Every now and then, the more extreme corners of music produce something that transcends heavy metal; something that infiltrates the mainstream consciousness and makes people realise metal isn’t just denim, leather and unintelligible vocals. Deafheaven did it with ‘Sunbather’, Behemoth did it with ‘The Satanist’ and now it’s Gojira’s turn.
‘Magma’ is unlike anything the French band have released before. Its opening gambit, The Shooting Star, drills the fact into your head in no uncertain terms. Its mid-paced chug is reminiscent of sludgier ‘Remission’-era Mastodon, with Mario Duplantier’s drum fills remaining a mystery to the average human. His brother, Joe, delivers almost monotone clean vocals in the highest register we’ve ever heard from him, and it’s as though Jaz Coleman or Michael Gira got even more miserable.
It’s also obscenely heavy. Jean-Michel Labadie’s beastly bass captures the energy he exudes live, wrecking the foundations below Duplantier and Christian Andreu’s intricate guitar melodies.
Gojira have always been classed as a technical death metal band, but, following 2012’s ‘L'Enfant Sauvage’, the band have further reined in their sound in a move they attribute to hearing Sepultura’s ‘Chaos A.D.’ a bit too often.
And that shows. The Cell’s gritty riffs recall Slave New World, but the flow and feel of the record also nod to ‘Roots’. Touches of Little Wood-Music and Jasco are found on Liberation and Yellow Stone, with the latter lending ‘Magma’ the ebb and flow of Tool’s ‘Ænima’.
It all sounds ‘90s as fuck – wallet-chains, Walkmans and all. But it’s not. It borrows from those ground-breaking bands – Stranded’s squealing riff is so Dimebag – and applies that knowledge to their own tried and tested formula and those of their contemporaries.
Mastodon are channelled in the tapped guitar lines of Silvera, before it slams you into that verse: “When you change yourself you change the world.” The planet is fucked and Gojira want you to know about it. Even Duplantier’s screamed vocals are delivered with newfound clarity, demanding attention with both their visibility and catchiness.
Pray manages to perfect that colossal barrage of drums Septicflesh had a stab at on ‘Titan’, implementing doses of escalation like The Art Of Dying from ‘The Way of All Flesh’ before the volcano erupts and the listener is incinerated. “No faith in you, I’ll create my own,” Duplantier roars, prefacing one of the bleakest minutes Gojira have ever committed to tape.
‘Magma’ is a heavy record. The sprawling title track, which rumbles for seven minutes and utilises two simple chord progressions, would be beautiful if it stayed within the elegant, sleek parameters it begins in. But no. Halfway through classic Gojira territory is revisited, with every switch set to ‘flatten’.
Given that the band’s previous three LPs have been genuine album of the year material, it’s hard to say, at this stage, if ‘Magma’ truly delivers on that level. But what this record certainly does do is bump Gojira into an elite club, with the likes of Tool, Meshuggah and Mastodon, of metal bands that command respect the world over.
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