Rosetta
A Determinism Of Morality

Uh-oh! We've been informed that this review also appears (in whole or in part) on http://solouninsiemedibugie.blogspot.com/2010/10/release-revolve-renew.html

Three, four, five guitar lines intersect, merge, and unleash emotions as Rosetta's most cohesive album ever recorded unfolds proudly, immersed in the obsessive screams of Michael Armine (a medical professor by day and a microphone-manipulating murderer by night), in the jubilation of his most introspective and celestial lyrics.

Post-metal, post-hardcore, post-rock, post-punk, post of the post. Rosetta begins where Isis ends. They distort the material and reintroduce it in a mix of relentless effervescence, honing the melody and sounding a bit shoegaze, but shoegaze for astronauts nonetheless. A bit like Buried Inside, but here the atmospheres are decidedly less oppressive; the Canadians' typical funeral marches are replaced by dizzying soundtracks for actual space journeys. Basically, a heavy version of God Is An Astronaut, but with a vocalist who takes every opportunity to yell to the max.

The four from Philadelphia are synonymous with sound saturation and pedal boards constructed to experiment with the most delirious effects attributed to a single guitar, which is everything in their musical philosophy. David Grossmann and Bruce McMurtrie are craftsmen at the service of Matt Weed's genius, reinforcing and tempering the work of a guitar that is sometimes propulsive, sometimes essential, and communicates through its chameleonic impulses. Like in “Ayil,” the initial blow that dims and reignites in a surge of screams and slaps. “Blue Day For Croatoa” is (as “Tomet Nosce” was in Wake/Lift) the peace of mind before plummeting to hell: “Release,” “Revolve,” and “Renew,” somehow connected, with their grandiose finales and quieter moments, enchant and simultaneously torment, between a bass line (the true engine of the soft parts of the album) and a surprising clean voice.

The feeling is that Rosetta has yet to reveal all their cards. “A Determinism of Morality” stands as an intermediate milestone of absolute depth, thanks to its ability to grow with each listen and to conquer over the long haul, where too many competitors achieve the exact opposite result.

Each of its components, moving from a common base, diverges towards reserved and distant paths, each free to evolve as it pleases, aware only that it will eventually need to make its own path align with that of the others.

Everything else is pure freedom.