MADELEINE: Earth Cry Via Bridge The Gap Download | Stream Out Now More than just the sum of its collaborative parts, Madeleine has made the summer EP du jour, a balancing act of heartfelt emotion and divine musicianship, equally at home in the club, in the car, or standing on the edge of a burning […]
The post MADELEINE: Earth Cry – EP Review appeared first on Louder Than War.
Arriving in the spring of 1998, as Girl Power shot dayglo beams across the cultural landscape, and the Union flag-draped dream of Britpop died a slow, ugly death, Massive Attack’s prescient third album stood out like the towering black monolith from Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey. Foreboding and bleak, yet alien and beautiful, Mezzanine looked, felt and sounded like nothing that had come before. It barely even resembled the work of Massive Attack – at least not as the world had come to know them. That, as Robert Del Naja (the real name of graffiti artist-turned sprechgesang-rapper 3D), the record’s chief creative force explains, was entirely intentional.
“It was a chrysalis moment,” he told Wallpaper* in 2018. “We were trying to emerge as something different. We had gone through that whole ‘90s thing of being the new kids on the block and becoming part of this movement called trip-hop, which was like a small satellite feeding off Britpop. And none of us felt a part of that. We just wanted to firmly establish our own identity.”
While artists like Sneaker Pimps and Morcheeba enjoyed success by riding trip-hop’s coattails, Del Naja felt the walls closing in. He bristled at the thought of his band being reductively pigeonholed as “coffee table music”. The febrile concoction of dub, soul, funk and hip-hop that characterised Massive Attack’s arrival on Blue Lines (1991) and Protection (1994), had been co-opted, he believed. Serving up more of the same would surely spell the end of the band. Little did he know that in ripping up the rulebook to reclaim a sense of creative agency, they’d come perilously close to imploding regardless. So much so, that by the end of the process the group’s core trio of Del Naja, Andrew Vowles (stage name: Mushroom) and Grant Marshall (aka Daddy G) couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as one another.
“I love D, he’s like a brother, but he’s an argumentative bastard, and he’ll run rings around people if they’re not switched on,” says co-producer and engineer Neil Davidge, the other driving force and one true constant throughout the process of making Mezzanine.
“There was a lot that went into making that album,” he told Headliner. “It took several years. There was a lot of band in-fighting, and a lot of working long hours trying to pull it together and to make it happen. There was also a lot of protecting people’s integrity.”
To avoid potential clashes or conflict, the former Wild Bunch brothers wrote their parts separately. Tensions became so extreme that the band’s manager Marc Picken had to text Davidge, notifying him when one member wanted to use their Christchurch Studios base. Meaning someone else had to clear off. Somehow, the fragile peace of this arrangement worked.
“I think it actually helped give the album energy and momentum,” the de facto peacekeeper reasons. “I definitely used [the arguments] as fuel for getting things done. It’s part of what makes music really connect with other people: the fact that it’s inspired by life. We’re creating music that connects to those emotions that we feel in life. That’s the real magic.”
But before there was magic, there were mere ingredients. Several years’ worth of them. At first Del Naja had a vision of the songs forming a concept album, drawing influence from his teenage love of post-punk acts like Wire, Public Image Ltd, and fellow Bristolians, The Pop Group. “Are we a fucking punk band now?” an apparently less-than-enamoured Vowles protested. The band even recorded a cover of Gang Of Four’s Damaged Goods, using that as the record’s working title before eventually scrapping the idea.
One day, a box of Bibles arrived at the studio, without an origin address or sender. But inside the package was a note that ominously read, “Read these and you shall be enlightened.”
Acknowledging the fractious atmosphere in the camp, management wisely booked a secondary studio in a holiday cottage in Cornwall. Del Naja and guitarist Angelo Bruschini, however, almost died while exploring a cave during a break in recording, escaping just before the tide filled it and trapped them inside.
“I looked at Angelo and thought, ‘This will make the third page of the Bristol Evening Post: Men Die In Caving Tragedy,’” he jokingly recalled to Mojo in 1998.
