The bulk of “Rust”, the fifth song on the new album from New York heavy metal hoarders Batillus, is pure pit invocation. The quartet falls in behind Willi Stabenau’s initial bass rupture and powers through an up-tempo crunch, with singer Fade Kainer growling in time above the punch. Most of the song follows this format, but tucked strangely between these parts are brief lugubrious impasses that steal the momentum. On first listen, these short drones play out like such shocking forks in the tune that they seem swiped from another song entirely, vestiges of one track accidentally spliced into this one’s militant clip. Upon repeated inspection, though, these lulls are musical foreshadowing for the number’s midsection, which, however bracing it remains, downshifts toward a viscid lurch. Batillus, then, attempt to add a little compositional sophistication to their musical burl.
The ploy almost works, but however intelligent and elegant the mechanism might be, the choice to add those faded clips ultimately stalls the motion of “Rust,” a song that, otherwise, is simply a blast. Concrete Sustain thrives and dies by this premise— that is, add unexpected elements to metal that’s alternately no-, low- and mid-tempo, and attempt to shake loose the formulas of doom and stoner metal. When the plan works, Concrete Sustain is a captivating record created and energized by new possibilities. For instance, brilliant opener “Concrete” backs a reaper of a guitar riff with Geoff Summers’ stuttering funk drumming, offsetting the gloom with unexpected pep. The elements here are familiar, though their arrangement is not. The result is exhilarating.
Batillus formed as an instrumental trio in 2007, and Kainer took the microphone two years later. He serves double duty, acting not only as the lead singer but also as the textural locomotive, using an array of synthesizers and samplers to back the band with electronics and to sample and layer his voice in these songs. During “Beset”, the album’s eight-minute centerpiece, he uses this toolkit to profound effect. He growls between the doomy crests of guitar, but he replicates his lines beneath the lead, forming a crisscrossed web of howling phantoms and demons. It’s a tad frightening but, mostly, it’s sonically interesting, suggesting Sunn O)))’s Black One collaborations with experimental aesthetes such as John Wiese, Oren Ambarchi, and Malefic. When Greg Peterson creeps through a guitar solo toward song’s end, Kainer again supports it with a wash of soft, gray noise, mirroring the earlier effect of musical valances. Summers adds ricocheting dub drums to the start of “Cast”, Peterson triumphant post-rock radiance to the front of “Thorns”-- dual intriguing elements that confirm Batillus’ intention to break beyond their form’s barriers, as well as their own.
Though Batillus have some remarkable ideas for the progression of their sound and, really, of metal itself, they don’t always have the necessary perspective to make them work. Moments of Concrete Sustain are entirely invigorating, but some of them arrive within songs that lack focus or steady development, frustratingly embedding gems within a morass of gravel. “Cast”, for instance, sports not only those great snare pops but also a roiling bass line from Stabenau that, again, borders on funk. The song itself, however, is a lopsided mess, with a structure that collapses beneath the shifting weight of its unstable parts. “Mirrors” bullies through the same psychedelic sludge as Kylesa but allows Kainer to go on a bit of a noise rampage, with his electronics overpowering the rest of the band in moments of intoxicating power. Rather than end the song with that thrilling peak, though, Batillus trudges through to the other side, epitomizing the act of anticlimax with a slow fade to silence.
Risk doesn’t always deliver reward, of course, and that’s the fate Concrete Sustain suffers. Still, it’s good to hear Batillus clearly trying to outfox themselves and their peers. They even succeed in fits, starts and, with only their second half, at least a third of their songs. For a band so obviously on the offensive, that approach affords a prime position for the future.
