SikTh
Death Of A Dead Day

THE REVIEW

If before the Sikth's eye focused on nature, humanizing it, dressing it with poison and regrets, ready to explode at any moment against mankind, now the lens has zoomed in on cities, streets, information, culture, myths, and fears. Fog and sinking ships. Everything that is “human” provokes an ever-growing anger in the five Englishmen from Watford (Hertfordshire).

With “Death Of A Dead Day” (2006 @ Bieler Bros.) the guys abandon that sometimes ironic and irreverent attitude to become more serious and angry. No more talking trees, dialogues between forest elves, and other oddities (certain sound images from their first work would have been perfect for Tolkien's Ents' march). Here, they take to the streets to fight against another forest, of concrete. “Bland Street Bloom”, the first single, is one of the most powerful and well-played pieces the group has ever presented. A frantic rhythm that gives you a breather only in the very syncopated chorus. Here, you see the most genuine Sikth.

What immediately stands out is the decisive lowering of the pitch of the entire work. Human evils have exhausted Sikth to such an extent that they’ve let them get the best of them. The mood is decidedly darker and oppressive, and the album's title is absolutely indicative of the feeling of “death inside.” A bass and drums that leave no escape, imprisoning you in a tangle of metal from which it's truly difficult to extricate yourself. Few lights are seen amid walls, road signs, and skyscrapers. The duo vocal dynamics of the debut album have almost disappeared. The two singers have reduced their range in interpreting the lyrics, resulting in much more uniform and therefore less entertaining. The most perplexing thing is the insertion of two-voice choirs (“Summer Rain”), absolutely absent in the first work, which would well fit in a Punk album by NoFx, but in a “metal-driven” album, they undermine the flow's dynamics. They have moved to a much more monolithic style, at the expense of the experimentation and schizophrenia that had brought them closer to Dillinger Escape Plan or the more twisted Slipknot (“Tattered And Torn”).

In the general pounding of the first tracks, the engaging melody of “In This Light” stands out, where the hope of an imperishable light (“Like it won't ever rain here, In this light, In this light”) is overshadowed by the moody guitar changes (“Let me sit right there, Sail, As the water lays under our sky”). But it's just a moment before “Sanguine Seas Of Bigotry”, placed in the middle of the album, grabs you by the ears and throws you back into chaos. The double pedal slaps you and puts you back in front of reality.

The songs run quite smoothly but a certain bitterness remains and it is sometimes very difficult to distinguish them from one another. The group seems imprisoned within four walls while watching from the fogged-up window the modern vegetation writhing on itself, without understanding what is what. We are left with few moments of broad breath like the passionate “Where Do We Fall?” which partially recalls “The Peep Show” from the first album, and the beautiful “When The Moment’s Gone” where the two voices, finally complementary, engage in an excruciating chorus. The technique is truly impressive as one would expect from such musicians, but a certain compositional fatigue afflicts the entire work. Not surprisingly, after the release of this album, the group will disband to allow the two singers, Mike Goodman and Justin Hill, to pursue solo projects.

In conclusion, an album half-successful with much technicism and few ideas. A real shame for a band that had so much promise but perhaps couldn’t withstand its own internal malaise.