The year was 2005 when in Whitby, Ontario, 5 Canadian boys released what would become a cornerstone in their discography, a watershed between what came before and what would come later, and that milestone is called Kezia.
The album is nothing less than the natural progression of the musical path embarked on by the young guys, which skillfully combined the melodic HC component reminiscent of bands like Propagandhi and Thrice (already abundantly present in the EP "A Calculated Use Of Sound") with the prog metal of Sikth and Between The Buried And Me, a mix that would prove effective in the years to come.
It is necessary to highlight how the album represents a concept album, the plot of which revolves around the death sentence of a young girl named Kezia, the 10 tracks that make it up are in turn divided into 3 acts, in each of which we will see the story narrated from 3 different points of view, corresponding to the prison's chaplain, the prison guard, and Kezia herself, while the tenth track represents a moral retrospective by the band itself.
ACT I: PRISON CHAPLAIN
The album opens with "No Stars Over Bethlehem" which, with a single graceful piano note, and a slow and progressive crescendo prepares the listener for what is about to come.
What is presented is the musical translation of uncontrolled chaos, the guitar duo composed of Luke Hoskin and Tim Millar flaunts in the first minute of the opener the heaviness and compactness of the main riffs seasoned with acrobatic passages and stops and gos, while everything is supported by the solid rhythm section entrusted to Moe Carlson (drums) and Arif Mirabdolbaghi (bass).
After the first few seconds, the formless chaos begins to find its own definition which coincides with the beginning of the singing by Rody Walker, who is able to skillfully demonstrate all his abilities as a vocalist, passing multiple times from a high register to an unpredictable falsetto, and, on sporadic occasions, to screaming.
Regarding the structure, the piece appears quite distant from the traditional song standards, consequently, there is a total absence of choruses, as well as verses of regular metric length.
From the lyrical point of view, there is a complete evisceration of the chaplain's "psychological background" who describes life within a society in which God is dead (metaphorically) at the hands of men themselves.
Without even a moment of respite, the assault of the Canadians continues incessantly with "Heretics And Killers", a track that certainly presents a greater quantity of stops and gos, pauses, and, above all, riff changes compared to the previous one.
Walker's vocal performance appears quite eclectic and somewhat melodic thanks to the aid of perfectly contextualized vocal harmonies.
From the lyrical side, we see the figure of the chaplain deepened under a moral, human, and psychological aspect, a chaplain who, faced with the first storms (related to Kezia's sentence), sees the temple based on his own beliefs collapsing to pieces, which leads him to develop doubts regarding his faith.
Everything leads us to the next piece "Divinity Within", a third track that appears rudely toward the listener; the opening is entrusted to Luke Hoskin who engages in a series of acrobatic passages, then Millar will join him showing the perfect understanding of the duo capable of performing harmonizations able to give prestige to the track itself, the structure of which appears always decomposed and totally distant from any kind of "standard" convention.
On the other hand, the piece counts on an incredible work composed of pauses and restarts, and represents the last piece of the first act, in which the chaplain's psychology is thoroughly deepened, showing how much he harbors a deep fear at the idea that all his uncertainties could emerge because of Kezia herself.
Rody's graceful voice acts as closure by reciting a final verse "What will you say Kezia? What are your final words?", and finally, as if to mark the end of the act, a brief but intense piano composition entrusted to Hoskin himself presents a perfect interlude for the second act.
ACT II: THE PRISON GUARD
Just like with the opener, we find ourselves once again faced with a fade-in opening, but this time, it's "Bury The Hatchet", a track certainly more direct and aggressive that intends to present itself to the listener like a punch to the gut.
4 minutes alternated by fast riffs, time changes, and a vocal performance that passes from aggressive screaming to a more melodic section accompanied by backup growl; it is also necessary to highlight Arif's performance on the 4-string, who manages to stand out thanks to an impeccable performance, which will find its sublimation in the final breakdown.
Without even a second of pause, we find ourselves catapulted into "Nautical", a track that features a riff with more "punk" connotations seasoned by constant time changes, despite this the piece maintains a constant amount of bpm.
From the musical point of view, it is probably one of the few more "straightforward" pieces, although not sacrificing the technical aspect entirely.
From the lyrical aspect, both tracks provide a complete picture both from the psychological and social viewpoint of the second character in this work.
In "Bury The Hatchet" the prison guard is depicted as a sadistic and merciless individual, capable of delivering any sentence to death row inmates without being able to empathize with them, a situation primarily due to his role, which does not allow for any emotions to show.
In "Nautical" this figure is further deepened (just as happened with the chaplain in "Heretics And Killers"), also in the lyrics there are references to the alleged crime committed by Kezia in the verse:
"Which turned out to be the closest thing to a fashion trend
That's ever been bulletproof
Which turned out to be the closest thing to a fashion trend
That's ever been put on trial"
Which definitely leaves ample space for the listener to interpret the lyrics themselves, while from a psychological point of view, the prison guard begins to have second thoughts regarding the execution of the young woman, once more demonstrating how the most inherent fears of the characters emerge in situations of increased criticality.
