Red Fang More Bark Than Bite

Hailing from Portland, Oregon, Red Fang does prove itself capable in the musicianship category. Numerous moments throughout the new "Whales and Leeches" album feature drummer John Sherman uncork a barrage of beats certain to have the metalheads in the listening audience going air guitar crazy and flashing those devil horns as if the secret to eternal life was found therein. Not all news is good though. I'd like to single out "No Hope" as a track with a refrain high on the redundancy meter. So in a way Bryan Giles leaves me hopeless going on ad nauseum in saying "hope". There's not even a hint of real menace to it. Sometimes that's what's really wrong with this effort. When the four of them get on the same page, as is true for the likes of "DOEN" and "Dawn Rising" the results turn into some very complex metal. Stoner metal is the sub-genre Red Fang falls under. In other words this is the kind of material you want cranked up if you're wasted or giving it some serious thought. At other times, say, during the chorus portion of "This Animal" David Sullivan's guitar is stuck in the craw discordant. I realize metal music falls smack in the category of shock and awe. They're not trying to send you off to bed with a reassured smile on your face. These purveyors of uneasiness want you to squirm. "This Animal" only does so because its moving parts don't seem destined for anything more than a disfiguring crash, victims of the haphazard way they were pasted together. You can find comfort in the fact the classic metal storylines pop up in one form or another. Death commands a place at the table as does the imagery of a wasted angel whose halo is broken. In a profound way an angel with a broken halo aptly sums up all of us chuckleheads. I found the reference to taking back one's skin, a concept illuminated in "Crows Before The Swine" to be resoundingly effective. That's where the angel adornments came from too. Some angels fly back to heaven easier than others I guess. "Behind The Light" bears the undeniable weight of hollowed out resignation. "Whales and Leeches" is somewhat similar to a football team's inconsistent field performance. Some of the time it employs all its instrumental weapons, and at others locks in on phone it in status. To be sure there are overtures to vivid artistry but they threaten to crater into monotony territory way too much to be useful for anything other than a one off listener experience. Aaron Beam's bass is a prime reason why I declare "This Animal" jagged at best, disappointingly clumsy at worst. I mean no ill will towards the people of Portland. Au contraire, my visit to that fair city was delightful and highly recommended to anyone wanting to visit a portion of the country long on basic polite. Nevertheless I, in good conscience, can't raise Red Fang's new undertaking up to the level of scintillating art. Too many of the wrong ingredients combine to create a soup that suffers from the presence of a nagging aftertaste.