The Qemists
Warrior Sound

I think a more eloquent presentation like that of The Qemists' new album doesn't exist: a bionic heart and the manifesto of the "Sound of Warriors," it's certainly out of place to prepare for listening to any essays on metaphysics or deep existential analyses. No, seriously, "unleash casino abbestia" would be the ideal subtitle for the new work of the English producer group, released after a troubled six-year gestation. The team's background was, after all, quite respectable, with two albums highly appreciated by the public and featuring, among other things, the participation of the group Enter Shikari. Anyway, I found myself in front of one of the most sincere and direct albums I've listened to in recent years, as thin as tissue paper and as loud as a hooligan army in a stadium, a sort of instant-consumption toy version of techno metal, anyway already molded by Liam Howlett and his Prodigy first, converted by bands like Pendulum later. From these, Qemists precisely retrieve the drum and bass rhythm as a sort of leitmotif matrix, but there are no shortages of strictly adrenaline-driven yet deliciously brainless detours.

Warrior Sound starts with the inevitable epic intro, however brief and brisk, there's immediately a desire to unleash drum machines, guitars, and rave synths with The Jungle and rap lines stylistically reminiscent of early Mike Shinoda and Linkin Park. In just a few minutes, it kicks off with a frantic dnb cleverly masked: the effect the group wants to achieve is that of a live performance, where the drummer and guitarists express themselves by adapting to the genre's dictates, with drum rolls, pauses, and wild restarts. Nothing new under the sun, we know it's computer-processed music, but the guitar riffs are still valid and really give the sensation of a true rock band. However, from Linkin Park, Qemists do not retrieve the more melodic and pseudo ballad aspects. Here, uncontrolled chaos reigns, and New Design and No More reiterate the concept by amplifying the vocal part, still a staple of the album, without giving up on rather catchy choruses, but the sauce is always represented by the furious amalgam of basses, energetic riffs, and dnb rhythm. Anger changes the cards in the table just a bit, calling on the Crossfade frontman for an interesting collaboration: here, the rhythmic structure adapts more to that of the rock formula, for a piece with clear pop undertones, also boasting a genuine (and catchy) refrain. The overall energy of a group of youngsters sweating, shouting, and making onlookers sweat remains. What a delight! Let it Burn shortens the distance even more with Linkin Park of Hybrid Theory, it's an extremely accessible techno pop rock, perhaps somewhat dated but inexplicably pleasant, as well as Requiem, which besides presenting the already known characteristics, bursts into an exciting segment of guitars and basses, which wouldn't look out of place in the intro of some popular video game, maybe a Need for Speed. The production is skillful and knows when to press the right buttons, the charged parts are almost always spot on. Rather disappointing, however, is the instrumental piece that closes the album, Lick the Lid, which left me rather indifferent, when it could have been the opportunity to showcase the group's undeniable production skills without the help of the various vocalists. Oh well.

In essence, Warrior Sound is nothing different than it seems, an almost moving act of sincerity in these times. A record entirely devoted to chaos and devoid of any depth or worries, as catchy as it is brazenly self-aware, it is the ideal soundtrack for a session of our favorite video game, or some moment where we feel the irresistible urge to express our boldest side. Nothing that hasn't been heard before (sometimes better, but also more pretentious), nothing capable of changing the world, but a record that works almost from start to finish and knows how to entertain the listener, not bad at all.