The early-mid ‘00s were a weird-ass time for metal. OG metalcore bands (look ‘em up, this ain’t Wikipedia or The Metal Archives) suddenly found themselves being name-dropped by a new pack of hyenas in guyliner that would make Gerard Way wince in discomfort and jeans tighter than Luke Bryan’s. Of course, now, the reason for the tightness of their jeans is that they belonged to their girlfriend. A word on the girlfriends of that era; lonely. Lonely, because these dandy fops were too busy making fag jokes and bro-ing down to pay any attention to them, in search of the almighty breakdown. This made for easy carnal rendezvous, but shitty music. Now, to be fair, a handful of bands rose above the cesspool to create something actually enjoyable. THE CLASSIC STRUGGLE, FREYA, and CATARACT come to mind, but for those of us who were raised on near-impeccable standards of quality, pickins were slim.
THUS SPOKE ZARATHUSTRA seeks to recall this time and, surprisingly, have not ended up on the Napalm or Lifeforce Records roster. I’m Done With Self Care, It’s Time For Others’ Harm is exactly the sort of album title a band of that era would have, and TSZ begins this one with ‘GGO’, which was fine until the twee guitars and paint-by-numbers “breakdown”. Yep, main dude Andy Reynold sounds shat forth from the colonic uterus of Vincent Bennett of THE ACACIA STRAIN and 1,000 others of his ilk, and this carries on through ‘I Can’t Save You’. Honest to fuck, there is zero technique or deviance from ‘00s Metalcore 101 here, and apparently ‘Gage Lanza 2: Return Of The Red Hammer’ is a sequel of sorts to a “song” from the band’s debut, because obviously no one’s ever fucking heard of THE TONY DANZA TAPDANCE EXTRAVAGANZA, so that’s not derivative at all, no siree!
At least the fakedowns take a bit of a breather for the brilliantly-titled ‘I Never Believed In Magic Til My Dog Turned Into A Snake’, but a good title alone isn’t enough, or EMMURE would actually be worth a shit. Lo and behold, ‘The Final Blow Will Bring Blood’ passes by with nary a head turned or raised eyebrow. IDWSC, ITFOH is literally less than half an hour long and I feel like I’m being put to sleep or knocked out with a sledgehammer of disinterest. But I’m going to solider on, for that’s what a soldier does. It’s all for you, lads and lassies, so let’s knock back another double, mainline straight airplane fuel and keep it going. I am the bastard offspring of Shane MacGowan and late ’60s Lou Reed, abusing myself in all forms of debauchery so you don’t have to.
‘The Difference Between You And Me Is I Never Got Caught’ is rife with substantial truth in its opening line of “What the fucccck?” but as quickly dissolves into limp-wristed braggadocio and another tiring fakedown. Closer ‘Bereft Of Light’ finally arrives, and the drummer’s found Lars’s drum kit from St. Anger. If you need some empty paint cans and an old Smith Corona typewriter, I know where you can find one.
I’ve spent for fucking ever on this review, but it coulda been any band, it coulda been any album. The true issue here is that the only redeemable bit (I was raised to look for something good in everything) is that the band does have a killer guitar tone. Pity it’s wasted on such pabulum.
This band can’t break up fast enough for me.
Review By: Lord Randall
THUS SPOKE ZARATHUSTRA
I’m Done With Self Care, It’s Time For Others’ Harm
Prosthetic Records