[Cover art by Aaron Pinto (Gutslit) / KidSquidy]
In unleashing the catchphrase “treat yo self,” Parks & Rec created a pop-culture reminder that indulgence can be a good thing. Taking time to focus on doing something just for yourself is incredibly valuable, particularly in modern times where we exist under a constant barrage of information and tasks that are actively harmful to our well-being. From a musical standpoint, one could safely argue that Devin Townsend’s mentality toward songwriting falls under the umbrella of “treat yo self.” The man has a vision and no matter how bonkers or convoluted it may seem to an outsider, he’s damn well gonna bring that vision to life. Certainly, that carefree attitude and drive to indulge his whims is precisely what has made him beloved by his fans and reviled by his detractors. Of course, indulgence is a tricky thing. Even the most ardent Hevy Devy fan will surely admit that his works are equally capable of confounding lows as they are exceptional highs.
In an effort to indulge his musical whims, Fountainhead has created an ambitious debut with Changeling that overall makes for a compelling hour-long album. While intro tracks and interludes on many album would be easy to chuck out, the three on this album act as a signal change for what’s to follow. As Changeling progresses, it becomes more, well, progressive.
“Introject” is a brief track that fires off the kind of fretless guitar noodling and triumphant build one would expect from a man with ties to Obscura, and let’s you know that the next three songs are going to primarily sit comfortably in that space. “Instant Results” slides in with some fretless bass and whirlwind of neck gymnastics that manage to carry just the right bit of melody. Despite the focus on firing a million notes at the listener, Changeling isn’t afraid of creating a vocal hook with some harsh cleans during a chorus that gives you something to grab onto. The sense of playfulness in the music really shines during a late triple run of guitar leads. The first sits in wide open space with a phaser-style sound and comes across like it was improvised. The second returns to form with a more traditional shred. The third is actually a dual-lead with both players harmonizing as they run up and down the board. As the shortest full track, “Falling In Circles” toes a similar line but works in these interesting descending and ascending runs that are super brief, creating a mix of dive bomb and woozy effects.
“World? What World?” is where the progressive tendencies start to make their presence more directly known. The opening is like a sped-up Cynic intro, with random notes that hold and run, much like a foot slipping and pressing on the gas pedal a little too hard. There are some hook-laden brass instruments that shine through a couple of times, but their moment in the limelight is short-lived; yet, their second appearance sees them fade without disappearing. Instead, they’re expertly woven into the mix to provide an extra sense of grandiosity as the song works towards its final climax. Throughout its nearly seven-minute runtime, even repeated parts are given a fresh tone or accompanied by an instrument to give them a renewed sense of vigor. The fourth track on the album is the perfect one to sample because it’s essentially the 70% cacao dark chocolate on Changeling. Everything that follows moves closer to 100%, so if this one isn’t working, the rest will surely make your face pucker.
The brief minute of “Metanoia Interlude” harkens to the oncoming expanded sound with its gorgeous piano and lovely touch of brass. Despite the maelstrom the title track opens with, it largely spends its seven minutes providing the listener with a perfectly timed slowing of the pace. The song zeroes in on a simpler, crushing chug that plods and grooves. While that changeup is intriguing enough, the track also manages to feature soft cleans, a wizardly evil spoken vocal, a bubbly section that sounds like it’s submerged underwater, and even a stretch that sounds more like some sort of eastern summoning circle. “Abyss” takes that crushing pivot and runs toward the eerie. The opening sounds like it was inspired by the soundtrack accompanying the lighthouse sequence in Annihilation, which is followed by a very Neurosis-esque slow, introspective guitar overlaid with a husky spoken word. Naturally, that inspiration carries over into a slow, stuttering crush of a riff that at times gets so slow and drawn out as to be suffocating. That said, Changeling knows when to pick the tempo back up to create the sense of a video game escape run or provide some relief with a wide-open passage tailor-made for puffing and letting your mind wander.
Just as the others before it, “Cathexis Interlude” is a weird, droney, spacey bit of notes that lets you know the final two tracks are more interested in getting weird than bludgeoning you to death. “Abdication” enters the fold with flute and piano, sounding downright fantastical. Once the clean singing kicks in, you’ll find Changeling has decided to take a stab at being simply a progressive heavy metal band rather than a progressive death metal band, and the nods to Dream Theater are clear. The early stretch is beautiful, coming across like something you would want to hear just before your ship launched into space. Certainly a significant upgrade from hearing Katy Perry in space, anyway. The greatest strength of “Abdication” is its ability to build. That opening beauty gives way to slightly throatier singing while the bass starts to pick up steam and eventually it explodes into a full heaviness. Even then, there’s a stretch where the bass gets to take over as it noodles, and then the guitars get to explore in a slower, more meandering way. Eventually, even as the song concludes on heavier notes, additional instruments are mixed in to give it a sense of whimsy.
Indulgence is a double-edged sword. It’s wonderful when you first experience it, but let it go unchecked, and all of a sudden, all those rich desserts have left you footless and diabetic. “Anathema” is Changeling’s blood sugar problem. After several longer songs, the band chose to close on a 17-minute track that’s a bit more of a hodgepodge of ideas rather than an engaging and cohesive whole. This becomes even more glaring by the strength of the song that precedes it. In the grand scheme of things, and much like many of Devin Townsend’s albums, something this ambitious trying to marry so many disparate elements was unlikely to work across the entirety of its hour. This is also the debut vision for Fountainhead under this moniker, so growing pains are to be expected. What matters is that the good here far outweighs the few stumbles.
With Changeling, Fountainhead fully indulged in his vision in an effort to take listeners on an adventure. Personally, I think you should let him.
