...And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead
The Century Of Self

The anticipation for this sixth album by ...Trail Of Dead was immense, at least from my perspective. Given the masterpieces they've gifted us over the past decade, it's fair to expect a lot from each of their new releases.

It's a bit disappointing, then, to have to clarify right away that "The Century Of Self," while still remaining at excellent levels, struggles to compare with the albums that preceded it. This slight decline may be attributed to that inclination towards grandiosity that has always been part of the Texans' stylistic hallmark, and which already, at the time of marvelous albums like "So Divided," made some purists cringe. The fact is that, while previously they always managed to stay well on this side of the line separating good taste from bad, in some brief episodes of this album, the sense of measure seems a bit lost. Take "The Far Pavilion" as an example, a track that would most closely resemble the sound of "Source, Tags & Codes" (2002) if it weren't interrupted towards the end by an orchestral part with epic tones that seems somewhat thrown in there haphazardly.

In truth, the band has never hidden its ambitions of grandeur, even being somewhat off-putting to some, but never before had they slapped us in the face with such magnificence. Let it be clear: the album is still a great journey, because the class is there and it shows, and the Muse effect is averted thanks to a punk spirit that is not (yet) completely dormant, as in the impetuous "Isis Unveiled." A hint of mannerism is noticeable in ballads like "Luna Park," but these are isolated cases. The lion's share is taken by songs like "Inland Sea," "Bells Of Creation" or "Pictures Of An Only Child," where the group gives its best, distilling pure pathos that gives you goosebumps. When they try to shuffle the deck, gems like "Fields Of Coal" emerge, with an anthem-chorus that seems sung by a choir of Guinness-drunk punks. Elsewhere, they venture into almost progressive territories, with complex tracks that develop through dynamic rises and falls and long instrumental parts (see "Halcyon Days"). We're certainly not on the same wavelength as The Mars Volta, of whom our band lacks the technical prowess, rather more in common emerges with the other band that rose from the ashes of At The Drive-In, namely Sparta. In particular, I refer to that common operation at the crossroads between muscular indie rock, prog, and the epicness of mid-80s U2.

In conclusion, although this is not the best album by ...Trail Of Dead, the test can be considered widely passed. If anything, the doubts concern the future direction of Conrad Keeley and his associates because the impression is that their sound is being excessively refined, risking losing definitively the most genuine and indie component of their background (an impression further confirmed by the live DVD included in my edition of the album, with performances of older tracks often ruined by omnipresent keyboards). Today more than ever, ...Trail Of Dead is a "take it or leave it" experience, you either love them or hate them, and I (barring future missteps) have not yet stopped loving them.