When I came across this I thought: "Ah! Norwegian metal!" expecting, in the best traditions of Darkthrone, Mayhem, Burzum and Emperor, sulphurous, church-burning BLACK metal. After all, this is what Norway does best (with the possible exception of hiding under bridges and frightening small children).
This, however, is US thrash. Limpbizkitsville. Aimed almost exclusively at teenage males (their hilariously poorly translated press release makes this clear, stating that "this band kicks your bollocks", soo... sorry girls. They also compare their sound to "being run over by a steamroller" when in fact a milk float or - at best - a Vauxhall Viva would be a more accurate analogy), a demographic that no doubt consumes this product with moshing alacrity in the belief that STF's regulation heads-down flailings constitute something that is (in musical terms) "heavy", when in fact it is entirely dependant on volume for its impact. Let's face it, a sewing machine sounds pretty fierce at 110 dBs.
Lyrically, the usual themes are explored: introspection, self-loathing and need of the "I love you, not me" (thank you the Birthday Party) persuasion.
Wilting-flower, self-absorbed maudlin, heavily marinated in testosterone and fuzz guitar lest sensitive boy's machismo slips.
Nothing unusual there then, until we come across the first of a number of references our warrior poet makes to "the word of God" and his "faith in Jesus Christ". Yes, our hero is a Christian. So what of the deadly sin of pride he commits when he wriggles into those jeans? And what of wrath? Silence the Foe? What would the baby Jesus in his little manger be thinking?
A great deal of the message of this is lost in translation, which is a dreadful shame, when with a little effort it could all be lost in translation.
The CD comes (oh, lucky me...) as a "multimedia package"(sic) with a couple of DVD clips thrown in, which predictably don't work. Consult the small print and you need an "up and running computer". As opposed to a broken one, I presume. A few minutes' faffing later and I am rewarded (?) with two vids, the first a fairly standard "band rocking out without an audience" type thing (well produced though: slick, money has been spent); the second, a "higher concept" effort, "Playing With The Old Me".
The "Sin City" references the latter begins with sets a tone the video simply fails to keep up with. This is awful. I want to slap their sullen little faces. Here we get the band approached by "a big time producer" (you'll be lucky, ducky) who proffers a contract, which stipulates "no musical talent whatsoever".
Incensed, one of our cherub-faced sextet smacks him around the face with a guitar. (Good analogy for the levels of subtlety this band operates on). Does this mean they consider themselves a talent? Presumably this video's narrative represents their struggle to maintain artistic integrity within a shallow and capricious entertainment industry. The poor dears.
From hereon in it just gets worse, descending into some jerk weed adolescent Columbine fantasy. They wield guns, fake blood is spilled, a syringe (BOO!) appears for some gravitas. An apple, the "Adam's bite" providing a biblical reference for some spurious depth.
The last straw was a slow-mo "Reservoir Dogs" type shot of the band walking towards the camera, trying to look threatening. I lose patience and switch off.
Yea, verily; the Devil has all the best tunes.
Silence The Foe offical website
Silence The Foe on myspace
