Kreator
Outcast

THE REVIEW

"Outcast" ('97) is that sort of unstable calm in which the mind of the maniac lies, futilely trying to impose a restraint on its urges. It is walking among the debris that the fury of the previous "Cause for Conflict" ('95) left behind, nullifying one’s nature and flipping it like a glove. It is yet another aftershock from the creative genius of the undisputed leader Petrozza, who, once again, manages to have the demon wear a new mask, unpredictable and unexpected: a true revolution in terms of sound and songwriting which, as often happens in these cases, ended up leaving victims in its wake.

The first and most predictable is Joe Cangelosi, guilty of “usurping” the throne of the monument "Ventor" Reil, who, with this album, decides to return to the slaughter from which he had distanced himself. The second, more painful, is Frank "Blackfire", the former Sodom who, over the years, had been the protagonist of a truly commendable technical evolution, managing to leave behind the stumbling beginnings alongside the monolith Angelripper. Thus, it happens that good Gosdzik, probably also pushed by the musical shift that was taking shape under the guidance of the visionary Mille, steps aside for Tommy Vetterli (coming from the recently disbanded Coroner), in this writer's opinion one of the best metal guitarists of all time. No one can know how much compositional importance this addition held (although most claim that Vetterli limited himself to the "fine work," having arrived when Petrozza had already completed much of the songwriting), there is only certainty in how much "Outcast" enjoys many of the elements that had made the Coroner sound challenging but unforgettable, especially in their later period. Think of the volume games in "Ruin of Life", the hypnotic palm muting of "Whatever It May Take", the circular melodies of "A Better Tomorrow", or the dreamlike atmospheres of the solo interval in "Black Sunrise"…

But, just as had happened in Coroner with "Grin", in "Outcast" the subversion of genre norms ends up being the motive for the third and most striking victim of the creative wanderings of the Essen group: speed.

Thus, thirteen broken mirrors are born, swallowed to reflect what broods inside us, exposed fractures of images trapped in glass, disturbing and unsettling: thirteen mid tempos (or a little more…) where the music is stripped to the bone. Sadistically, to give us time and a way to reflect on what is happening… while getting stuck in it. Guitars, bass, and drums are essential, direct, sometimes minimal. The tracks end up being "square", linear in their structures (unless one wants to consider as an exception the nice acceleration in the finale of "Forever") and, on some occasions, rather predictable in their development. Yet the compositions lose nothing in terms of richness: "Outcast" is a compact, rough, and abrasive wall, but studded with gems, which builds its greatness precisely on the facets, the details, the touches of class, imperceptible at first listen.

Therefore, it is important to pay proper attention to the industrial deviations of "Whatever It May Take" and "Enemy Unseen" (reminiscences of the unjustly maligned "Renewal"), the overlapping voices in "Alive Again", the inconsolable despair of "Black Sunrise", in which Mille surprises the listener with clean, measured, and anguished vocals, and, again, the slow and unyielding advance of the title track (practically impossible to conceive as a Kreator-song just a couple of albums prior), or the vaguely epic-sounding chorus of "Stronger Than Before"… Many elements, indicators of a sound troubled by heterogeneous influences and experimentation, that contribute to creating cruel frescoes of inadequacy ("Leave This World Behind"), paranoia ("Phobia", an anthem of devastating effectiveness live), isolation ("Outcast"), and thirst for revenge ("Stronger Than Before"). A sweep of moods that emerge even better than in the past, because they are no longer suffocated by the swirl of rhythms and the whirling of double pedals.

Even nearly ten years after its release, "Outcast" is practically impossible to judge objectively: far from the more traditional and uncompromising sounds for which Petrozza and company became famous, but still deeply and inherently "extreme", it practically lends itself to all kinds of criticism, both from the most purist thrashers and from lovers of experimentation tout court. In my opinion (and, especially, listened to with more open and less uncompromising ears), it remains an excellent album, but not a masterpiece. The best pages, the lengthiest and most fascinating ones, end up being those where the band most demonstrates its courage and its desire to dare, revealing its less brutal and more distinctly dark side ("Black Sunrise" and "Outcast", above all), while the banality of some choices, mainly in the arrangement phase, especially within the most regular and immediate tracks ("Against The Rest" and "Leave This World Behind"), leaves one somewhat bewildered.

Beyond personal judgments, what truly matters to emphasize is that if "Outcast" is frightening, it is not because of its anger but because of its despair. Its aggressiveness is neither the overwhelming and minimalistic kind of the early years nor, for that matter, the furious and violent kind of "Renewal" and "Cause for Conflict". It is something intimate, because it is from the intimacy of the human soul that the nightmares dramatized in it originate.