Converge
You Fail Me

THE REVIEW

If form anticipates content… that severed hand in the void of a noir background is the funeral announcement of the absolute negativity one prepares for at the moment of listening to this monolith of postmodern noise art.

Because the sonic explosion of the Bostonian Converge, in their first release for the folks at Epitaph, is organic and tribal, visceral and pure like dawn.

"First light" introduces us, cold and distorted, into an emotional alley of rare violence, unleashed in series by the following five tracks. It is not easy to listen to this album in its entirety. It's an extreme adventure that forces one into a constant, painful, apnea. Jacob Bannon's screaming is uncontrolled madness, still unmatched in today's very honest underground musical landscape.

To a lacerating guitar is added a dark, primitive, "mastodon-tic" rhythm section, pleasantly recalling the infernal glories of groups seminal to the post-hardcore movement; Neurosis, Cult of Luna, Isis, Callisto. But Converge are unique. They are metallic without metal ("Black cloud"), raw and surgical ("Drop out"), cerebral and malevolent ("You fail me"), wildly acoustic ("In her shadow").

Highly recommended for those seeking the extreme oblivion, without logic or metric, but with the non-commercial abnegation and artistic integrity of a band that makes compromises only with their own, urgent, anger. A tragic musical experience.

One endures with joy.