The Famine
The Architects of Guilt
6.9
By the time that you read this, The Famine will be dead.
No, not dead dead. But alas, as of April 9th, these four dudes in their thirty-somethings have gone back to their families, school careers, and small business ownership, and have officially called it a night. The world of New DeathMetalCore Americana will feel this void for... a few months, at most. And that's not a shot at The Famine. That's a shot at attention spans the world over. Another ten-or-so bands will emerge by tomorrow morning, phasers set to shoddy-skills, taking influence from all corners to cross the streams and dominate, like a wild pee stain on the whole of Metaldom, virtually causing the tougher layer to erode. But the truth is that The Architects of Guilt separated the men from the boys, and is also a sad reminder of how this band might have, just maybe, widened the dividing line even more.
Starving knives were sharpened here for the art of the expendable riff. This makes me question my continuous hot pursuit of the dumb-yet-deadly. I've always loved the melodic face-value of bands like At The Gates, all the way on into the Hatespheres, Dimension Zeros, and Carnal Forges; good dumb stuff. Let's face it: The bands that siphon the style of their forefathers are not in it to break the mold, they're in it to strengthen the bond. Down-tune it, gear-shift it, pounce on it. And The Famine did it by this book and for this book, then took the book and threw the book, and lit the book on fire. And yes, put the book back on the shelf to free up their furious hands for diaper changing and paycheck receiving. That's admirable like the blue-collared and slightly barbaric run that they threw down here in 40 minutes, done with more gusto in the game than is often heard. The simplest way to a Faminous overall sound, is the application of fingers to the fretboard much like how Swedes & Co. hammer down, then pair that with obvious nods to something like, say Lamb of God - specifically Adler's and Morton's spider-fingers - and voila! You have a cinder-block strong foundation from which to build. Albeit The Famine's take is a little rough around the edges, but goddamn, it's in there. So all those in favor of a brainless beating, gIve in to it. Balance out the collegiate art-school playlists by de-evolving to eating paste and sticking crayons up your nose.
"Expendable riff", "dumb", "brainless beating". "I can't tell if dude digs this album..." Well, f*ck yeah I do. In-between all of the pompous shit that gets the block hot these days, I like to turn to a tall drink of water, more commonly referred to in my world as 'Middle Finger Metal'. The Famine has the FU style in spades, and it's all about the riffing. Album opener, "The New Hell", jumps the gun hard and sets the no-bullshit tone for their entire set with its elastic, repetitive back-and-forth between the higher notes and the beating that those take from the baritone. In fact, that's the intel here: Attack with guitars (entire album, duh). Attack with them slow ("To The Teeth"). Attack with them fast ("VII The Fraudulent"). Attack with them palm-muted ("Ad Mortem"). And always, always attack with them in plain sight (yep, that's right genius, the album in full). So in other words, for the most part here on Architects, The Famine was a stalwart of the current day Yankee take on been-there-done-that, except that they knew how effective placement was, and therefore keep you headed toward a neck-brace and chronic dizzy spells.
Stay hungry.
