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Playground of the Damned
Playground of the Damned in Bloomington, MN
Current price: $43.99
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The creation of
Manilla Road
's 15th studio album was fraught with a
Spinal Tap
-like succession of "imploding" bass players suffering from an assortment of health issues that not only caused recording sessions to drag out over several months, but wound up keeping the band homebound in Wichita, Kansas for much of 2010 and 2011. On the upside, this extended downtime did nothing to stop global awareness of
Mark Shelton
's quasi-legendary epic metal ensemble from continuing to grow, slowly but steadily (thank you, Internet), but, on the downside, it didn't result in a particularly special collection of songs. Don't misunderstand:
Playground of the Damned
is consistent both in terms of style and substance with recent
efforts, but its own track list is marred by unusually inconsistent songwriting quality. This matter sees a fine energetic opening headbanger named "Jackhammer" give way to a turgid example of going through the motions called "Into the Maelstroem"; the finely wrought, multifaceted "Fire of Asshubanipal" followed by the seemingly rushed, awkwardly arranged "Abbatoir de la Mort"; along with several love/hate propositions like "Brethren of the Hammer" (
Manowar
-level lyrics, recycled musical parts) and "Art of War" (inspired poetry, sleepy music that never really climaxes). Arguably only the title track, with its distinctive slide guitars, and the epic "Grindhouse," where
Shelton
's guitar work really comes alive, will challenge the grandeur of
's best fantasy metal fare in the long run. And the album's equally uneven (separate recording sessions will do that) and intentionally spare production standards arguably cross the fine line between "authentically retro" and "simply unsatisfactory," doing this uneven collection no favors. Bottom line:
probably won't go down as one of
's best, but it's nowhere near their worst, either, and longtime devotees won't want to do without, regardless. Newbies, on the other hand, may want to start discovering the band elsewhere. ~ Eduardo Rivadavia
Manilla Road
's 15th studio album was fraught with a
Spinal Tap
-like succession of "imploding" bass players suffering from an assortment of health issues that not only caused recording sessions to drag out over several months, but wound up keeping the band homebound in Wichita, Kansas for much of 2010 and 2011. On the upside, this extended downtime did nothing to stop global awareness of
Mark Shelton
's quasi-legendary epic metal ensemble from continuing to grow, slowly but steadily (thank you, Internet), but, on the downside, it didn't result in a particularly special collection of songs. Don't misunderstand:
Playground of the Damned
is consistent both in terms of style and substance with recent
efforts, but its own track list is marred by unusually inconsistent songwriting quality. This matter sees a fine energetic opening headbanger named "Jackhammer" give way to a turgid example of going through the motions called "Into the Maelstroem"; the finely wrought, multifaceted "Fire of Asshubanipal" followed by the seemingly rushed, awkwardly arranged "Abbatoir de la Mort"; along with several love/hate propositions like "Brethren of the Hammer" (
Manowar
-level lyrics, recycled musical parts) and "Art of War" (inspired poetry, sleepy music that never really climaxes). Arguably only the title track, with its distinctive slide guitars, and the epic "Grindhouse," where
Shelton
's guitar work really comes alive, will challenge the grandeur of
's best fantasy metal fare in the long run. And the album's equally uneven (separate recording sessions will do that) and intentionally spare production standards arguably cross the fine line between "authentically retro" and "simply unsatisfactory," doing this uneven collection no favors. Bottom line:
probably won't go down as one of
's best, but it's nowhere near their worst, either, and longtime devotees won't want to do without, regardless. Newbies, on the other hand, may want to start discovering the band elsewhere. ~ Eduardo Rivadavia
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