August 4
Words by Kris Peters
It’s always refreshing to have old friends around for a catch-up, and even though I haven’t yet actually met Jordan Moore, we did cross paths for a chat when his band Warning Order released their last EP With Me…With You in February of last year.
So, when the follow-up landed in my folder last week it was similar to a catch-up as alluded to above, except more on a sonic realm.
I vividly remember having enjoyed the last EP, so it is with expectation I settle in to have a crack at Perspective Lost, which will be set loose on the world on August 4.
Undertow is first cab off the rank and fades in quickly before the carnage begins.
This track sets a frenetic pace from the outset, a crushing cavalcade of guitars sitting beneath the growled cries of “live, die” that repeat urgently before some semblance of order is restored as the vocals pull back into a more clean approach that reeks of sorrow and remorse.
This pattern alternates as the track moves deeper, the contrasting strains of aggression and angst offering up a blast of uneasy comfort that is a little difficult to digest.
Then everything stops and the guitars chugg menacingly before a soaring guitar run reverberates and stutters, inviting another instrumental onslaught that is dutifully guitar-dominated.
There’s a touch of Matt Tuck from Bullet For My Valentine in there vocally, with the harsh moments feeling a little more natural. Not that the cleans don’t work, but I think I am still a touch taken aback by the severity of the contrasting forces.
Through The Ashes burns up the silence next, awash with heavy guitar and militant drums.
This song is much friendlier than Undertow, with an almost calming disposition despite the heaviness of the guitar.
Moore perpetuates this feeling with a soothing vocal interjection, and it seems he has settled in nicely to the opposing forces of good and evil.
I’m not sure what it is, but his voice here doesn’t sound as sweet, for want of a better word, and is instead purposeful and deliberate in the face of adversity. It’s almost as if the clean side of this song is the driving force rather than the usual submissive nature that inevitably accompanies aggression over the meek.
There’s a fair bit going on here musically, with each instrument adding tension and mystique. It’s hard to gauge where the darkness meets the light so far on Through The Ashes and that fine degree of separation allows greater dynamics, especially when the mournful lead guitar break takes control.
The changes are far from subtle, but are beautifully masked by a sonic wave of intensity that washes over the chaos, creating a flowing body of work that comes together nicely.
The title track ushers in the halfway mark of the EP and bounces to life with an almost funky vibe to it before pulling back and revealing a measured and almost pleasant underbelly void of extremes.
It is a complete about-face musically but still doesn’t feel completely out of place, which is an art form in itself. Which is possibly the strongest feature so far of Perspective Lost.
It doesn’t try to stick to a pattern or cater to sounds gone past. Each song is a musical experience in itself and stands alone on its merits.
This track is actually cool as fuck, and then, just when you think you have shit worked out the harsh vocals return, seemingly uninvited, but instantly make their presence felt.
They dissipate just as quickly as they surfaced, leaving in their wake a controlled sense of uneasiness that only heightens anticipation for the final two tracks to follow.
Fallen From Grace has the challenge of maintaining the drive. And whether it achieves that objective depends on which gear you want to be in.
This is a quieter, more introspective number that invokes sorrow. I’m not sure if that is the intent here, but I know I suddenly feel the weight of the world on my shoulders.
Which isn’t a bad thing. It’s actually quite refreshing and relaxing.
Not that those two feelings are what you want to maintain when listening to a metal album, and Warning Order seem to sense that as a hint of menace starts slowly creeping in and threatening a hostile takeover from within.
Which it dutifully provides.
But despite the harsh side of vocals interrupting the serenity, they still don’t completely overpower the sense of calm so painstakingly created.
A wicked guitar solo separates the opposing forces as we are led down a more rock-friendly path that holds its shape through a myriad of tempo and structural changes.
Warning Order somehow manage to resist the temptation to close out the song with a tirade of musical oppression, and, surprisingly, I find myself quietly nodding in approval. Who am I even right now?
To Sing A Song Of Death even sounds like a cesspool of aggression, and it doesn’t disappoint.
A solid drum pattern over the top of swirling guitars sets the tone before an awesome bass run adds fuel to the fire.
The dynamics going on in this track are almost intimidating and as the scathing harsh vocals spew forth it becomes even clearer how much freedom of thought and expression has gone into this collection of five songs.
There is no rhyme nor reason to any of it, which, in the modern age of technology and precision is refreshing and welcome.
What you get instead is a coming together of musical components that have seemingly grown and bonded before our ears. It could have quite easily denigrated into a melting pot of unrestrained chaos, but instead Warning Order have created a body of work that sounds more like it created itself.
And, what’s more, it has done so with style.
