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Amebix, Sonic Mass: And Ever May You Be

When Amebix vocalist/bassist Rob “The Baron” Miller dropped a line and requested a review of the band’s first album in more than 20 years, my response was simple: I’m not qualified. In saying so, I was sincere. I was never cool enough to be the crust punk anarcho kid. I never had the backpatch, the “No Gods, No Masters” tattoo, the smell. Amebix’s two legendary and massively influential LPs, Arise! (1985) and Monolith (1987), have gone unexplored on my part for years, so when Sonic Mass (released by the band in cooperation with Easy Action Records) came along, I felt I had no basis to appreciate it and that I wouldn’t be able to judge it with the proper context – I’d be out of my league, in other words. Miller, probably well thinking I was a total ass, sent the album anyway. It was released in Sept. 2011, and I slept on the download as I do a lot of downloads, the added element of intimidation not helping the cause, until I finally saw the album on Nathan Carson of Witch Mountain’s year-end list on The Bone Reader (credit where it’s due), which was endorsement enough for me to at last give Sonic Mass the listen it deserves. I relate this story mostly to explain what took so long on the review and to cover my ass in case I get some contextual element horribly wrong or come off ignorant of Amebix’s legacy (which, again, I am), but also to give some background on the effect Sonic Mass had on me as a listener.

A lot of albums, it being months after the release, I’d probably just let go, but Sonic Mass hits with an air of profundity suited to the decades since Amebix’s last studio full-length. Working within and outside the genre the band helped create, it is timeless, and so I feel less constrained by time in talking about it. Or maybe that’s just my way of justifying having slept on a cool record. In any case, Amebix’s third album doesn’t arrive completely without warning. The trio of Rob, brother/guitarist Stig C. (Chris) Miller and drummer Roy Mayorga (ex-Nausea/Soulfly/Stone Sour) came together for shows in 2009 and in 2010 released the Redux EP reworking three classic Amebix tracks – “Arise!,” “Winter” and “Chain Reaction.” It was a move justified by a change in methodology and sound and a firm way of noting that 21st Century Amebix is not the same band it once was or just an act trying to recapture the rawness of their early work. Instead, the material on Sonic Mass is imbued with a sense of drama more befitting a modern interpretation of the early-‘90s heyday of Peaceville-style gothic doom than sleeping-on-your-floor punk, though strains of industrial intensity remain consistent, however more cleanly they might be presented here. Structured for vinyl, Sonic Mass works in two sides, but the 10 songs make linear sense as well; a flow mirrored within the tracks coming to a final apex on pre-album single “Knights of the Black Sun” that satisfies a tension built over the course of the preceding 43 minutes. Still, there’s a grandiosity to Sonic Mass immediately on opener “Days” that flies in the face of crust’s keep-it-simple ethos, at least partially.

I say “partially” because on Sonic Mass, no matter how indulgent Amebix get, they only once lose sight of structure, and when they do it, it’s on purpose. Accordingly, “Days” is more circumstance than pomp, beginning with The Baron’s bass and a semi-spoken delivery of the appropriate opening lines, “We came out of the night/Bloodied yet unbowed/From days we always will remember.” Mayorga and Stig soon join in with a military march worthy of some of Primordial’s constant battle with post-conflict regret, Mayorga enhancing the grandeur with synth strings and choirs soon swallowed by a mounting wall of guitar. The ensuing final minute is given to the repetition of “These days will never come again,” and heavier setup for “Shield Wall,” which is precisely what it sounds like: A protective battlement. Flowing directly from “Days,” Mayorga counts in and Stig soon unleashes a grinding churn that wouldn’t be out of place on Monolith were it not topped with layers of noise and wailing highs. They don’t keep the battle theme, though, and instead moving into more spiritual ground with “The Messenger” and “God of the Grain,” which mark the point at which the crux of Sonic Mass really gets under way. The atmosphere is set and Amebix have already established that the palette has widened and they’re able to move in a varied ambience and still evoke a feeling of consistency – not something one might expect a band who hasn’t put out new material in 20-plus years to do – but if Sonic Mass proves anything, it proves there’s power in defying expectation.