These fears will have the opportunity to emerge in the form of doubt, remorse, and analysis of their own moral principles in "Blindfolds Aside", the piece that constitutes the anthem of the album, and above all, the first single extracted from it and a cornerstone in the band's live set.
The opening is entrusted to some lightning riffs that then leave space for an HC-tinged progression by Hoskin, to which the whole band will subsequently join, Walker will later join with an incredible vocal performance, capable of allowing the listener to empathize with the dramatic context of the prison guard.
The track is one of the best compositions on the album, and as usual, it is sustained by numerous riffs, even interspersed by a very brief acoustic break.
The band's performance is incredible, each member manages to demonstrate their qualities, particularly Moe Carlson highlights his skills behind the drum kit in one of his best performances, moreover, the piece presents some elements that differentiate it from the previous tracks, such as the presence of a solo always by Hoskin.
Another element to highlight is the stop halfway through the track where the guitar duo has the chance to flaunt a sublime harmonization that preludes an almost solo moment of Walker accompanied by Arif's bass performing tapping alone.
The tension rises thanks to the young vocalist who recites the line:
"Five soldiers forever sedated with the,"No one's responsible" psychological drama of our social justice dribble".
A tension that will grow until it brings the piece towards the longed-for finale accompanied by the handclaps that act as a prelude to the dramatic closure of the track.
Lyrically we can observe a drastic change on the part of the prison guard, who, after receiving the order to carry out the execution begins to waver, especially when faced with his own moral principles, a prison guard who considers himself blindfolded, and Kezia's life will only depend on his decision, remove the blindfold obstructing his sight, or fire on the victim?
An acoustic outro sweetly accompanied by the gentle voice of guest vocalist Jadea Kelly (vocally portraying the role of Kezia) and supported (an octave lower) by Walker's own voice, it will serve as a preamble to what will be the third and final act.
ACT III: KEZIA
A single pickscrap introduces us to the sixth track "She Who Mars The Skin Of Gods", which, in the vein of the previous one, does not intend to show any hint of slowing down, instead, it unravels in its rapid progress of odd times seasoned with an excellent performance by the guitar duo that once again proves to be in good shape.
Furthermore, always towards the end, we once again have an appearance of the young Jadea Kelly to accompany Walker's vocal performance.
The piece introduces us to the figure of Kezia, sowing once more clues about what crime may have been committed by the young woman, the same girl who, in the lyrics, is shown to be influenced by the maternal ideology imprinted on what represent the canons of current "feminism", a strong and determined maternal figure that will serve as an inspiration for Kezia herself, and that will be her comfort during the night before her execution.
The seventh track "Turn Soonest To The Sea" opens proceedings in an abrupt manner, demonstrating the highest level of technicality present in the band's compositions, in fact, the piece is sustained by the acrobatic feats of Hoskin and Millar who always show themselves very skilled at weaving complex guitar tapestries.
On the other hand, the rhythm section is no less, always proving to be functional, furthermore, Arif has the opportunity to show how influential his bass can be in the overall sound, especially if accompanied by Moe Carlson's drums, which revolve around numerous time changes during the 6-minute duration of the composition.
Walker's performance is among the most melodic on the album itself, more akin to a vocal performance with a "core" aftertaste, a genre that was impetuously breaking into the music market at the time, and of which the band suffered (albeit minimally) the influence.
Supporting this thesis is the breakdown positioned halfway through the track, which will act as a watershed ready to lead us to the conclusion, entrusted primarily to a nearly whispered verse, and which will explode in the subsequent seconds into the incredibly melodic final chorus with an equally "core" flavor:
"Maybe someday when this bloody skull has dried I’ll know our city is in ruins when the greatest source of pride is a monument of dicks and ribs and gender crowns we wore
Where underneath, a plaque will read,
A plaque will read: "No woman is a wh
Tracklist and Lyrics
02 Divinity Within (04:32)
This morning there are no rods or staffs
To comfort you dressed as a target
As you amble in your chains and stumble through
The corridors that lead to our makeshift valley of death
In the prison's backyard
where you'll give us your final breath
Last night I saw you dine with lovers and human tears
But glanced at me in ways
that brought to life my sleeping fears
That today you'll bite my neck
Today you'll bite my neck
That today you'll bite my neck
Today you'll bite my neck
Today you'll bite my neck
Today you'll bite my neck
That today you'll bite my neck
Today you'll bite my neck... [continues in the background]
and peel away the aging skin
Expose this lifeless body and the void
Divinity within (I watch my temple fall to pieces)
Divinity within (I watch my temple fall to pieces)
So tell me when I've read you your rights
When the guns are in their place
When your crime no longer seems absurd
When your crime's no longer absurd
What will you say
when we ask you what are your final words?