Despite the near-death experiences, surrounding dramas and dysfunction, not to mention the endlessly protracted sessions, a record of iconic grandeur emerged. Unsurprisingly, its pioneering sense of invention was matched all the way by its darkness.
Opening track Angel (a loose reworking of vocalist Horace Andy’s own 1973 song You Are My Angel) virtually slithers through the stereo speakers, playing out like a panic attack coming on. An unerring menace reveals itself as the sounds roll in like clouds, building to a torrential force as it crescendos in a hail of heavy beats and guitars.
Listen closely and you’ll hear the ‘tick, tick, tick’ of The Cure’s 10:15 Saturday Night and the fills from Led Zep’s When The Levee Breaks on Man Next Door (itself a reinterpretation of John Holt’s I’ve Got To Get Away). Elsewhere, Inertia Creeps smothers with an uncomfortably claustrophobic intensity, which mercifully gives way to the loungy zen of Exchange.
Lead single Risingson samples The Velvet Underground’s I Found A Reason and perfectly captures the griminess of 3am, powder-fuelled paranoia. ‘I’ve seen you go down to a cold mirror/It’s the way you go down to the men’s room sink,’ Del Naja hisses, before Marshall icily intones, ‘Every time we grind, you know we severed lines’.
There’s an abundance of lyrical beauty on Mezzanine, too. That’s most poignant on the timeless Teardrop, opening with ‘Love, love is a verb/Love is a doing word’ and littered with the rich poetic imagery of ‘black flowers blossom’ and ‘teardrops on the fire’. The soprano delivery is made all the more affecting by the knowledge that Cocteau Twins vocalist Liz Fraser – famously described by one journalist as “the voice of God” – learned of her ex-partner Jeff Buckley’s tragic passing on May 29, 1997, the very day she was recording her contribution.
“That was so weird,” she later confided in The Guardian. “I’d got letters out and I was thinking about him. That song’s kind of about him – that’s how it feels to me anyway.”
The disquieting Walter Stern-directed video gave the track a whole new dimension and emotional gut-punch, depicting an animatronic foetus singing along inside the womb. Accepting an MTV Award for it later, Del Naja caused a stir by refusing to shake hands with Sarah Ferguson, the Duchess Of York. “Someone’s having a fucking laugh, aren’t they?” he spat, exasperated by the apparent scheduling stitch-up.
Someone definitely not having a laugh, though, was Vowles. It was that song which put the mockers on their collective working relationship, in fact. Feeling particularly close to the early demo version (then named No Don’t) Vowles desperately wanted Madonna to sing on it, revisiting their 1995 crossover on the Marvin Gaye tribute I Want You. The first anyone else seemingly knew of this potential collaboration was when the pop star’s management got in touch, keen to do it, but checking if the group’s interest was legit. As history attests, everyone else won the battle and the resultant awkwardness was never really resolved.
“At the time,” Marshall told Q magazine, “it seemed like an act of treachery.”
“Teardrop really was that final nail in the coffin,” Davidge confirmed. “It was pretty controversial.”
Soon, the trio were doing interviews to promote the album separately, and not long after the release tour, Vowles called it quits. Marshall eventually followed, but returned to the fold again in 2005.
Despite the upheaval, Massive Attack have continued to make glorious sounds that push boundaries ever since, but have rarely reached the heights attained on their two million-selling third album. It hit the number one spot on the UK album chart, and broke the band in the US, yet those achievements almost feel like footnotes in retrospect. But even in live celebration of the record back then, Del Naja was determined not to make it a nostalgia exercise.
“You’re not trying to relive Mezzanine,” he insisted to The New York Times. “Mezzanine was about that space where things weren’t real. For me, it’s the limbo between the night and the day. And now it’s about the same thing in a way, the limbo between what is real and what isn’t real. You’re not trying to conjure up 1998 — it’s not like a séance.”
That statement holds true. And the enduring spirit of Mezzanine still speaks for itself.
