In the wake of the FANTERA tribute arrival, Phil cranks up his sputtering engine once more. While VIKING CROWN, ARSON ANTHEM, and pretty much the whole raft of rats on the ever-sinking ship that seems to be the U.S.S. Anselmo’s vocal range have blown chunks to varying degrees, the output from SCOUR so far has been solid enough and is one of the only projects involving P.A. – aside from DOWN and SUPERJOINT RITUAL – where it felt/feels more like a band than Ol’ Camoshorts himself preening before a mirror with a cast of blurred and mostly castaway background musicians. So, we know you have it in you…or had. Let’s find out, kiddos.
‘Cross’ rages from the start, hectic and utterly black metal in execution, chaos unfurled and waving proudly, though a sense of grind can’t help but be injected due to the various members’ stints and memberships in such collectives. Yet in ‘Blades’, amid the slashing sawblade riffnasty, we realize that Anselmo is incapable of keeping what’s actually a pretty searing and worthy black rasp for a whole song without reverting to the lower register. Some would – he would surely – call it “dynamics”, but that’s not what an album, a project like this should be about, nay, not whatsoever.
‘Infusorium’ shines, and sure, the same vocal variance I was flapping on about is here too, but (and this is a big but, boyos), the song swirls, the solos are impeccable and fierce, and it’s one more humdinger of a performance from all involved. The interlude of ‘Ornaments’ I’d have hiked a rear leg and pissed all over if it were used as an intro, but here, nestled in amid the grime, it seems fitting, and I’ll be danged if ‘Coin’ doesn’t up the ante considerable much on its very own. A chopped riff and hazed-out doomcrawl at times, and another unexpected rawk solo doth appear in the latter 1/3rd, so I’m here for this one also.
‘Contaminated’ actually works as dark ambient, not so much ritual, or lurking in feeling, but a slow infection as its moniker calls for, while ‘Hell’ is DARK FUNERAL with a mild case of the grinds and fails for being not up to the par of what’s been happening earlier. ‘Invoke’ is a side-eye glance in the same direction, but in an album like this, there’s simply no room for filler. That’s just what these two are, though, and spells doom for the run from third base to home plate here. It seems the boys in the band know it too, ‘Gold’, and ‘Angels’ mere set-up pieces for what should, by all rights, be one helluva closing track. Should be.
Gold coulda been just the kick in the keister we all needed to hear, but after sifting through the pan, what we end up with is pyrite. And ya can’t cash that in at the bank, no siree.
Review By: Lord Randall
SCOUR
Gold
Nuclear Blast