Two Nuclear Blasts

Century Media

Denmark’s Mnemic can’t exactly be reduced to mnemonic players (i.e. they don’t exactly aid in the recovery of memory). Mimetic might be closer to the mark, as they recall the recent explorations by fellow Scandinavians Meshuggah quite a bit. (The band actually claims their name is an acronym for “Mainly Neurotic Energy Modifying Instant Creation.”) Not so much indebted to the presto-chango mathcore style as to the bludgeoning hammer of mechanical precision, these boys showcase the brutal chops along with a vaguely Nu Metal flair for hooks, choruses, and the occasional keyboard flourish. But don’t mistake it for bordering-on-pop: the low strung 7-string guitars, super-elephantine bass, and hyper-drive drumming prevent things from moving too far in that direction. For every anthemic chorus, there is a turn-on-a-dime mosh section or an in-your-face thrash in 5/4 or 7/8; for every ringing, chorus-drenched guitar arpeggio, there is a thrumming, pitch-bent jag that sends the lyricism sprawling sideways. Just as versatile is vocalist Michael (no surnames are given on the album, though they can be located elsewhere – I prefer the disc’s listing instrumental credits to “7-string Messenger,” “6-string Violator,” and so forth). He can bark out the choruses but can also mewl conspiratorially, shriek maniacally, and, in passages of layered multi-vocals, recall Layne Staley’s sicko constructions for Alice in Chains.

There were times when I was just about ready to think of this music as slightly too slick for my taste. But unfailingly, Mnemic would pull out some riff, some vocal insanity, some fill (there are no solos, which are presumably for wusses) that would kick me in the head. Note the factory sounds which conclude “Tattoos,” for example. And pretty much the whole of the title track can answer anyone who suspects Mnemic of occasional prettiness (it’s also one of the few places where the band ventures outside its usual harmonic range). Only the slow, somewhat self-consciously atmospheric “Zero Gravity” doesn’t convince on at least some level. So while the shift between Meshuggah-esque polyrhythms (5 against 4 most often) and soaring refrains can wear a bit thin, in small doses it’s pretty invigorating. Mnemic’s music is a quirky mix that’s sure to repel champions of metal orthodoxy but which I find pretty winning.

Coming from a different position on the metal spectrum is Dew-Scented. How marvelously delicate a name (apparently Poe-derived) for such a bludgeoning band! The fifth full-length release from these veterans of the German thrash scene, led by intense vocalist Leif Jensen, I’m tempted to write simply that this is the best Slayer record since South of Heaven. But that would be missing out on this band’s more playful, looser nature with the same basic elements of brutality. And while these personal twists and addenda to the basic form won’t blunt the force of comparison (hey, even the guitar solos sound a bit like Kerry King’s, while “Down My Neck” at times practically apes “Seasons in the Abyss”), that’s probably not the kind of thing likely to deter fans of this vintage. And for what it’s worth, they’re also influenced by bands like Kreator, At the Gates, and Morbid Angel (with something of the latter’s careening-out-of-control splatter-style mixed into the industrial hammering). It’s a caustic dose of old-school thrash, gaining velocity and momentum right from the album’s opening barked, “Go!” (a command which seems to go hand in hand with the cover image of two ram’s heads butting one another). When you enter this band’s world, you find that the skies are always red, there is always a continual drama of pain and retribution, and the steadfast individual can survive whatever trials loom ahead. This kind of bleak and violent world has its odd comforts for aficionados of this music. And it’s done with undeniable precision, from the vocal howl, the chugging of guitars and bass, and pile-driving drumming (which doesn’t have quite the savage freneticism of Dave Lombardo, but can boast double-kick work which recalls Mickey D from the old King Diamond groups). While the form and the style might not be too memorable, what you take away from “Impact” is the sheer, well, impact. File this one under “Harder Faster Louder Meaner.”