Wow, Sepultura sure have changed. There used to be a time when their aggressive, thundering riffs could crush your puny skull like so many eggshells and pull your very soul beneath the remains. Of course, they formed in the mid-80s, so maybe Belo Horizonte's favorite sons figured it was time to move on to new things, like, say, screamo and punk. Suffice to say, this new EP does not sound like the same band responsible for metal classics like "Slave New World" and "Bestial Devastation."
But wait-- what's North of America? Wasn't that a Slayer album? Ahh, shit. This isn't Sepultura! Well, now it's all coming together. Turns out, the band is North of America, and The Sepultura is just the title this new EP. How stupid of me. Well, if I've got my Latin roots down (and I don't), I'm thinking that the word 'sepultura' has something to do with burial. And I'm thinking that North of America is just a not-so-clever way of saying 'Canada.' And as it turns out, that's correct-- the quartet hails from Halifax, Nova Scotia, best known in the record business as the home of power-pop all-stars Sloan, also known as the Other Canadian Beatles (first honors go to Klaatu).
Despite geographic resemblance, though, North of America's music has really nothing to do with either that of Sloan's or Klaatu's. North of America came together during the initial ramping phase of Millennial fever in 1998, releasing an EP almost immediately and following it with two full-lengths in 1999 and 2001. Yet for all the work they have behind them, The Sepultura paints a picture more similar to that of a band just starting out.
Perhaps it's just the vocals that make it seem that way. Scratch that-- it's definitely the vocals. This EP's six songs are packed with the petulant screaming that's turned so-called 'screamo' into such a self-parody over the years. Singing? Well, perhaps once in a while they'll settle down for a nice little melodic passage, but it always leads back to the yelling. It's like one side of an argument from the downstairs apartment.
The production doesn't help this sense of a band getting on its feet much, either. There's no space in the mix whatsoever, even when there's admirable space in the playing itself, and every song is basically the same color. Between the lack of differentiation between instruments in the production and the near total lack of strong vocal melodies, songs tend to blur together, relying largely on the generous instrumental passages that inhabit them to help them make their individual marks.
Instrumentally speaking, though, these guys are hot. They can clearly play, and they've got rhythm for miles. The bass tone is thick and heavy, ballasting every flailing note and dissonant chord the guitars can muster. The drums play through patterns as frequently as they play straight beats, lending a great deal of complexity to everything the band plays. "Destroy Tambourine" opens with drums charging through a forest of nasty riffs and guitar harmonics, and thrashes toward its fire-breathing instrumental bridge, built on a pummeling bassline and frenzied percussion.
"Back Stabbath" similarly kicks the door open, only to temper itself slightly with a downward tempo shift, though the instrumental assault never truly lets up. By the song's conclusion, it's changed completely, with the band beating out a relentless rhythm in complete unison. The most conventionally conceived song is "That's a Convincing Argument, Michael," which restrains the shouting more than any other song here. The density of the guitar attack actually lets up somewhat in the verses to give the vocals some room, and the band shoves the pedal through the floor on the sung/shouted chorus.
The song that shows the most depth and adventurousness, though, is the eight-minute closer "Font Crimes." Beginning quietly with just a complex bassline, the rest of the band soon rains down intertwining guitar parts and thundering drums. The first verse is accompanies only by tribal drumming, though everything else crashes back in soon enough. The lengthy coda heads off into quieter, subtler territory, allowing the bass to guide as the cymbals mutate into a lo-fi wash and the guitars settle into oddball ostionatos.
So, regardless of whether or not it has anything to do with the band of the same name, The Sepultura is a dense, aggressive, and even occasionally challenging release. It suffers from some fairly common musical ailments-- namely sameness and amateurish vocalness-- but even while these details detract, the overall picture is still something to look at.
