Baroness
Yellow & Green

In the beginning, there were Neurosis. Then came Isis, followed by Mastodon. Finally, Baroness arrived, the former enfant prodige of the new metal era, to carry on the legacy of what, over the past twenty years or so (“Enemy of the Sun”, just to name one, was still from '93), has been the most innovative and disruptive path developed within metal, even though at the start it was called post-hardcore, and now it is called post-metal, with all the variations on the theme one might encounter.

The drive, however, seems to have lost its original vigor today. Already with Mastodon themselves, the matter could be considered depleted within the span of a couple of albums (“Remission” and, of course, “Leviathan”) and a half, as with “Blood Mountain” some cracks began to show. And we are not surprised if they, passing through the still acceptable “Crack the Skye”, arrived short of breath at the bland “The Hunter” of 2011, their latest album to date.

From the following year, that is 2012, comes this “Yellow & Green”, which according to many is the album Mastodon themselves should have released. So, do the children surpass the parents? Apparently, yes: having reached, without enchanting, the milestone of their third album, these guys from Virginia craft what could be called their little masterpiece, though fundamentally two problems remain: 1) Baroness have never fully convinced, despite some wanting to raise them to the status of new champions of post-post-hardcore. My opinion is that if they didn't have such beautiful covers, a lot fewer people would have noticed them. And the absence of a review of this album on the data-baser only supports my thesis. 2) Baroness, as legitimate heirs of Mastodon, should, at least theoretically, represent the last link in the evolutionary chain of the genre; and what do they serve us in the year 2012? Nothing but grunge.

Kidding aside, the sound of the latest Baroness is obviously more composite: the violence, the punk fury, the sludge of the beginnings, yes, are now a memory. Yet in the kaleidoscope of sounds and images that their music aims to project, the three manage to coexist with many and the most diverse things: stoner, progressive, folk, psychedelia, a love for the seventies, American alternative rock, something that ultimately risks resembling a bit too much a strange hybrid between Alice in Chains and Nickelback.

Put this way, I admit, it sounds discouraging (especially considering the comparison with the Canadians). “Yellow & Green” is actually not a bad album at all, quite the opposite: 1) While remaining limited and derivative authors and far from sensational musicians, Baroness appear lively, full of energy, probably at the top of their form, and their music radiates vitality from every pore, which allows them to string together almost eighty minutes of music without particular fatigue, although there are many flaws, gaps too, and great heights are almost never reached (maybe one, in a context of cute little things that certainly create a positive picture). 2) While remaining limited and derivative authors and far from sensational musicians, the three demonstrate having ingested and well metabolized the cauldron of influences they draw from generously, managing to craft a coherent amalgam, endowed with sense, and that is able to entertain and never bore despite its considerable length.

“Yellow & Green” is thus a double album, a choice that doesn't seem dictated by particular artistic or lyrical needs: the two volumes (each composed of nine tracks, both introduced by an instrumental track, respectively “Yellow Theme” and “Green Theme”) do not represent different artistic visions, nor do they seem to depart stylistically (maybe the Green album is more melodic? I wouldn't bet on it...). Truth be told, given that Yellow doesn't reach forty minutes and its companion barely exceeds thirty-five, it could have been comfortably condensed into a single medium. But perhaps John Baizley (the band leader and the creator of the beautiful covers) cared more about preserving the chromatic concept of the saga, and so, maybe undecided between yellow and green, he decided to pull a bi-color album out of the hat: hence, after the red album and the blue album, the yellow and green one, colors that certainly represent the softening of sounds on one side, and greater richness and variety of solutions and moods on the other.

In “Yellow & Green” there is anger and melancholy, but also relaxation and ease, and that carefree spirit and youthful rebellion sometimes so desperately needed. At times, it seems to almost catch a whiff of the breezy air recalled from the explosion of the grunge phenomenon in the early nineties; too bad that today, unfortunately, we live in grim days. This is the overall impression; as for the individual tracks, I must tell the truth: the first two actual songs of “Yellow” (the second track “Take my Bones Away” and the next one “March to the Sea”) did not fully satisfy me. Our guys move in a melodic context with elephantine steps, appearing clumsy in their movements, and this is not helped by Baizley behind the microphone, far from impeccable, as throughout the work he dispenses flat notes all around, especially when he raises his voice (but still better than the distressing display Mastodon have accustomed us to over the years).

But from the fourth track onward, I must say, our guys somehow recover. In “Little Things”, indeed, it is the rhythmic base that makes the difference: flourishing is Allen Blickle, perfect behind the skins, often dealing with bass drum and hi-hat (not a given in these parts) dictating a driving pace, almost mechanical, ruthlessly wave. From here on, the record takes a nice turn, between ballads worthy of the best Opeth (perhaps because Baizley's singing, which seems to move more freely when clean, closely resembles Akerfeldt's – listen to “Cocainium” and “Back Where I Belong” to believe it) and electric progressions that blend stoner assaults and sharp hard/rock riffs (“Sea Lungs”). In these latter circumstances, the simultaneous presence of the two guitars (those of Baizley himself and Peter Adams) is the true added value, as their usage doesn’t simply aim to thicken the sound, but also to weave melodic entanglements most often successful. In short, everything proceeds nicely, as mentioned, until the absolute peak of the work, the long (actually not more than seven minutes) and evocative “Eula”, a kind of visionary ballad that results in the perfect union between melody and power that Baroness intends to field.

“Green” follows along the same furrows, slightly shorter and perhaps a tad less engaging (maybe it's the lack of the surprise effect). Worth noting in this regard is the initial “Board Up the House” (a kind of Pearl Jam reinforced by distorted guitars), the beautiful “Foolsong” and “Collapse” (which recall atmospheres dear to both Opeth of “Damnation” and Alice in Chains of “Jar of Flies”, the undisputed protagonists among the artists here tributed) and the sturdy “The Line Between”, whose virulent kick-off based on pull muting and tight rhythms jolts us awake for a moment from the prevailing lull, reminding us we are still listening to a metal album.

Try saying these guys invent nothing: everything flows wonderfully, with those imperfections that, far from annoying, lend further authenticity to the product: a product that, if approached with the right mindset (without thus great expectations), can turn out to be a great listen, varied and pleasant, an ideal soundtrack for days free from commitments or for a solo car journey.