When your crime's no longer absurd
What will you, what will you say, Kezia,
when we ask what are your final words?
what are your final words?
03 Nautical (02:57)
The day that civil glory dismembered my civility
I could have parted ribs and flesh like a different kind of Red Sea
Drowned the ancient east in western progress
Custom and the least of all our pride and sentiments
Which turned out to be the closest thing to a fashion trend
That's ever been put on trial
Which turned out to be the closest thing to a fashion trend
That's ever been put on trial
The rest was cast off as denial of statehood and mastery;
The ultimate form of treason is the treacherous use of reason
Employed by the bastard sons of American fore-fathers who keep this fire burning
With the flesh of their would-be American daughters, daughters, daughters, daughters!!
What will happen to our children when the least of us pass on?
Us who fought the monsters of our country's crowded closet
Us who dropped the bombs on goodness when we saw it wasn't flawless
Us whose youthful life was hostage to what harm did
Us who fought the hardest to be swept under the carpet
And I'm still a cigarette softly smoking on the edge of a metal ashtray
I begged this place to let me burn, and it whispered, "burn away"
04 Blindfolds Aside (05:58)
We woke up as men but tonight we'll sleep as killers
As we break the cryptic morning with a bullet and a prayer
The steel never seemed more cold and agile than now
And life never seems less vital and fragile
With a heart that's beating louder than my own
I watch a girl they call Kezia
I watch a woman that I know
My hopes and my own future blindfolded
To atone for a sin I didn't care for, but a sin that paid my debts
A sin that fed my children and burned my smiles and cigarettes
And no one ever said that hope would be so beautiful
And no one ever said I'd have to pull the trigger on her
I can't even still her trembling hands
that were locked up by the dutiful and the obligated;
Five soldiers forever sedated with the, "No one's responsible"
psychological drama of our social justice dribble, dribble, dribble
Her tiny steps tell lies about the choice I have to make;
(Resurrect a static lifetime starve to death my own mistakes)
Pull the screaming trigger and watch your carcass bleed me dry
Or drop the gun and try to shake away the blindfold from your eyes?
Drop the gun, drop the gun, drop the gun, drop the gun.
Sin I didn't care for, but a sin that paid my debts
A sin that fed my children and burned my smiles and cigarettes
Sin I didn't care for, but a sin that paid my debts
A sin that fed my children and burned my smiles and cigarettes
06 Bury the Hatchet (03:23)
Place your justice in my palm and then I'll make fist
Punch your grimaced face until every knuckle breaks
And bleeds in resistance to my sidewalk painting
A mangled body twitching and regaining consciousness and closure
Attempting composure before a bullet in the mouth answers the questions of exposure
And God of Sunday School façades and paycheques to validate the time I served abroad
It all means nothing if I forget why I'm here
To serve and protect my fist over fist mind under matter career
That's why a man sounds kind of funny when he falls to his knees
With his hand on his throat while he begs you to please spare his life
While I explain the hardest of bodies dulls the softest of knives
Then I hold up his head and carve X's in his eyes
I swear I have compassion I've just been trained to disregard the prisoner's life
Because I am the prison guard
08 Heretics & Killers (03:09)
They called me the man with the blood of Christ honesty
But tonight I drink with heathens and our, our finest blasphemies
In wine there's truth but in silence there's surrender
A screaming for the silence in stunned suspicious terror
Built a temple in my life and used God to seal the pillars
After twenty years of fighting young heretics and killers
I watch my temple fall to pieces at the first signs of oncoming weather
Fell to my knees like Jesus in the cave, knew I would die
But my lips could only say "I'm not your son, so why have you forsaken me?"
There's a hole in my heart but it just makes me unholy
Crucified that night and walked away with alter-egos
Like the prison priest who preached his dead and buried gospel
With my faith in ruins my duty still breathes strong
I'm a parrot in a cage saying prayers to belong to a textbook
Of my crying, lying, dying history; a time so full of life that I was anything but me
10 A Plateful of Our Dead (04:29)
Don't ever ask us to define our morals
Sometimes when fundamentals meet teenage heartbreak
Some of us are all of us; half-selves that love whole hopes
And hara-kiri heartbreak
There's almost nothing worse than never being real
Strained voices crying wolf when nobody can hear
If I had a gun I'd pump your ethics full of lead
If I believed in meat I'd eat a plateful of our dead
There's merit in construction when it's done with your own hands
There's beauty in destruction, resurrection, another chance
There's a you and I in union but just an I in my beliefs
There's a crashing plane with a banner that reads everyone's naïve
The only proof that I have that we shot and killed this horse
Is the sounds of whips on flesh and a bleeding heart remorse
When I'm In this state of reflection and you hand me whips
And two by fours I could never bring them down and beat the same horse as before
I'd rather kill a stupid flower and spread its seeds around
Until a garden with our bullet-laden morals will be found
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