•
Rating:
A suicide.
How else can one define what "Cold Lake" was for the career, the image, the history that the name Celtic Frost carried with it?
Now, I wouldn't want this review to be labeled as the hysterical reprimand of a long-time fan who couldn't judge an evolutionary path, a radical change, etc., etc.
It's not like that: the songs that make up the album in question are neither fish nor fowl, they have no soul and to be clear from the start, they absolutely do not belong to the brilliant songwriting of the T.G. Warrior/M.E. Ain duo, but are influenced by glam/hair metal (and to a lesser extent speed metal, with sounds reminiscent of early Megadeth) introduced by the new pair of axe men, the infamous duo Bryant/Amberg (especially the latter, the main architect of the songwriting, as evidenced by the track credits) who evidently during the exhausting American tour post "Into the Pandemonium", managed to disintegrate, extirpate, and sweeten from the minds of the founding fathers the true meaning of sonic experimentation, of introspective and cultural research, the true cornerstone of the musical path undertaken by our heroes since the time they called themselves Hellhammer and were judged by specialized press as the most cacophonous band on the metal planet.
Otherwise, one could not explain how cultured and brilliant authors who published artworks by H.R. Giger, by Hieronymus Bosch, reduced themselves to Los Angeles-style Sunset Blvd. poses that even Vince Neil or Bret Michaels and company street glam would envy.
And this is the purely visual side and here one might argue that everyone does what they want with their image: a sacred truth, but I think the dichotomy we witnessed helplessly, petrified at the release of this "Cold Lake" is otherwise unjustifiable.
And the music?
Well, even if it were something light-years away from what was done before but still carried the absolutely indispensable trademark of Celtic Frost, then there would be nothing to object to, we would have been facing yet another sonic drift, yet another astonishing evolution, and perhaps yet another page of history.
Here Celtic Frost cannot be heard, here Celtic Frost are no longer present: bland songs, lacking bite, absolutely inconclusive in being halfway between an impersonal street metal like Motley Crue's "Too Fast for Love" and some rare speed/thrash reminiscence like Megadeth's "Peace Sells..." (especially regarding sound choices, certainly not for the quality of the musical proposal), sung by T.G. in a decidedly unnatural, forced way to sound lascivious at all costs, without involvement and transport. In short, the tracks proposed by this "Cold Lake" I believe would have been poor even if they were released under the name Slaughter or Warrant (no offense to the fans of these two bands), and that says it all.
What was supposed to be the ace up the sleeve of the successor to "Into the Pandemonium," that is, finally matured and complete technical ability in solos (for this, the two "guitar heroes" mentioned above were hired), becomes the most embarrassing component, manifested in pyrotechnic and noisy solos that are decidedly annoying and not fitting the musical context. A failure from this point of view as well.
The only positive note: the other half of the dark mind branded Celtic Frost, Martin Eric Ain, did not participate in the composition and recording of the aforementioned flop. It's a small consolation, but at least something, in terms of esteem and consideration, was saved.
To be kept as a relic and as a negative warning.
Tracklist Lyrics and Samples
06 Juices Like Wine (04:15)
Thirst and desire, to rule the light
For crossing heavens, a futile fight
Bound to storm, our minds wave
Fervent to sail in deserts of mist
Juices like wine, like the blood in the sands
Juices like wine
Born of earth, we strive for skies
Obsessed with lies, in arms of sleep
Earning dreams, we blind our eyes
Challenging secrets, ancient the cries
Juices like wine, like the blood in the sands
Juices like wine
09 Downtown Hanoi (04:17)
Four arc lights. Moving stealth.
Two ride up north. Into the barrel fear.
Desire to share. My valiant care.
Downtown Hanoi.
We are drowning in purple wine.
Standing as one, as one we line.
Gold and light did stop their dance.
A fever obscene, a wicked romance.
I'm tasting sweat on my tongue.
Fane of wicked green.
Faith to the heart.
Passion and death.
Downtown's breath.
13 Mexican Radio (03:34)
Mexican Radio
written by Wall of Voodoo, from their album Call of the West
I feel a hot wind on my shoulder
And the touch of a world that is older
I turn the switch and check the number
I leave it on when in bed I slumber
I hear the rhythms of the music
I buy the product but never use it
I hear the talking of the DJ
Can't understand - just what does he say?
I'm on the Mexican radio
I'm on the Mexican (whoa ho) radio
(Radio DJ speaking in Spanish)
I dial it in and tune the station
They talk about the U.S. inflation
I understand just a little
No comprende - it's a riddle
I'm on the Mexican radio
I'm on the Mexican (whoa ho) radio
I'm on the Mexican radio
I'm on the Mexican (whoa ho) radio
(Radio DJ speaking in Spanish)
I wish I was in Tijuana -
Eating barbecued iguana
I'd take requests on the telephone
I'm on a wavelength far from home
I feel the hot wind on my shoulder
I dial it in from south of the border
I hear the talking of the DJ -
Can't understand - just what does he say?
I'm on the Mexican radio
I'm on the Mexican (whoa ho) radio
I'm on the Mexican radio
I'm on the Mexican (whoa ho) radio
Radio, Radio
Radio, Radio
Radio, Radio
Radio, Radio
I'm on the Mexican radio
I'm on the Mexican (whoa ho) radio
I'm on the Mexican radio
I'm on the Mexican (whoa ho) radio ...
Radio
Radio
What does he say?
Radio
Radio
Radio
Loading comments slowly
