If there's been an adventurous metal band that's come through Dallas or Austin in recent times, there's a good chance Fort Worth duo Pinkish Black has opened for them. Keyboardist and vocalist Daron Beck and drummer Jon Teague flip the idea of what metal can be by employing aggression and tense space without guitars, “riffs” in the traditional sense, or anything in the traditional metal sense, really. Pinkish Black resemble a Popol Vuh that suddenly became obsessed with denim and leather, or an enterprising Goblin that, after doing scores for Dario Argento, discovered that headbangers love horror movies. Their self-titled debut, released on Handmade Birds last year, was a promising collection, albiet one that could have benefitted from a little focus. And while Teague's kick drum doesn't make your heart conform to its beat on Razed to the Ground, their second album and first for the large metal label Century Media, it is a more accurate summation of what the band is capable of doing.
Pinkish Black excel when Beck cranks the distorted bass and Teague gets busy on the kit. In this regard, “Kites and Vultures” and “Rise” are the album's standout tracks, as they maximize both of those strengths. In addition, they're the only two tracks that start in kill mode, rather than making the audience wait for the explosion. Had Zombi faced more pressure from Relapse to be more like the bands Relapse usually signs-- that is, aggressive or at least putting on a facade of “aggressive”-- they may have put out something like the title track. There's that Signals-era Rush groove, injected with more bass and menace. Of the band's slower songs, closer “Loss of Feeling of Loss” merges the band's Kraut tendencies with their metallic side the most cohesively. Razed's sequencing is modeled much like their live show, to its advantage. It starts off with a rush, moves into a spacier sequence to let the audience screw their heads back on, trips into another round of pummeling, and then ends with one last suspension of gravity. Whereas the self-titled felt like just a collection of songs, Razed has a more concrete arc. Chalk it up to signing to a major label or chalk it up to experience, but either way, Pinkish Black are finding themselves.
While Razed is mostly a precise album, some of the wandering eye that hindered the self-titled collection still creeps up. “Bad Dreamer” could use more judicious editing; the sections work in and of themselves, but could be more solidly linked. As sublime as “Loss” is, after a couple minutes of silence comes random high piano notes thrown into the void that killed Frank Poole. A throwback to the hidden tracks from nü-metal CDs? The world's most esoteric tribute to Pantera's “Sandblasted Skin”? Whatever it is, that ending feels tacked on and unnecessary. For a band so dependent on structure-- which, given metal's history of eschewing improvisation, is not an issue-- it feels out of character and a betrayal of sorts. Even given these faults, the rest of the record suggests a stronger, more confident Pinkish Black.
