than this we get an un-organic production in which all the separate instruments sound OK, but the overall result has them disjointed, as if the five friends were trying to hold hands in an occult circle in honor of Kai Hansen, but they’re just a liiittle bit too far from each other to complete the holy/unholy ritual. Meaning, we don’t get a full, rich soundscape but a powerless and sterile production with very little punch in it. If the synth pads were muted from the background, this would sound as empty as my fucking brain is after listening to this album twice.

There are some glimmers of hope on “Coat of Arse”, believe it or not; the guitar solos are quite nice and the last (fucking last – why put the best song last?!) song, “Metal Ripper”, has some cool moments in it with loads of syncopated accents in the chorus, which holds up to the power metal standards of catchy sing-along arena status. More of this, guys.

In all honesty, I actually understand why this band has so many followers, why they sell thousands of records and get booked on tours all over the world. It’s really rather simple, it’s for the same reason as to why reality shows get air time and why George W. Bush got re-elected: people are stupid. There, I said it. Homo sapiens is going down the fucking drain so fast that even the Millennium Falcon couldn’t catch us with a hyperspace jump. We’d be better off just letting go and screaming in glee as we plummet down the shitter. Or in Sabaton’s case – better shut up.