•
Rating: THE REVIEW
Today I don't care.
I don't care if I didn't find the freedb tracklist, I don't care if I haven't filled in the fields yet. I'll fill them in when I've calmed down. I don't care if there's already a complete and exhaustive review of this album. I don't care.
Let's use a metaphor. Stylish. Imagine a record. Take, for example, Jane Doe by Converge.
Imagine this album, artwork, cover, booklet and all, passing through a human head, breaking it and entering inside, passing through it, the brain metabolizes it. Absorbs it. Devours it. Say it however the hell you want.
As soon as I start with concubine, the heart rate synchronizes, it's a heart attack, it's a bumper car ride so big it really hurts. It's blood coming out of veins and arteries and passing through any organ until it hits the soul straight away. The agony of vocal cords, sacrificed in the name of themselves (there's no god/higher reality to refer to: the previous bumper car ride eliminated any belief, idea, or thought), metallic cords, rough, so rough I could flay my entire body on them. A drum so strong every beat is a heart attack, every hit is a stroke, every cymbal hit and you feel something exploding inside you. Into a thousand pieces. That hit each other. And create new fragments. That then come together. And explode again.
Emotions: you discover it's not white noise, what you feel. It's not hate you're searching for, it's not anger you're venting. Here lies the genius of these damn 45:17 minutes long as a millennium and short as a second. Call it negativity, schizophrenia, paranoia, call it what you want: this CD is alive.
Alive. It speaks to you. Caresses your face, but hides a blade between its fingers. Throws a punch, then opens its hand and gives you life. Loves you, or hates you, often does both [simultaneously] with the same maniacal dedication. Takes you to bed, and doesn't let you come out whole. It's alive for those who listen to it. It's functionary to them, like every work of art is in the function of the subject, yet it's so intrinsically linked, that, really, I still have a broken head.
What is the difference between a scream and a whisper? None. In the ears, they hurt in the same way. Some have chosen to scream. Others, to whisper. Jane Doe screams whispering to our ears. To our brains. To our souls. Who can ever say if we will survive our life?
Loading comments slowly
Summary by Bot
This review captures the raw power and emotional depth of Converge's album Jane Doe. Described as a visceral and immersive experience, the album mixes brutal vocals and aggressive instrumentation to create a work of art that deeply affects the listener. It balances pain and beauty, screaming and whispering, showcasing the band's genius and unique style. The reviewer emphasizes how the album is alive, speaking to the soul with relentless intensity.
Converge
Converge is an American band from Massachusetts, widely associated with metalcore and mathcore, and frequently cited for landmark releases such as “Jane Doe.”22 Reviews
Other reviews
By Fraska!
Listening to Converge is a mystical journey, an erratic ascent and descent.
"Jane Doe" is universally (and rightfully) considered the masterpiece of the Boston band.
By Don_Pollo
The only right thing is silence. The silence that during the 45 minutes of duration you will never hear for more than a second, but after those 45 minutes will be infinite, perpetual, deafening, annoying.
Jacob Bannon screams in an incomprehensible manner, not of this world.
