My first true exposure to metal didn’t come until my early 20s. I owe it all to Christian acts like Zao and Living Sacrifice, as well as the early ‘00s third-wave emo acts such as Thursday and Thrice. So needless to say, my tastes in the genre are somewhat unique.
And yes – I’m fully aware that those touchpoints aren’t actually “metal” in the traditional sense. But they did help me to understand that the genre could be interesting and compelling. Before that, my opinions centered around Metallica’s 1991 self-titled album, as the record’s five singles received lots of attention on terrestrial rock radio stations. I also know now that the Black Album is more heavy metal than the thrash of their earlier years.
In short, I’m not a purist. I like what I like, and the normal stuff doesn’t interest me in the slightest. I’m not awed by technical proficiency or over-the-top theatrics. I prefer bands that want to say something different or push beyond the boundaries of what constituted “metal.”
By all means, give me all the flash and wizardry you can muster. But at least try to muster up an original thought.
Lo and behold – like the heavens finally opening to deliver a bit of relief in the shitty year that is 2020, SUMAC droppen May You Be Held into my arms. Released on Thrill Jockey, this five-song project delivers nearly 60 minutes of jaw-dropping aural dread – and it is spectacular.
SUMAC’s May You Be Held is equal parts free-jazz, drone, and postmodern orchestral, it’s experimental metal that creates catharsis from chaos. And I’m here for it.
Call me a wimp or a phony, but I prefer my metal to have clarity and definition in the distortion. I’m not talking about sanding off the rough edges from recordings, but I despise metal relying on sub-par production to sound tough. SUMAC obviously shares such sentiments because these songs sound superb. I can hear every swoosh of guitar feedback, each terrifying rumble of bass, and a kick-drum hitting you like a gut-punch.
I would be remiss if I didn’t pay special honor to Aaron Turner’s majestic and mighty growl. Again, I’m a weird metal fan in that I don’t especially care what the lyrics are. I prefer “Cookie Monster” vocals acting more like an additional instrument injecting an extra level of intimidation to the music. And Turner delivers exactly what I need and want.
“A Prayer for Your Path” opens May You Be Held with five-and-a-half minutes of dissonant feedback, squawks, and foreboding noise. Think of it as a meditative overture, or an ambient preamble packed with menacing soundscapes. The title track then kicks in, as Turner’s powerful voice guides the listener through shifts in meter, timber, and time signature. Clocking in at nearly 20 minutes, this strong and layered tune never sits still, despite when locked into a kinetic groove.
As “You May Be Held” contains enough movement to be a single-track EP on its own, angst without cliche is the name of the game.
With “The Iron Chair,” the band treats the listener to eight minutes of buzzsaw guitars and clamoring drums. It’s intense free-jazz drenched with piercing noise and primal screaming that evinces a discordant, tribal feel.
On “Consumed,” disorienting feedback merges with an almost Krautrock sensibility to forge a dirge or funeral march vibe. By layering some fantastic riffage – the project’s sole nod to traditional metal – there’s forward motion instead of wallowing in misery. The nine-minute “Laughter and Silence” closes the album, as the band provides a spacey and elegiac denouement bringing the listener full circle.
To my humble ears, May You Be Held feels like a song cycle, or at the very least, a complete musical thought. Melodic ideas and motifs appear, flare-up, disappear, and then reappear later in slightly tweaked formats giving the project a circuitous orientation. But again – that’s just my impression of this fantastic album. The songs flow into each other to create a magnificent whole even as the foreboding melange of sounds and musical ideas threaten to burst apart at the seams.