Metal, punk and hardcore have been cohabiting for some time, certainly since thrash reared its head in the early ‘80s, and it’s also been a good while since critics and artists alike began to roll their eyes instead of attempting to categorise the myriad sub genres.
Bands like Of Mice and Men, Asking Alexandra and Parkway Drive have all gathered beneath the banner of metalcore in recent years though, bringing punk tempos, guttural roars, thrash guitars and solos, rapid double pedal drumming and, a hackneyed staple, breakdowns to the table.
Into this world step CB6 with their debut ‘Succession’, on which they deliver metal and hardcore ferocity while steering clear of some of the more popular clichés. Producer Matt Hyde, who has also worked with Slipknot and Gallows, has the groove-laden songs of this young Southend four-piece sounding refreshingly gritty, raw and free of the overproduction that has become endemic in modern metalcore. This is the sound of a band baring its teeth.
‘Succession’ is an impressive first step. They show deftness and potency across the 11 tracks, with unexpected tempo switches allowing bruising chug to become speeding pummel.
If there’s any chink in the bands armour, it’s Ryan Monteith’s lyrics. While his vocal chords conjure a savage, hoarse bark that’s reminiscent of Frank Carter’s acid-refluxed effort on Gallows’ ‘Grey Britain’, his lyrics are audible, but rarely effective.
The album’s cover art depicts a king falling with an arrow through his eye - step forward Harold Godwinson? - while his gold crown slips and a bag of coins drops from his hand. It illustrates, as well as the record's title, a loss of power and the classic idea of ‘how the mighty have fallen’, themes that appear across the album.
Monteith’s lyrics are preoccupied with fantasy, but without cartoonishness, and things do take a turn for the more philosophical with Clocks, the second track on the record. Its slow, grinding riffage is broken up by drummer Joey Drake launching some machine gun cymbals, with the lyrics inspired by the poem ‘The Clock of Life’ by Robert H Smith.
Except for the all-too-brief Illusion, which gathers pace slowly with creepy guitar licks before an eventual dash of bludgeon, the album is designed to incite chaos with one three minute track after another. If sometimes lacking in variety, ‘Succession’ does at least tick all the boxes for one of the most moshable debut albums of 2013 so far. Needless to say, these young men will be completely in their element on stage.
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