Dark Angel
Time Does Not Heal

THE REVIEW

9 songs, 67 minutes, 248 riffs...

The fourth and so far last album by Dark Angel is inevitably associated with this thunderous proclamation, and is widely categorized as the definitive masterpiece of thrash metal, forgetting that unfortunately thrash does not live on riffs alone...

The immediate impact with the album is not the best: the instinctiveness that had characterized the early days of the Los Angeles combo has now disappeared to make way for a more cerebral and meditated approach (perhaps also due to the departure of guitarist Jim Durkin, leaving Gene Hoglan practically free to unleash his elaborate psyche), and the large number of ideas placed into the songs will make the work difficult to digest at first, not to mention soporific. Then, over time and with increasing listens, one begins to appreciate the complex musical texture of the tracks, with the intricately elaborate guitar parts merging and intertwining with each other, thanks also to Gene Hoglan's sumptuous and earthquake-like drumming, essential in stitching together the fabric of each song, leading the show with incredible tempo changes and fills. Of course, some passages appear forced or even boring, but it is difficult to maintain attention when each song never falls below 5 minutes in length (even though it must be said that other bands, like Coroner, succeed in this feat with ease).

But there is something beyond the musical verbose that drags the album down, something that answers to the name of Ron Rineheart. The singer, a replacement for the roaring beast Don Doty (the "roaring beast" is meant in a positive sense naturally), in the previous "Leave Scars," had provided a decent performance, quite angry and with some high notes placed at the right point (listen to the martirized cover of "Immigrant Song"). Unfortunately, here he sets in his head (or maybe Gene Hoglan sets in his head...) to want to sing in the common sense of the term. The result is tragicomic: first of all, his vocal range allows him to cover a range of 3-4 notes at most, so his melodies embarrassingly repeat from song to song; but it is precisely the tone that definitively kills his performance on the album: a whining whimper more suited to a hairdresser in a love crisis than to a his brawny, tattooed self. If the instrumental parts were predominant, one might pay less attention...but no! He doesn't stop for a moment, his vocal lines permeate every song, and he practically sings over every riff, so much so that one finds oneself waiting for the solo like water in the desert. Solos that nonetheless disappear from the radar, limiting themselves to fleeting appearances that only in a couple of moments add something to the song ("An Ancient Inherited Shame"). However, when the singer gets the idea of giving more aggression, the songs become exceptional, such as "Psychosexuality" or the magnificent crescendo that turns into a furious assault (finally!) of "A Subtle Induction", but in general the average listener finds themselves nostalgically longing for the days of the epochal "Darkness Descends".

And now I'm going to listen to "Infernal Overkill" by Destruction, because Schmier never thought of starting to sing, did he?