Review by Matt Miller
Winter is finally getting the old Hau Ruck and I’m trying to regroup and relax after a trying series of months. With my hands beginning to match the hue of my own body instead of that of a smurf I ought not to feel so pedantic…but…lets say I have spring fever after a very long winter and no flowers have sprung. Five.Bolt.Main’s debut Venting excels in the basics of musicianship, but…if I may vent…falls short with some of the fine points of songwriting in the worst places, defeating the album concept as a whole. The confused nature of the first 3 tracks and the thunk of final tracks flatten the serpentine movement of those in the middle.
“The Gift” opens the vents letting in some moderately fresh air. Hey, it’s a band that sounds kind of like other hard rock bands, but is clearly different. There’s a nice balance in the scream/sing vocals with prevalence on the singing. The bass guitar complements the guitar nicely. It’s not overpowering, but listeners will hear much more than accessory use that often traps new hard rock bands that tend to throw a clicky bassline into the forefront with one of those wicked fast speed metal bass solos \m/!!! Thankfully this album doesn’t do that, and the bass guitar is probably the most effective instrument on the album.
The head/foot/ass movement that captures listeners in the intro track will hold them halfway through “Pathetic” until an anticlimactic breakdown. Chanted verses detail various body parts and organs (don’t worry, nothing perverse) and creative interpretations of their functions in a striking contrast to the decidedly straightforward accusation of pathos of ‘you’ in the chorus. The format of the anticlimax marks a pleasant contrast, but I just don’t know what lines like the skin is the jacket you were sold, have to do with this pathetic person who complains a lot.
Actually, that line in particular just reminds me of the Aelfinn and Eelfinn, known respectively in the Wheel of Time novels as soothsaying serpent-people and wish-granting fox-folk, who both happen to wear fashionable leathers made of human skin. So as not to digress (hey it’s what it made me think of…stream of consciousness folks), these bother me on a musical level as part of a larger issue with the album. The idea of contrast is essential to great songs and albums, but it has to fit perfectly for the song.
To some degree contrast between songs has to make sense thematically. Reflecting the lyrical disparity within “Pathetic,” up until this point the more abstract lyrics don’t fit convincingly within the album as a whole, although the string of tracks from 4 to 10 establish an intermediate level of cohesion. “Broken Compass” is marked out as the first of the slower songs on Venting, but this track retrieves waning listener interest with far more than the simple shock of a slow pace. Threaded by a relatively swift and complicated bass guitar rhythm (later mimicked with the heavier edge of the guitar), this song is the first to diverge completely from the simple concept of Venting, challenging listeners to draw a parallel from a broken compass to feelings of confusion and frustration.
“What You Are” shifts back into a decidedly heavy feel, but sets off the previously drab, riffy weight of heavy guitars by maintaining a bit of the intricacy in rhythm of the previous track. “Slip” and “Breathing” venture back into simplicity, but never fully before coming to the most musically poignant song on the album, “Seems to be Fine.” Drums and guitars form a haunting slow paced rhythm that kindles a traveling vocal range, emphasizing the use of vocals as an instrument rather than a simple method of delivery for the lyrics.
“Life of Mine” and “Descending” neatly wrap up the substance of the album, while the final two tracks undo a bit of the mid-album motion in another spell of lackluster. “Bid Farewell” even completely unravels in a sortof drum solo before staggering to an ending with the feeling of dead weight. Not the ideal way to end an album. Venting moves like a dragon…with water in the head and a tail made of lead, pulling the body of the album apart into somewhat of a confusing scatter-plot of moods.