Look, I get it: A.I. is here and no one remembers where we put the lid to Pandora’s Box. Regardless of your stance on this divisive (?) topic, the use of A.I. for a band as established as Galneryus via a label as pervasive as Warner is flat-out lazy, unimaginative and cheap. Plus, this particular example happens to be bad Bad BAD, even by typical A.I. standards. I hope the fault lies with the label alone, but no band that works tirelessly on their art should be okay with this level of neglect. If the A.I. patrons / apologists are really so proud of what these systems are capable of within the arts, why is its use so often hidden / anonymous? Please do better.
If you’ve spent any significant amount of time with Japan’s preeminent speed / power / progressive valiants Galneryus, you understand that their career can be broken into two distinct eras: The early Yama-B years, where Masahiro ‘Yama-B’ Yamaguchi’s gravelly voice synched up perfectly with the band’s more primeval approach to explosive neoclassical power (first five albums from 2003-2008); and the the Sho years, where Masatoshi ‘Sho’ Ono—an already proven J-pop star—swooped in after Yama-B’s departure to further lift the band’s more refined, progressive and symphonic face to new and magnificent heights (every album from 2010’s Resurrection forward).
Inside those two distinct eras, however, I would say there is another notable milestone that marked a fairly early turning point for the band, and that milestone occurred in and around 2010 when, along with the arrival of Sho, the songwriting duties shifted from a more “jamming together to write songs” format to having founding member / shred-lord Syu and steadfast keyboardist Yuhki write everything moving forward (with the latter typically penning about two songs per release.) Now, is that such a big deal when the chief architect happens to be capable of this level of shred?
No, it’s really not, as evidenced by the fact that the duo’s stretch as principal songwriters has yielded many of our absolute favorite Galneryus records, my personal fave being their first true concept album in 2015’s raging Under the Force of Courage.
Where things start to get a little tricky, though, is when the years continue to pass, the releases start to stack, and the band never even opts to venture outside of the very same producer for every single album. OCD much? (Said the fellow who always makes a point of stopping the microwave with 7 seconds left.)
Such rigid dedication to a proven formula is precisely what results in the single most common complaint (and sisters and brothers, we humans do love to complain) levied against Galneryus in the modern age: little-to-no-more innovation. More on that spicy little tidbit in a few moments.
So, yeah, Syu and Yuhki write most of their songs using a proven formula that involves a dramatic opening, a catchy refrain / chorus hook, a proggy midsection piled high with guitar and keyboard battles, and a theatrical close, with the biggest deviation basically being Yuhki’s penchant for underscoring British hard rock. Would the duo benefit from locking themselves in a room with nothing but, say, Reign in Blood and Wish You Were Here on loop for a couple weeks before hitting the studio? Maybe, if that resulted in a record throwing down a relentless 2.5 minute song with zero solos (gulp), followed by a fully atmospheric drifter with Yuhki’s keys guiding us through space for five minutes or so. You know, something outside of the time-tested routine. We’re obviously not the boss of this office, though, and having spent the better part of the last two weeks binge-streaming the Galneryus discography in preparation for this write-up, I would now like to take the opportunity to confirm the following bonafide truth:
I would buy 100% of the Galneryus catalog in any physical format if it were suddenly available via a US distributor.
In short, this means all of the albums rank somewhere between good and GREAT, and while I agree it would be fun to see the band shake the hell out of Galneryus rulebook, I also believe being overly critical of this caliber of music is honestly just whack as hell.
Speaking truthfully, I was a bit nervous about the album when the first single dropped because the outset of “The Light of Hope” lead me to believe the full journey might be TOO tinkly / bright / cheery. But in typical Galneryus fashion, the album’s first centerpiece quickly showcases the band’s skill as pure speed metal maestros, and I have come to quite enjoy the song’s big hook within the full scope of the record. J-speed-pop? Sure, why not. To me it sounds tailor-made for the credits of some fresh hyper-action anime from Crunchyroll.
I would say the album does an admirable job of sequencing, given the range displayed here, so it only seems fitting that, following the brightest and most cheerful romp, the next move allows “Let No Time Decay” to hit your face like some sort of fugitive combat vehicle. This is one of the more aggressive and flat-out heavy cuts the band has dropped in recent memory, and it’s something that very much showcases the pure energy and strength of newest member (since 2020) Lea behind the kit. The song of course doesn’t forget the hook, despite its capacity for rage, and it provides a memorable bridge to the nucleus of the album.
