Originally written by Dean Brown.
If anything can be taken from post-Max Cavalera Sepultura, it is that the band will, regardless of the lambasting it has received since 1996, persevere to create new music, whether you find that hard to swallow or not. For that reason, there is no requirement to re-examine the whys and the wherefores and continue to belittle Derrick Green’s role as the frontman of a band accused of being creatively deceased for longer than it existed at the vanguard of metal in the first place. (To do so is a rote exercise; the attraction of which, as ridiculous as it seems, still leaves writers frothing at the spout.) Instead our attention turns to Sepultura’s seventh studio album with vocalist Derrick Green, the verbosely titled The Mediator Between Head and Hands Must Be The Heart.
After Sepultura’s previous album Kairos departed from the concepts that tried – and for the most part failed – to keep Dante XXI and A-Lex tethered to a cohesive musical base, Sepultura return to drink from the same well of inspiration that Cult of Luna sourced this year for Vertikal: Fritz Lang’s 1927 dystopian science-fiction film Metropolis. Cult of Luna successfully reinterpreted the austere atmosphere of this highly regarded piece of celluloid through quasi-industrial soundscapes that sizzled with electronic accompaniments. Sepultura’s interpretation is different: Backed for the first time by the powerhouse drumming of the young Eloy Casagrande, Andreas Kisser (guitars), Paulo Jr. (bass) and Derrick Green have written the most explicitly atonal album of Sepultura’s lengthy existence.
As static gives way and the claustrophobic thrash of opener “Trauma of War” reveals itself, The Mediator… is off to a fine start. But as with every Sepultura album since Roots–due to a lack of ideas, energy and execution–The Mediator… falls just as far from the mark as Max Cavalera’s latest album under the Soulfly banner (also released through Nuclear Blast this year). The intro to “The Vatican” – church bell tolls, choirs, classical accoutrements – is completely needless, and this hackneyed attempt at stirring drama is almost forgiven when the tightly wound hardcore-thrash riffs and double bass bombardments detonate. However, given the severe atmosphere the band is trying to create here through extra reliance on dissonance, there is no overt danger to be found: Green barks along in his signature style and Kisser blankets the arrangement with a stock tremolo riff, with only Casagrande’s hard-hitting tenacity keeping the music from banality’s fatal chokehold.
“Impending Doom” reverts to “Territory” tempos and Kisser’s boiler-plate riffs are uninspired, resulting in a lost opportunity to pound a mid-tempo groove into the dirt. “Manipulation of Tragedy” admirably fights to vary things up again, though the density and the intensity needed is entirely absent. Thankfully the pairing of “Tsunami” and “The Bliss of Ignorants” do fire back at the album’s midpoint: Sepultura upping the adrenaline and charging forward, with “The Bliss of Ignorants” in particular pummelling in a way not heard from the band since 1993. Here, Green really roars with supremacy (bizarrely, he is somewhat muted by Ross Robinson’s production job) and Kisser lets loose one of his patent wah-riddled solos while Casagrande’s tribal touch sublimely sets up the hammer blow of the final half-time beatdown. The band coalesces as a tangible force. It is an encouraging and truly exciting moment that will surely satiate the most ardent post-Chaos AD Sepultura hater.
Of course, we all want bands to push and challenge themselves creatively (especially long established bands), as from risk comes great reward, but the immediate comedown after the rush of “The Bliss of Ignorants” hits hard once the prosaic post-metal of “Grief” plays out. “Grief” is a million miles outside of Sepultura’s wheelhouse: the slow burning riffs, Green’s cringe-inducing attempt at sounding morose and the pitiful atmosphere is completely contrite. The Mediator… doesn’t recover from this woeful attempt at aping Neurosis, and even the guest appearance of Dave Lombardo during the dark turns of “Obsessed” isn’t of note.
The Mediator… tries its best to stand up in its own right through Kisser’s use of atonality to flavor each song as well as a dedicated focus on creating a stark atmosphere in line with the inspiration from Lang’s masterwork. Ironically, the music contains terminal flaws stemming from this songwriting direction. Because of Kisser’s attempts to mask the fact that he is flat out of memorable riffs – not to mention the tarnished legacy that perpetually looms over it – The Mediator… is little more than fuel for the band to hit the road again to play the classics with smatterings of Green-era songs thrown in to appear relevant. The sad thing is, Sepultura will yet again find it hard to cull more than two or three worthy songs from this album.
Tacked on at the end of The Mediator… is a pointless cover of Chico Science and Nacao Zumbi’s “Da Lama Ao Coas,” which roughly translates to English as “From the Mud to the Chaos”. Flip this phrase ‘round and it’s an apt summation of Sepultura’s career thus far: “From Chaos (AD) to the mud”. The Mediator…, although a spirited idea on paper, does nothing to change this impression in the flesh.