Mechanical triplet-riffing and a heavily rhythmic delivery from The Baron help give “The Messenger” an inhuman feel, but the song itself – which opens with the interfaith blessing “baraka” and begins an exploration of spirituality that continues on “God of the Grain” and the rest of the album – tackles enlightenment on a human level, invoking the god Hermes and Ouroboros along the way. They’re not included with the CD, but lyrics are a central focus throughout Sonic Mass, as “Days” has shown and “The Messenger” confirms. The Baron is mostly clean in his shouting, but still aggressive in league with some of Amebix’s industrial leanings. “The Messenger” begins to show a Killing Joke influence and the chorus and bridge to “God of the Grain” affirm it, but what’s most notable about the former is that no matter how loud it’s played, it never seems louder enough. With a basic pop structure of intro/verse/chorus/verse/chorus/bridge/chorus/outro, “The Messenger” is executed with a feeling of adrenaline and sense of immediacy that right away makes it one of Sonic Mass’ best and most memorable tracks. Where “God of the Grain” is catchy and loaded with forward drive, “The Messenger” feels like they could ride those triplets for another 10 minutes and not lose any of the energy. Mayorga adds to the effect with double-kick and well-timed pauses, and Stig’s waltz-esque progression is infectious, transitioning seamlessly to the more straightforward push of “God of the Grain.” The Killing Joke comparison mostly applies to The Baron’s vocals, but Mayorga’s hi-hat and snare work during the verse/chorus transitions and repetitive tom fills during the verses fit as well. A spiritual thematic is maintained, with a lyrical setting in Egypt and the gods Mithras, Dionysius, Osiris, Adonis and Jesus named in the bridge.

That level of specificity in the lyrics is striking, but “Visitation” moves into more ethereal ground, still keeping a musical structure, but topping it with spoken vocals and, in places, dialogue, that lead to a chorus of “I am here/You know me/Here I am.” Compared to “God of the Grain” or even “The Messenger,” “Visitation” is vague, but as the close of the album’s first half and the longest cut on Sonic Mass, its long fadeout makes sense, Stig’s chugging guitar and Mayorga’s drums leading the way out amid formless echoes of laughter and eventually, a ringing phone that’s unnerving to the point where when I hear the sigh that finally ends the track, I can’t be sure it’s not my own. It’s a definitive break between the first and second halves of the record, but “Sonic Mass Part 1” confirms the intent at sides by echoing “Days” in terms of form. The track is led by acoustic guitar and The Baron’s vocals – not quite as wistful – are still poetically edged. There are echoed thuds placed subtly behind that foreshadow the heaviness of “Sonic Mass Part 2,” but telegraphed though it might be, the song nonetheless leaves a crater in its shape. Yelling timed to the guitar, rumbling bass and syncopated kicks – it’s all more metal than not, but the immediacy of “Sonic Mass Part 2” is without genre. Its verse seems to be working in a time of its own, and The Baron’s vocals are harsher in their preaching – “we all were brothers once and shared the secrets of the stars” being a standout line amid congregations and masses. I don’t know if “Sonic Mass Part 2” is heavier than “The Messenger,” but the comparison feels moot, if that says anything either way.