Next is the Yuhki-penned “Beyond the Sunrise,” which sounds as if was torn from a similar neoclassical playbook as early Malmsteen. It’s a fun, mostly energetic cut that underscores just how well Sho’s voice has held up over the years. He sounds terrific, nailing the highs like a singer half his age, and the refrain welds itself to your marrow on repeated listens. The album then scoots into a really enjoyable one-two punch with “Break the Silence!” (Syu) and “To the Last Breath” (Yuhki). “Break the Silence is largely a ballad—one of two on the album, both of which could be edited down, if I’m honest—but it’s an infectious 80s’ hard rock ballad akin to vintage Whitesnake that still manages to throw down an excellent rocker riff, and it eventually spotlights an absolutely FIRE Yuhki keyboard solo at its midpoint.
“To the Last Breath” follows, which happens to be my favorite cut on the record. The song jumps from the gate with all the pomp and ceremony of a winning Rhapsody (of Fire) tune, and it pretty much spends its full 5 and a half minutes getting to the business of righteously whipping the listener’s ass with a full payload of power shred. Check out the absolutely killer organ solo and the way it shifts seamlessly into yet another explosive Syu lead before both fly off in unison to make way for the song’s fully dramatic close. Just a pure 11/10 jammer.
“Echoes of Fate” is the true ballad, and similar to “Break the Silence!” it stretches across an excessive 7 minutes, which does feel… rather unnecessary. However, Sho sounds great, and it’s difficult to say no to emotive guitar leads from a guy who probably came out of the womb mimicking George Lynch soloing atop an active volcano. Still, with an album pushing across the hour mark in just nine songs, and with the 15 minute pillar “Without You” still waiting on the precipice, “Echoes of Fate” does feel a bit superfluous.
So, is the 15-minute “Without You” worth the wait? I mean, if you’re into Galneryus epics—which, if we’re being honest, they’re just moderately longer Galneryus songs, even at 15 minutes—then, yes. In this case, “Without You” is a largely speedy number that twists to and fro between breakneck force and delicacy, and it of course affords the largest reach to Syu and Yuhki, particularly the former, whose fretwork starting at about 9:10 is just mind-explodingly precise and tense. I love the way they incorporate those deep chorus backgrounds, too, which makes the song’s close feel even more grand. Also interesting is the fact that, despite laying down lyrics concerning the hardships of losing someone very close to you, the song itself feels quite uplifting.
Is A Cry from the Sky Above essential listening? As suggested waaaaay up there, fans will literally work to find things to complain about with regards to Galneryus in the modern age, especially after laying down 16 full-lengths that largely travel the same footpath. And I get it: A little more experimentation would probably go a long way, particularly when you consider how talented the players behind the project happen to be. But I also believe the album does bend the Galneryus rules just enough by slowing things down and rocking a little harder, which in turn has allowed those indomitable Sho hooks to sink deeper than they have over the last couple of albums.
In the end, as long as I’m summoned to exist in a world that’s reeling with as many trials and tribulations as planet Earth circa 2026, I choose to celebrate an album of this caliber whose overall theme emphasizes the importance of holding on and pressing forward with light and energy in your heart.
Isn’t it wonderful that Galneryus still exists and continues to release confident and optimistic albums such as this? We are lucky to have them in our lives.
The post Galneryus – A Cry From The Sky Above Review appeared first on Last Rites.
The Smashing Pumpkins are set to headline Lollapalooza today (July 31), but that didn’t stop Billy Corgan from going out last night to see his mate YUNGBLUD.
Billy joined Dom at his special Lolla aftershow party for the curtain closer: the pair’s beautiful version of megahit ‘Zombie’, released at the start of this year.
Aside from being quite the sight on its own, seeing the two perform with such intent and purpose is something else entirely. You can see just how much the moment means to YUNGBLUD, but you can also tell just how proud Billy is to be a part of it as well.
By the end, you can’t help but smile from ear to ear.
Check out fan footage of the performance below:
As mentioned, the Pumpkins are set to headline Lollapalooza today alongside Charli XCX. The Story So Far, Loathe, Balu Brigada, Julia Wolf and High Vis will also be playing today.
