Blindside
The Great Depression
6.2
I begrudged signing up to review this, but I sort of figured it to be my duty. You see: I first stumbled upon these Swedes when they released Blindside on Solid State Records, circa 1997. The group quickly garnered comparisons to Deftones until their second full-length, A Thought Crushed My Mind, dazzled audiences by incorporating more hardcore into the mix, which subsequently led to a signing by Elektra’s subsidiary named 3 Points Records. From there, though, Blindside faltered due to the underwhelming performances of 2002’s Silence and 2004’s About a Burning Fire. As a result, the guys are no longer peddling their music on Elektra, but are now signed with DRT Entertainment (Clutch, Gwar, Lit, et al), and The Great Depression finds us in the here and now. So, is the current outing any good? For the most part, no it’s not.
Honestly, I do have an affinity for history and shit, which means I was elated to learn that Blindside’s latest does indeed center on The Great Depression. Unfortunately, The Great Depression is lacking in most all areas required for satisfaction. “This is a Heart Attack” commences in a fashion reminiscent of The White Stripes, abandons its quirkiness, and then adopts it once again. Overall, they have a penchant for pulling disconcerting flip-flops, though I can still envision “This is a Heart Attack” succeeding on the airwaves just as “Pitiful” (Silence) did. Conversely, as catchy as the previously mentioned song is, “Ask Me Now” is invariably worse, because of the pseudo-emotive vibes and banal instrumentation. I mean, haven’t hundreds of bands composed this song before? A similar fate awaits “We’re All Going to Die,” while “Yemkela” draws influence from Blindside’s current tourmates, namely Showbread. The first (only?) single/video is “Fell in Love with the Game,” and it thankfully proves to be an infectious, little romp that’s devoid of substantiality…although there’s mindless enjoyment ripe for the picking. Several tunes, of the fourteen, aren’t worth as much as I’d like them to be, and are thus shallow, pale, and lifeless.
Maybe the best attribute of The Great Depression is Christian Lindskog’s vocals. The aforementioned definitely has a set of pipes, and he’s repeatedly been as versatile as something that’s insanely versatile. I can’t ignore the facts, though. Blindside haven’t created anything engrossing since 2000’s A Thought Crushed My Mind. If you own anything by the group, then it should be that particular disc, and not this one.
