Originally written by Matt Longo
“Get lost every day / Surviving our way / Get drunk every night / Got nothing to hide” proclaims vocalist Erik Olson on “Dreams of Mercy” — one of the catchiest songs on Summon the Faithless, the hit-the-ground-running-and-catch-us-if-you-can debut album from Portland, Oregon’s Lord Dying.
Because of the Stumptown similarities, your ears may signal Red Fang in your noggin. This is not incorrect (although a more brutish veneer covers the proceedings), but even through all its lurches and lumbers, the music feels smarter than it lets on. It’s not quite the well-oiled machine of the ultra-efficient High on Fire (and, really, what is?) but a sinister grimy glee is smeared from head to toe. Oh, there will of course be head-noddingly awesome grooves guiding your initial path, then later easily hummed in memory. And those throats? A full command of the mid-range — from defiant barks to bong-soaked bellows — calls all the shots. I bet one is usually whiskey.
Album opener “In a Frightful State of Gnawed Dismemberment” is a current contender for song title of the year. And before we get too far, let’s address the whole BLANK-of-the-year terminology that folks often use. Everyone wanna know why we all — all — fucking do it? Look at the album cover for Summon the Faithless. LOOK AT IT, you damned heathens. You. Are. Dying. And something everyone ideally realizes as time presses on: if you don’t get organized, you just get dead. Maybe your body lives on, but your spirit starts to die. And I’m not waxing dramatic or declaring knowledge of the nature or existence of a soul, but there’s just… something there, and I want as much use out of it as possible. Whatever makes remembering more efficient helps this process.
Lord Dying are not here to waste your time.
Me and my fiancé are trudging through the muddled concluding episodes of Joss Whedon’s Dollhouse right now. And amongst all of its shortcomings — such as a too-convoluted storyline and a lead actress having difficulty aspiring to her lofty role — there is the compelling aspect of an untouchable, incalculable sense of feeling that everyone possesses, over and above the archived experiences themselves. It’s the IS-ness; the very fact that a qualitative difference exists in existence. The ostensible entirety of Human Brain X could be imprinted onto Human Brain Y, but a holistic schism still separates the entities. That very higher sense of self is what you’re trying to preserve the most, all while that pair of meat sacks in your chest cavity sucks wind down a flesh tube from your cartilage nozzle.
If that sounds stark and ugly, you’d be at least half right. And likewise, Summon the Faithless is trying to be stark and ugly, but Lord Dying bears a sweeter center that just wants to jam out, burn down, and play some fuckin’ foosball, man. They do have something to say, but spare the annoying pretense. They worship at the Altar of The Riff, but pander to no particular audience. And there’s something about them that’s oddly familiar, yet weird enough to invite repeat visits.
“What would you pay for the price of your life?” Lord Dying implores in “Greed is Your Horse” — not a novel sentiment, but twisted into an intriguing, unique form. Maybe my analytical side is in overdrive, but the more I listen, the more these words welcome dissection. Still, my visceral side is ‘banging hard all the while.
Their promo talks about being the new heavyweight champions of metal. The only other lords I know of who were also heavyweight champs were Steve Regal and Alfred Hayes, and however accomplished those gentlemen may be, Lord Dying is decidedly more badass. What else is decidedly more badass are the fourteen extra minutes you’ll get in the deluxe version, which are absolutely worth your attention. Honestly, the album gets an extra half-point notch in my book, if that’s the edition in question. But do make time — the proverbial clock is ticking.
