When I first heard about a Canadian singer called Cory Marks who makes country music bearable by adding elements of rock and metal, I was admittedly dubious. The only time I have ever heard it done well enough to keep my attention was from a band called Rebel Meets Rebel, and even then, it was only the rhythm section from Pantera that sparked my interest enough to even give it a chance.
But, being much more open musically these days, I gave Cory Marks a crack, listening to his third album Sorry For Nothing Volume 1. It didn’t hurt that names like Sully Erna (Godsmack), Mick Mars (Motley Crue) and DL (Bad Wolves) were attached, but, much to my surprise, I actually enjoyed most of the album. There was one or two there that had a little too much country DNA left in them to cause me distress, but for the most part, it was a highly enjoyable album.
Which brings me to Volume 2. The most noticeable difference this time around is no big names to lean on, which might be cause for concern, but the only way to find out is to hit play, strap my boots on and let her rip…
First up is one of the singles, Hangman, which opens with minimal instrumentalisation, instead allowing Marks‘ distinctive voice to dictate proceedings. This lasts only fleetingly as the band kicks in and eases into a measured rock track with a natural flow that shows why this was chosen to address the radio.
Hangman has stadium rock written all over it, complete with hand claps in one of the breakdowns. Where most bands use drums or guitar to trigger breakdowns, Marks‘ uses his voice, manipulating it in such a fashion to effectively alter the tempo of the song without the usual fanfare. Very cool way to start the journey.
Another single, Are You With Me?, follows, complete with fuzzy guitar and a driving drum pattern that almost dares you to not stomp your feet. Marks‘ voice definitely has a country feel to it, with the occasional country drawl creasing his lips, but the rock is also strong with this one.
This is a fast-paced and catchy number that rumbles along to its own moods, sporadically broken up with a tasty guitar solo and vocal fluctuations from Marks that switch from country crooning to hard rock shrieks with relative ease. This is another song that would get the crowd jumping, offering enough by way of bounce to get your heart pumping and the juices flowing.
Change The Game begins with a more swirling guitar tone before regressing to a quick shuffle that subsides just enough to allow Marks a moment of vocal solitude that acts as a mini breakdown of sorts.
There’s quite a few subtle shifts in direction here, courtesy of a guitar twang or slight hand clap, that keeps things interesting rather than just allow the song to stick to one bearing. It veers off course on a number of occasions, always returning to roost in the shuffling rock-driven underbelly that is so far outweighing the country influences.
The Heart Breaks When It Wants To sounds like it is about to test the waters, easing to life courtesy of a nice bit of reverb, but quickly takes a turn into the land of cowboys and solitude. So far, it sounds like the perfect campfire breakup song, capturing that moment when the horse has up and bolted and the bottle of whisky is nearing the last drop. This track exudes sorrow, but not enough to have me reach for the skip button. Yet.
The haunting guitar that feeds the melancholy is a welcome respite from the general feelings of apathy this song is obviously wanting to channel, and once it rises into a prolonged solo, I have made up my mind to see it through to the end. Which says a lot coming from a musical metal snob like myself.
Next up is Wild Ride, and before the track even starts, I have a feeling I am going to find this ride right up my alley. And it doesn’t disappoint, with a quick drum shuffle and tasty guitar lick firing from the outset. I don’t know my instruments as well as I should, but there’s an eerie twang to the guitar that could suggest a banjo or something similar. Whatever it is I like it.
This is the most guitar-driven song on the album so far, driving along at an upbeat tempo. As the song draws on, I don’t actually think it is a banjo but more likely a guitar effect, but whatever it is, it’s fucken cool. There’s a shitload of hard rock fighting to be heard here, and for the first time I find myself fully appreciating the role Marks‘ voice plays here. He has a natural country swagger to his vocals and doesn’t try to beef the songs up with just his voice alone. Instead, he utilises all of the tools at his disposal to create an overall feel of elevated rock music that sounds neither fake nor forced.
