Beecher - This Elegy, HisAutopsy

Fri 2nd Sep, 2005 in Music Reviews

Within all realms of music, it appears that the unfortunate rule that for every endeavour that innovates and twists the definitions of their form there then arise a legion of tedious clones. By and large their heads bang in the right place Рbut the sound becomes a doleful parade of clich̩s and posturing.

So too with metalcore – wherein the innovations and poignant belligerence of bands such as Coalesce and Converge become stale overused rifferama. Which is why it is so gratifying to come across an album such as Beecher’s This Elegy, His Autopsy. A work that is wily and diverse whilst never lessening its viciousness and power. This release is the Mancunion quintet’s sophomore long player, and their first for infamous label Earache.

Doubtless at first listen one can detect the bands influences, but Beecher take the inspiration as a starting point rather than a formula to slavishly emulate. The opening of the album introduces familiar tropes “Ah yes – jagged and aggressive guitars, guttural and blistered vocals, I know where this is going…” But then the songs slip from your self-satisfied grasp. Songs twist and turn in unexpected forms, changing time and tempo with a disarming grace. Each radical gear change and about-turn is always in harmony with the intent of the music. Beecher never degenerate into the sort of clinical onanism that sometimes befalls a group attempting to progress outside of the normal strictures of hardcore.
The playing is superb and tight – yet their precision is dedicated to the sake of the sound rather than a demonstration of how they can play diatonic solos in 13/9 time signature. The sound moves quickly and strikes decisively, like a witty pugilist. Second-guessing your assumptions. The ability of the band is further evident in the intriguing curveballs thrown to the listener. Diversity here serves a range of emotional experience, rather than some cheap bauble of novelty to distract from the lack of effort. Not Guilty slows the assault to a menacing crawl, the slow tempo allowing the sound to reverberate and swell – shards of guitar surrounding the listener in a claustrophobic cell – the foreboding then transforms into something more mysterious as guitars slow to pure tones, and harmonic feedback swells as the music evolves from brutal to hypnotic.

Likewise the band seem to recognise that vitriol and noise aren’t the only way to create effective art – witness the deadpan humour of ”...And on the day he became a human plumb line”, underpinned by an asymmetrical melody, a story reminiscent of the mordant comedy of John Cale. At times the music ascends to the chaos and becomes gout of fiery noise as on the album’s closer Reach Up To The Gods. The production by Kurt Ballou of Converge gives all elements of the band an equal amount of space – the warm, analogue tone dispenses with conceptual trickery – the experience as if standing in the middle of the group rather than viewing them on some far away stadium stage. With This Elegy, His Autopsy Beecher have created a work that takes elements too often redolent of the dull and uninspired, and by inspired juxtaposition and intelligence produced something exciting and potent.