Underoath - Voyeurist

I think, yesterday we'll listen to Underoath. They have a fascinating backstory. 

No joke, Underoath started out as a Christian Black/Death Metal band. After a lot of lineup changes and 1 album with no original members whatsoever they all kind of realized the Christian music scene was just about the most horrible place they could imagine themselves being, so they said "yeah, we're not that anymore." Now they're just an EmoCore band and i can totally respect that. Don't thank me, thank Fat Mike. He treated them like people who matter by good naturedly ribbing them the way actual friends do. Not just Underoath either, Fat Mike has done some incredible work with all sorts of no fun to be around bands, Paramore even. I've implied it a thousand times, and i'll unsubtlely remind you any chance i get, if your ideology teaches you to treat the non-believers like garbage, then you are no fun to be around and you are the one who should leave. I hold myself accountable for that sentiment, so i don't think it's much of an unreasonable request. 

I've taken the unusual approach of listening to it before i review it (as compared to my normal review it as i'm listening), and this thing is HEAVY. It also comes with its own slip mat, for reasons i guess. Much like they have two vocalists (one of whom is a singing drummer), the band has a real duality to it. Kind of a dude/dude version of Beauty and the Beast, but sad. If we're going to make the somewhat obvious comparisons to Saosin and Architects that this album elicits, then this is not exactly an anytime album, because there is no jovial quality to view from multiple angles, no self-deprecating humor, no recognition of its own constructed nature. At a certain level, Dead Butterflies is somewhat humorous, but this is not. This album is just pure unrelenting misery from start to finish. That's not a bad thing at all, but it does eliminate pretty much any feeling of being entertained. This is art, and it is darker than a dead clown's mouth. 

The concept is relatively straightforward, we're all staring at the intimate details of each others' lives 24/7/365, but on first listen it's hard to tell which direction that's being presented. Partly that's the Emo making things confusing; it's not immediately apparent whether the "you" on this album refers to me the listener or them the narrating band (not the real life band, the imaginary band playing the album as you listen to it). Are they talking at me or at themselves? Another listen may or may not sort that out. 

The imagery, though, is pretty spot on. It's all messed up and garbled electronic noise, like an old TV with a bad antenna. I like that a lot. Like a lot of Metalcore, these are not machines of loving grace. Like a lot of Deerhunter, these are not fun times. Like a lot of Emo, we're trapped in one of the crappier preliminary versions of Munch's The Scream, but there is zero humor compared to something like say Badflower. There's even a Skinny Puppy-ish quality to it, in spite of not sounding at all like Skinny Puppy. 

We aren't doing a lyrical analysis for this review, because frankly this is exactly the kind of stuff that tends to curdle like milk if you pay too much attention (i'm pointing at you, Atreyu). Instead, we'll turn it around and ask is this worth delving into to find out? On first listen, yes absolutely. I want this album to turn out to be actually awesome, and whether or not it actually turns out to be good or bad is somewhat counterintuitively irrelevant. It gave me a sense of hope, let's keep that hope alive for as long as possible.