N
othing impresses me more than dogged determination, and Ryan Graveface has demonstrated he may well be the poster boy for the stuff. The sole member of deceptively dark shoegazer act
Dreamend, Graveface may be most familiar to RM readers as the bassist/guitarist in experimental psych-poppers Black Moth Super Rain- bow (who contributed the song “Born on a Day the Sun Didn’t Rise” to our first Hymns compilation). With his latest release, however, he is liter- ally and figuratively on his own. And the Tears Washed Me, Wave After Cowardly Wave is the second
part to a story the singer/multi-instrumentalist began telling on 2010’s So I Ate Myself, Bite By Bite (both via his own Graveface Records label). Based upon a real-life serial killer’s journal, which Graveface claims to have purchased “years ago at an auction in the woods,” the first record traced the killer’s life from childhood to his thirties, while the second cov- ers his first taste for blood until death. Ob- sessed with cemeteries, roadside America and oddities since he was a kid, Graveface admits it was the unsettling parallels that he gradually deduced between his life and that of the diary’s author – whom he only divulges is “not one of the famous dudes” – which compelled him to set it to music. “What I thought was amazing about the journal is how normal he was, you know,
outside of the whole murder thing,” says Graveface. “He wrote about common family issues, girl trouble, job struggles, and his take on all of it was eerily similar to mine. Realizing I could relate to a serial killer wasn’t exactly a happy moment for me.” Unfortunately, it was only one of many instances to take the wind out
of Graveface’s ostensibly cursed sails. Following the release of So I Ate Myself…, he lost two close loved ones, had a ton of stock destroyed in a flood, became embroiled in a lawsuit with a former distributor and re- located to Savannah, Georgia, from Chicago, only to have numerous pos- sessions – including a cello, a banjo, a bell set, an organ and his vocal mic – irreparably damaged in the move. When most would’ve packed it in, Graveface took three weeks to
record And the Tears Washed Me…with his instruments in as-is condi- tion. “I guess I don’t know when to quit. It’s like the musical version of Final Destination,” he jokes. Figuring he was arguably just as bro-
ken as the instruments, he soldiered on and crafted a meticulously layered curio of morbidly sweet (“God Went Out of Me”), wonderfully warbly (“The Sick Call Cabinet”) and refreshingly fragile (“Cold and Dead”) psychedelic folk-pop. Listen closely to hear him even shaking his anxiety pill bottles as percussion on “Your Apparition Stays with Me Still.” Such resolve in the face of adversity
is a testament to the inner strength of Graveface, who’s definitely a bit of a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Self-deprecating and shy, yet prolific and hard-working, his dichotomous personality is reflective of his music’s equally confounding balance of dark subject matter and almost childlike cheer. “I can’t justify writing ‘pop’ songs unless there’s something gruesome
underneath,” he affirms. So mote it be.
TREVOR TUMINSKI RM 85 A U D I O D R O M E
Nile influences scattered throughout keep things thoroughly relevant. The album is perfectly bookended by the dy- namic title track and the closer “The Great Fall,” which opens with a tolling church bell and builds through ominous power chords to a grandiose blastfest of epic technical riffage and eerie leads. Between those, there is much to unset- tle your subconscious in songs such as “The Faceless One,” “Holy Chaos” and “Death’s Magnetic Sleep.” GM 0000
VENOM Fallen Angels
METAL
UNIVERSAL Venom is like the evil AC/DC in that the long-running band sticks to a consis- tent sound and theme. The blackened British metal veterans find as many ways to have lyrical discourse with the Devil as the horny Aussie rockers have ways of making thinly veiled metaphors for sex. Fallen Angels stays the course, with chugging, snarling ’tude-filled tunes such as “Sin,” “Hail Satanas” and “Death Be Thine Name” keeping the group’s proto-thrash stomp intact. The short, acoustic “Lest We Forget” and the seven-minute-long title track mix things up a bit, but we’re in it for the songs that turn hands into horns and set heads a-bangin’. “Punk’s Not Dead” and “Pedal to the Metal” suffice, but neither come close to the searing riffage of “Antechrist” or “Rege Sa- tanas,” from the band’s underrated last album, 2006’s Metal Black. Could that be why Fallen Angels was just kinda dumped without much warning? Hell only knows. DA 00½
aces on its Get Dead or Die Trying debut that year, a frantic amalgama- tion of breakneck thrash, crust and grinding death with a sense of lyrical black humour. Just as intense and memorable, Ad Nauseam ups the ante with blistering songwriting that blows away the competition. Most im- pressive is the band’s ability to bal- ance fast and furious riffing with Ben McCrow’s vocal attack, a style char- acterized by epic, shout-along pat- terns. Anthems of death, disease and destruction, such as “Apathy in the UK,” “Surrounded by Skulls,” “Just Add Nauseam” and “Entering the Arena of the Unwell,” find the band’s cheeky sense of macabre wit alive and well. Whether blasting away against skull-splitting D-beats or searing down tooth enamel with gritty-as-fuck death diatribes, The Rotted has successfully avoided the dreaded sophomore slump with ruth- less aggression and filthy musical abandon. GP 00000
CRYPTICUS/SCAREMAKER Split CD
METAL
THE ROTTED Ad Nauseam
METAL
CANDLELIGHT Having emerged from the cult tongue- in-cheek Brit death outfit Gorerotted back in 2008, The Rotted came up
SELFMADEGOD Two horror metal bands from the Ra- zorback Records family unite on this satisfyingly gruesome splatter split. Opening with the ominous “It…is… later…than…you…think” intro from classic ghost story radio program Lights Out, Crypticus kicks things off with four tracks of straight-ahead headbangin’ gore ditties. Known for its bizarre death grind and lyrics devoted to H.P. Lovecraft, Crypticus sounds a little more conventional here than usual, but its no-holds-barred take on death metal, thrash and hardcore makes for a non-stop roller-coaster of fun, regardless. Next up is Scaremaker, which wasn’t particularly impressive on its 2010 Razorback debut but deliv- ers four tracks of pleasantly punishing doom-drenched, old-school death metal about movies such as Burnt Of- ferings, Madman and ’80s cheesefest Trick or Treat. There’s absolutely no comparing Scaremaker’s output here with its previous efforts; it’s that much better. Any way you slice it, this split CD should satisfy your extreme metal and VHS horror cravings. AVL 0000
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