Don_Pollo

I know the Dear Hunter mentioned in the review, but not even close to these... Do you mention Thrice as a comparison? Otherwise, what can they be compared to? Because post-hardcore is one of those words that means everything and nothing...

Wow, you’ve already published it... Anyway, please decide to include Slowcore among the genres, having to resort to substitutes every time is kind of a drag. :D

Great, here’s my (self)contribution as well. Come on, after allowing myself an unnecessary duplicate, I'm back on track (or rather, I’m already back on track, I sent another one last night...).

Damn, first comments already in the morning... Anyway, I don’t really see it as a review (actually, not at all), let’s say it’s a stream of consciousness that came out spontaneously following certain recent personal events (which Jane Doe, indeed, embodies), and what better place than the Deb to share it? P.S.: However, I wouldn't classify it as Hardcore New School (I say this because I deliberately left the genre box blank).

I loved them a lot in the past, but now they are no longer sounds that belong to me. I unconditionally respect their way of seeing music beyond simple (a)melody, though. I’ve listened to some of it, and I don't agree that it lacks personality: Meshuggah have a unique sound, unparalleled by anyone else, though many try to imitate them. But this, unfortunately, is a double-edged sword: they have such a distinctive sound that it’s impossible for them to renew it without losing their identity, without ceasing to be themselves, losing their own, unique, particularity. And this sound, in my opinion, is also the product of what Meshuggah want to communicate: extreme complexity from which nothing remains. In the end, they always grind out the same things. But it's a choice, for what they want to tell us, a sound that is both hypertrophic and annihilating. They come across as a poor madman who keeps repeating the same gesture, becoming imprisoned by it. Obsession, claustrophobia, stress. They build, rebuild, but in the end it dissolves, crumbles upon itself. It kills itself the moment it is born. It destroys everything, including itself. Like a black hole. Like the human condition.

Drones do it with the goats!

The drone makes me feel like an idiot...

Lately, I have started listening to it a lot again, and I still find it a wonderful work. I reinforce this after three years.

Are these from the low Lodi area?

Boh. Inimitable. (I'm also with the parentheses though, thanks also to #8 which is one of the most beautiful songs of the third millennium in my -undeniable- opinion)