The post WATCH: Billy Corgan Join YUNGBLUD On Stage For Stirring Rendition Of ‘Zombie’ appeared first on Rock Sound.
Twenty years and 10 albums into one of the most successful hard rock careers of the modern era, Five Finger Death Punch today released Legacy, the record the band regards as the definitive statement of everything they are. The album arrives on the heels of current single Eye Of The Storm, delivering the band’s 18th […]
Better Noise Music Out Now After reminding us all of the magnitude and quality of their musical output with two Best Of albums to celebrate their 20th anniversary as a band, Five Finger Death Punch looks to further cement their legacy with a new album as well, aptly titled just that. Legacy. Guitarist Zoltan Bathory […]Writer and director John Hamburg has shared his memories of working with Rush on his hit 2009 bromance I Love You, Man, starring Paul Rudd, Jason Segel and Rashida Jones.
In the film, Rudd’s character Peter Klaven is struggling to find an appropriate best man for his upcoming wedding to his fiancée Zoeey Rice (Jones) until he meets new best friend Sydney Fife (Segel), a fellow Rush fan. In pivotal scenes in the film, after bonding over their shared love of the Canadian prog rock trio, the two men jam on Rush songs, and attend a Rush gig together, much to the bemusement of Klaven’s fiancée, who isn’t entirely sure whether or not to accept her beloved’s offer to have Neil Peart “all up” in her.
“It felt like the perfect band to have these two guys bond over,” Hamburg tells Vulture in a new interview. “Rush is iconic and everybody knows them, but they’re not the Rolling Stones or the Beatles where everybody is a fan. A Rush fan is a certain type of person, and obviously there’s millions of them out there, but there’s a certain connection between Rush fans where even though they’re huge, you still feel like you’re part of a secret club. That’s what felt right for the movie.”
To get Rush’s blessing for the film, Hamburg wrote to the band, explaining that he was a big fan, and assuring the trio that referencing them in his film was based on respect and admiration.
“Once they understood that, they were onboard,” he tells Vulture. “They’re funny Canadian dudes. They have goofy senses of humor.”
“They couldn’t have been nicer and cooler,” he adds. “What I learned was they got it. You know what I mean? They understood what the scene was about and where the comedy was. I knew from their short films that appear at their concerts that they do have great senses of humor. They go in makeup and as these crazy characters. It’s obviously different from I Love You, Man, but it’s all under the umbrella of embracing comedy and the absurd. I would say Neil was the surprise. He’s pretty intimidating. First of all, he’s Neil fucking Peart. He’s the GOAT. People think he’s super-serious, but he could be the goofiest one out of all of them.”
The film-maker goes on to say that filming the band at the Avalon theater in Hollywood for the movie “was the most fun I’ve ever had on a set”
In addition to the film, Hamburg later shot an additional short forFunny Or Die in which Rudd and Segel actually meet Rush.
“The movie came out and did well,” he recalls. “It certainly introduced Rush to new audiences. It was just a win-win for everybody – and we all got along. They were going on the Time Machine Tour and asked if we would do a film to end their concerts. Of course we were like, ‘Hell yeah’…. It was funny to watch them interact with Paul and Jason, because in the movie, they never interact.”
Following Neil Peart’s death in 2020, Paul Rudd paid tribute to the drummer in a statement shared with Rolling Stone.
“When I first met Neil, I was intimidated as I certainly knew him to be a serious and private person,” Rudd said. “Within two minutes, we were cracking up and quoting lines from Team America. I’m missing him as I write this. Being the greatest drummer on the planet was only a part of Neil. He was a thunderbolt of a human being, and he’ll live forever.”
Watch the Funny Or Die sketch below.
Posted on July 31st 2026, 10:23am
Five Finger Death Punch are back with absolute chaos on their tenth studio album, Legacy. Formed in Las Vegas, the multi-platinum metal titans are marking their 20th anniversary by delivering an aggressive masterclass in modern hard rock. If you thought 2022’s AfterLife pushed their boundaries, this new record proves that 5FDP are actively evolving without […]
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