Cancer
Black Faith

The English band Cancer emerged at the dawn of the nineties, their sound was a rough blend between death and thrash-metal: nothing essential even for experts in the field, and much of their popularity is due to the fact that for a certain period, the band included that ubiquitous James Murphy, a true authority in death metal (notably collaborating with acts such as Death and Obituary).

But certainly, Cancer wouldn't have liked the idea of being recognized/remembered only as one of the many bands (and not even the most important one) in which James Murphy played guitar (you mentioned Jimi Hendrix...), so in 1995 they took a leap and came out with a brave album: “Black Faith,” a strange hybrid between their more typical sound and the reformist trends of the period. Like many other bands dedicated to extreme sounds until a moment earlier, in the mid-nineties, Cancer also couldn't resist the allure of the post-grunge era (when the nu-metal phenomenon hadn't yet exploded nor expressed all its laughable potential). It was hard to remain insensitive to the shockwave generated by works like “Vulgar Display of Power” and “Chaos A.D.” a few years earlier; the call to a fresh and direct sound was more seductive than ever, but it wasn't the language of a banal panther-core metal that they decided to adopt, as unfortunately many others did, plunging into the abyss of foolish emulation.

The sound of “Black Faith” is indeed modern and powerful, with overwhelming groove, bombastic riffs, but the British quartet prefers to look towards the shores of independent rock and approach the matter with rough and “live” sounds, and an “industrial” approach where sampling and electronics find no space, but where the lessons of the masters Killing Joke and Ministry remain evident (evoked by the thrash-inspired groove, but also by the prominent muscular bass, often effected vocals, and the cautious approach to certain harmonic solutions tending towards dissonance). Completing the recipe are a hint of grunge, touches of Helmet, elements of Corrosion of Conformity, bursts of stoner, and a good dose of seventies effervescence (so much so that the album seems to anticipate certain moods we'll encounter the following year with “Swansong” by fellow – and of a very different ilk – Carcass). And although John Walker (vocals and guitar), Barry Savage (guitar), Ian Buchanan (bass), and Carl Stokes (drums) are certainly not monsters in terms of technique, within the tracks, there is a detectable effort in their research that makes the listening pleasant and varied for the richness of elements and scenarios contemplated.

Of the twelve tracks on the list, the ones with a vigorous frontal impact predominate (demonstrated by the powerful opening triptych “Ants (Nemesis Ride)”/“What Do You Think You Are”/“Face to Face”, and the earth-shaking concluding “Save Me from Myself”): the more strictly death-metal urges are nullified, what's left is a thrash metal that certainly retains traces of classic names like Slayer and Metallica, and at the same time doesn't want to give up an immediacy borrowed directly from the punk/hardcore background. But the founding characteristic of “Black Faith” is that the band takes care to season granite riffs and fluid tempo changes with solutions that draw attention and make us think, “come on, it's not the same old warmed-up soup.” Details, or entire portions of a song, like the apocalyptic introduction based on double bass drum and dissonant chords of “Kill Date,” or the ambient pause constituted by the intermezzo “Temple Song,” or the solemn instrumental coda of “Highest Order,” complete with violin. Not to mention the satisfaction found in the more reflective episodes: the doom-laden (it's hard not to think of fellow countrymen Cathedral) “Without Cause” (which in its chorus showcases the only moment of authentic growl), or the catchy title-track, an (even!) ballad opened and closed by a sunny acoustic guitar arpeggio (an acoustic guitar that we find protagonist again in “Sunburnt,” the other instrumental moment). In all of this, there is also space for a scrappy cover of Deep Purple, just to emphasize the love for the seventies decade: a “Space Truckin'” quite faithful to the original, but trivialized in its execution by a decidedly scholastic performance.

Obviously, today all this might seem more than dated (and to tell the truth even at the time it didn't come off as the freshest thing in this world), thus “Black Faith” (despite the bizarre cover, from which we would have expected something more radical) should be taken for what it is, namely, an honest, smooth album, with a good drive and seasoned here and there with some winning flashes that perk up the ears even of the most inattentive listener: a commendable attempt by an otherwise mediocre band to raise their head from the chaos of bands that in the early nineties drowned in the placid sea of impersonality. So if you are incurable nostalgics and constantly look back at the good things that happened in the metal and rock universe in those three/four years from 1992 to 1995, then “Black Faith” is the chance to renew your wardrobe and rediscover a gem you probably missed.