REVIEW: “Lamb Of God” – The Soundtrack to the Summer of Our Discontent
Normally, an album review is meant to come out just ahead of the wide release as a way to signal to potential listeners what their experience might be when it finally drops, in order for them to make a decision of whether or not to invest time in it. But I’m going to go ahead and assume that with COVID-19 breaking pretty much all of society, this flimsy norm was splintered just as well. So, here we are, and I’ve had two long weeks with which to simmer on Lamb of God’s new self-titled release.
Lamb of God, the band’s first full album of original material in five years and first without founding drummer Chris Adler, represents a synthesis of just about everything good about the band’s career since the release of 2006’s Sacrament. Characterized by a blend of Sacrament’s hook-driven and anthemic groove (that has become the band’s calling card since leaving more disjointed elements behind) and some of the experimentation with texture and atmosphere that was present on Resolution or VII: Sturm und Drang, this album sees a LoG that has refined its voice as a band, playing to their strengths while giving fans exciting new sonic experiences.
To address the elephant behind the kit, new-ish drummer Art Cruz (who had already been filling in for Adler on tour) makes a splash on this first outing. While there seems to be a certain fraction of the population that wants to see this stage of the band’s evolution turn into a popularity contest between Cruz and Adler (despite a relative lack of animosity among the band members, past and present, themselves), it’s hard not to draw a comparison. To that end, and based on what his new bandmates have said, Cruz certainly seems to be a more groove-oriented player where Adler was a bit more unorthodox and progressive. Cruz’s beats hit you square on the jaw, accented by the fact that his delivery sounds somehow “heavier.” Neither is better, but Cruz is definitely different, and, as with many lineup changes, his presence brings with it a certain refreshment as well as LoG’s first(?) full-on blastbeat on the closing cut “On the Hook.”
Once listeners are past this novelty, the main thing that stands out about this release is its streamlined composition that plays out as a distillation of everything that Lamb of God has dabbled in over their long careers. While time signatures don’t vary as much as they may have on earlier releases, the songs on Lamb of God have the big choruses of the Sacrament and Wrath eras, as well as some of the textured elements characterized by their two more-recent releases, taking detours through the doomy, as in the standout “Resurrection Man,” and the chilling intro to opener “Memento Mori”. The band had of course tread in these waters on previous releases, but results were hit-or-miss. On Lamb of God, the results of those experiments have been refined and honed to become a new hallmark of the band’s sound. Of course, the groovy thrash that has defined much of their career is present, as illustrated in lead single “Checkmate” and run red-hot in back-half ragers like “Routes” (featuring Testament’s iconic Chuck Billy) or “On the Hook.” To borrow a cliché, the wheel isn’t being reinvented on this album, but the car has been re-tuned, some extra weight has been shed, and the result is a force to be reckoned with.
Instrumentally speaking, guitarists Mark Morton and Willie Adler lean into approaches that vary between muddy blues grooves and the laser-precise, and Morton’s lead playing is especially on display on “Routes”. Bassist John Campbell continues to be the band’s secret weapon, whether laying down the textural bass intro to “Reality Bath” or setting the foundation for a full-bore throwdown as on “Gears”. Frontman Randy Blythe displays the full range of his vocal prowess, from his trademark roar throughout, to haunting croons on “Memento Mori” and “Bloodshot Eyes”, to his most guttural performance yet on “Resurrection Man” (which also resurrects the deathcore “BLEGH” in full force). While there are some moments that seem to be building up to a blinding burst of speed, only to pivot to a breakdown that stays within the comfort zone tempo of the rest of the track, overall this release reminds us that Lamb of God is comprised of some of the most fluent musicians in mainstream metal.
What stands out the most to me on this album, however, is not necessarily the music itself, but the lyrical content. Lamb of God have been one of my favorite bands for 15 years, and it’s no surprise to me that they deliver great tracks. But looking back on the last 8 or so years of their development, the content has been more introspective and symbolic, especially in light of Blythe’s experiences in a Czech prison, charged (and eventually acquitted) with manslaughter after the tragic death of a fan at one of their shows. In that time, a band that had been one of the most vocally political among the bigger metal acts lost a degree of that voice. Now, at a time when people seem to be aching to separate their metal from their politics, a reinvigorated Lamb of God have shown up with this album to remind them that apolitical metal really isn’t an option, nor should it be.
Lyrics on this album touch on school shootings and desensitization to violence (“Reality Bath); Blythe’s experiences protesting the threat of the Dakota Access Pipeline project at the Standing Rock Reservation; the narcissistic Trump administration and political partisanship (“Checkmate”); anti-immigrant sentiment in America (“New Colossal Hate”); and more. Trademark turns-of-phrase abound, ranging from overt zingers in “Checkmate” like “Make America hate again” or “the American scream”; to the more esoteric lines of “Resurrection Man” such as “So chase the carrot straight to Hell” or “The bottom line is six feet down”; becoming downright English-class-level with “New Colossal Hate” and its reimagining of stanzas from Emma Lazarus’s famous poem “The New Colossus” that is emblazoned on the Statue of Liberty.
As I write this, going into month four of New York’s COVID-19 pandemic lockdown and in the wake of landmark protests against police brutality and America’s long history of racial injustice, I can’t help but feel that this album is prescient. Of course it was written a number of months back, at least, since we’ve been hearing singles since February and the release was even pushed back in light of COVID-19, but for a metal community that seems to be simultaneously exhausted by and disinterested in heavy music’s ability (or perhaps, responsibility) to confront social issues, this album seems to be handcrafted for a moment in time when every symptom of political instability and cultural conflict in the country is laid bare. This is that moment. In Lamb of God, we get more than a reinvigorated version of one of titans of the last 20 years of American metal; we get a musical rallying call to take action, whether on the stage, at the ballot box, or in the streets, and shape the next 20 years of American history.