An awesome guitar or whatever it is solo breaks that train of thought, and I suddenly feel like I’m in a hoedown catered towards those who like their music more on the edge. The guitar continues, duelling with the drums in a war of attrition that ends in a stalemate as Marks pulls things back briefly before returning us to what is, as promised, a wild ride.
Someone I Hate arrives with a similar swagger to Bon Jovi’s Dead Or Alive, but instead of a wanna be cowboy coming in on vocals, we get a bona fide country artist crooning over the world’s problems. That cool guitar twang returns, and fucked if I can put my finger on what it actually is, but let’s just say it kicks ass.
It’s different to hear someone singing about someone they hate nicely, but that suddenly changes as the guitars soar, taking Marks‘ voice with it, and things take a turn towards metal city, albeit only briefly. Marks allows his anger to assume control in parts, adding a different dimension to an otherwise by-the-numbers song for the masses, and leaves me wanting more.
Or does it? Would it be as effective if Marks spent more time tapping into that side of his musical persona, or is it best left for effect? There’s one to think about…
Next week’s single, Whiskey River, eases out of the blocks next, and this one is dripping with country and western. It’s a rollicking fun time that has me twirling with a cowgirl in my head while in reality, my fingers are moving roughly over the keyboard. Despite its country pedigree, this track isn’t making me cringe. In fact, quite the opposite. My head is bopping (not banging) despite my neck muscles trying to resist, while my feet are tapping under the desk in a moment I will likely deny if ever asked about it in the future.
Empty Bottles is something I can relate to, and from the moment soft, delicate strokes of the guitar strings fill the air, it’s plainly obvious that Marks has a dislike for empty bottles as well. It seems like this track is just Marks and his guitar, taking an acoustic walk through struggle town.
This is a quite haunting track on its own, until the arrival of the rest of the band adds even more feelings of sorrow and regret. It’s a different way to deal with your problems by allowing waves of regret to sonically flow instead of the more aggressive undertones of metal, but at least you don’t have the fear of breaking your hand in the process…
Pick Up The Phone starts with a haunting guitar riff that shuffles on repeat as Marks works his way into the battle with a calm and measured opening salvo. He soon gathers steam as the pace quickens courtesy of a more insistent slab of drumming, but it seems solitude is going to be the winner on this occasion as things regress back into the serenity of emotions, held at a steady keel by the rise and fall of Marks‘ vocals that dominate proceedings.
An awesome guitar segue momentarily adds spice to Pick Up The Phone, which in turn invites a more urgent drum delivery without changing the focus of the song too much. Some interesting sound effects bring the song to a close, which are an intriguing and late addition to the previous musical styles that have so far made up Volume 2.
A Different Kind Of Year starts with a familiar country guitar twang that quickly settles into a mid-paced track that sounds like it was written to entice people onto the dance floor. This is maybe the best example of the amalgamation of rock and country on the album, for all intents and purposes being the epitome of a country number but carrying enough moments of rock sensibilities to draw the interest of ears that would normally close at the thought.
The guitars play a big part in A Different Kind Of Year, adding subtle layers of elevation that enable Cory Marks‘ music to nestle between two musical realms without taking roots in either.
An acoustic version of Sorry For Nothing closes out Sorry For Nothing Volume 2, and finally, we get an opportunity to hear just Marks‘ voice and guitar. It’s a powerful song considering the lack of electric instruments, proving the strength in Cory Marks‘ voice without the multitude of distractions that invariably accompany a full band recording.
Is this a metal album? Sadly, no. Is it a rock album? Opinions will be divided here, but for mine there is enough rock influence running through it that I would have to say yes. Admittedly, the country reigns strong throughout, but not enough to be overbearing and secular. There’s enough of each to appease fans of both genres, but the fact Sorry For Nothing Volume 2 held my interest from the opening note to the last proves that there is enough rock meatiness to appeal to a broader market.
And Cory Marks has managed to achieve this all by himself with no rock or metal guests, which makes it even better.