“Here Come the Wolf” pulls back somewhat. It’s more melodic and dramatic, whispered verses and a heavy reliance on its chorus, it doesn’t have the same kind of oppressive darkness that either “Sonic Mass” had, but it is remarkably well written musically, bringing back some of Sonic Mass’ earlier battle themes. The image of “the wolf” is cliché, but in the context of the song, it seems to be more about a shapeless fear than any particular creature. Still, “Here Come the Wolf” works less lyrically than some of Amebix’s other material, particularly as compares to closing duo “The One” and “Knights of the Black Sun,” which tie together cosmic and spiritual ideas and more ephemeral human movement to result in something genuinely epic. They fit the part musically as well. “The One” is less a single figure than an overarching totality, and Stig winds through a complex riff progression to get to a more open chorus, Mayorga keeping a tight grip on the rhythm in the second half of the song while The Baron layers call and response spoken vocals that come on with a megaphone-type effect to give an air of speaking to the crowd at a rally, fitting for addressing all of humanity, which seems to be what’s happening there. One last seamless transition brings the soft opening of “Knights of the Black Sun,” and Stig soon introduces the central figure above a running bass line from The Baron. Vocals come on about a minute in, and they’re narrative, resting atop a musical build that doesn’t reveal itself until you’re already swept up in it. Mayorga’s synth is stunning in complementing the guitar and bass, and double-time hi-hat adds a frantic sensibility to the middle verses.

Again, I’d relate this to something Primordial does especially well, but as The Baron pronounces “The great god fear is dead/So from the rooftops call it out/You were always free,” he seems to be in direct conversation with Amebix itself. It’s been 30 years since “No Gods, No Masters,” but the lines “Your god is your chains/Reject your god, reject your system/Do you really want your freedom” feel reborn in the anthemic sprawl of the ending to “Knights of the Black Sun” the way one mythology is born of another. Mayorga announces the coming of the song’s adrenaline-soaked final movement with snare hits and all too soon, it’s just feedback echoing out the album’s completion, fading much faster than did “Visitation” at the end of side A. In its final moments, Sonic Mass seems to cast off the sense of struggle that has driven so much of the album, finding not so much a resolution, but at very least a comfort with the lack of one – about the best we can hope for, ultimately. On a purely sonic level, in about a minute’s time, Amebix pay off the intensity and the tension of the whole album with their closer, but more than that, they summarize and account for the perspective with which said album relates to both itself and Amebix’s seemingly insurmountable legacy – an impressive feat accomplished with masterful efficiency that proves just one of many on Sonic Mass. The key is the honesty. It’s the honesty that makes it work. Amebix didn’t reunite and try to pass off some half-hearted attempt at reliving 1985, and if they had, it wouldn’t have worked. Instead, Sonic Mass is current and modern in nearly every way, and succeeds in being no less integral for that.

I don’t have the problem of having set expectations in my head for what Amebix should be, so when I hear this album, I’m open to the shifts in atmosphere and melodicism that they undertake. Anyone who either shares my lack of expertise on the band or can look past their own associations and approach Sonic Mass with an open mind, should. What I thought would be an impediment to my experience of the album turned out to be an asset, because a work like this, though it shares the Amebix name (and rightly), deserves to be engaged on its own level and its own terms. Provided that, its sense of presence and accomplishment are undeniable.

Amebix’s website

Easy Action Records

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2 Responses to “Amebix, Sonic Mass: And Ever May You Be”

  1. doomborn says:

    I myself find “Knights of the Black Sun” to be one of the best songs ever written by Amebix, unfortunately I don’t feel that for the rest of the album which is full of mediocre semi-numetal/mallcore riffing and unrememberable songs…

  2. B. Jacob Campbell says:

    Of having a good memory, I may not ever be accused, but I’ve not forgotten a second of a single song on it since the first, full listening experience. I intended to just keep checking it out piecemeal, put it on, and couldn’t stop until it was done with me. No idea how many times I’ve played it through and/or repeated certain, varying tracks(a bad memory.. ), and I’ll hear it again regularly, I’m sure, for the rest of my days, along with all of their body of work. It’s massive, monolithic, fucking genius, an incredibly intricate, and elemental in its simpicity, simultaneously. Some would consider Geordie’s riffs generic, mediocre, etc. for the same reasons if adhering to similar standards; speaking of the ‘Joke! That’s laughable…

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