When you write a review of a band and their latest work, where there has usually been at least a modicum of hard work put in, but you personally don’t like the fruits of the proverbial labour, an easy route out is to take the band’s press release, re-write it a little bit and then conjure something along the lines of “it’s not for me, kids, but it might just be for you” as a cop out.
But that’s not what a music critic should do; the whole damn purpose of us being here is to criticise, to lambast, to pillory. Likewise, when we find something that we do like we are there to champion, to praise and to generally tell you how wonderful these bands and artists are. No, its not logical. Yes, it’s sometimes paradoxical. No, it isn’t fair. But neither is life. It is, however, just an opinion.
In a roundabout kind of way this brings me to the latest release from Greek opera/death/metal outfit, Chaostar. Those of you who follow the travels and travails of southern European metal will have doubtless come across Chaostar. Me? I’d never heard of them. If you like Chaostar, you should look away now because I’m about to slag them off something rotten. You have been warned.
The brainchild of Christos Antionou, he of symphonic metallers Septicflesh, Anonima is, apparently, the first material that this side project- reworked compilations apart- have put together in nine years. I bear Mr Antoniou no ill will and I’m sure he has his supporters but his latest record is, no word of a lie, utterly, irredeemably, awful.
Where to start? Anonima is full of mashed styles and influences- there’s moody atmospherics, operatic singing, Skrillex style dubstep. So far, so good, yeah? Yeah, until you play the damn thing that is. It’s not the idea or the intent that I have an issue with- it’s the execution. By all means bring together musical styles and influences and create something new and something fresh but Anonima is, by turns, boring, messy, contrived, shoehorned and shambolic.
Have a listen to the pomposity of ‘Truth Will Prevail’ which starts off all folkloric and emotive before having a dubstep piece inserted into its latter parts; this, I take it, is supposed to be some sort of avant garde musical prowess. It isn’t. It is neither avant nor garde. If you aren’t convinced by that, you could try the equally maudlin rubbish that is ‘Sorrow Descending’ which sounds like an outtake from the Gladiator soundtrack. But not in a good way. Even Morbid Angel’s David Vincent turns up to spout some impenetrable bilge masquerading as deep philosophical musing. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Anonima is not big; it is not clever. It is, by far, the most painful listening experience I have had this year and I have listened to Mumford And Sons. Sorry.
3/10
Mat Davies