So where IS this light if everything on the record seems so bleak? If you listen closely to songs such as “Arise Above the Oppression”, the chant of “rise above” represents a demonstrative fist, pleading that oppression has no place in society. The band questions our modern life, and the future at that. As many of our ’60s rock luminaries - Janis Joplin, Dylan, Patti Smith - along with various punk breeds, Fear Factory put their guts on the line. The chords ride parallel to the dark cry of vocalist Burton Bell, who screams for the men and women of concrete, the blue-collar lifestyle that sometimes leaves torn jeans and ripped souls. Then there’s “Concrete” where in similar fashion, a barrage of slow growls, mangy electrics and speed drums take hold though this particular track champions two to three daunting chords, much like in Black Sabbath’s Paranoid. It’s all a sympathetic nod towards the little man, the poor slob who comes home from a day at the factory with nothing to show but greasy fingernails and asbestos poisoning. Corporate twits don’t stand a chance against its unruly angst, where fierce riffs pound through and through amongst lawnmower guitar. Just take a listen to “Dragged Down by the Weight of Existence”. Concrete treads through the hatred of conservative, corporate structure while also playing the optimist.Īnd to find this yellow brick road, one must blaze through an onslaught of hate-bred atmosphere and industrial mutiny. But never, at least to this critic, did these groups ever think about transcending the forever-gloom aesthetic. He/She can talk endlessly about Black Sabbath changing the face of rock with its stark, key of E originality. A true metal head can talk all day about which Morbid Angel album spews more misery, Domination or Blessed Are the Sick. Roadrunner’s A& R honcho Monte Conner comments in a liner note, “Whether Fear Factory invented this technique or not, they were certainly the first band to truly popularize it.” But why do fans find the music to be so special, so alive? And should we really give shit? Then it hit me. Coarse guitar drives melding with techno drones and yes, melody, make up a death template few bands of this genre were accustomed to that is until the ’90s. The foursome’s name was familiar, of course, as was their impact on rock. For all you death-metal mongers, this is first Fear Factory record I have ever heard.
In a world where honesty is less than supreme, I’ve decided to add a little truth.