Ashcorn
Aware as I am of the fact that I am precariously close and willingly it seems to being classed as a cynical gen-x bastard, and in spite of the relatively unrelated fact that I thought I was beyond being easily shocked, when listening to Ashcorn’s newest offering 'Visions For Your Instinct' it can’t go without mentioning I was once again deeply and disturbingly confounded by bearing sonic witness to another band’s apparent disregard for that one precious thing all musicians and artists typically strive for - originality. And as much as I wish I could say fuck it, I don’t care, I do care. I really, really do.
It doesn’t bother me Ashcorn have overtly painted their flag all colours Fear Factory and Korn - art doesn’t exist in a context-free vacuum, everyone has influences and to deny that is to be a self-delusional pretentious twat. What does bother me is that they’ve taken the nu-metal/cyber-goth/industrial metal formulas - formulas which, if history has taught us anything, in the wrong hands are oft prone to coming across like a blast of stale, fetid air - and in an apparent attempt at creating something unique have only succeeded in diluting something to the point that even my Nan’s watered-down cordial inflicted upon me as a child seems potent by comparison.
The band define their sound as “Hi Groove Modern Metal”, a term I’m not claiming to have either heard before or particularly care what it means exactly, but when the words ‘groove’ and ‘metal’ are used in the same sentence together automatically my mind conjures up images of all things Pantera, Damageplan, Devildriver and Lamb of God, all compellingly forceful and intoxicatingly intense and all things Ashcorn are not. Even lyrically and conceptually the 12 songs (13 if you include the bonus ‘Radio Edit’ of a song already on the album) that make up 'Visions For Your Instinct' opt for literal and simplistic grumblings about the delusions of capitalism and technological enslavement of the masses over challenging and intelligent sermonising.
To say this slab of ditties is inconsistent could potentially imply it jumps between moments of inspired noise to moments of contemptible crap, but instead its inconsistency would best be described as shifting between competent sample-sprinkled commercialised metal to predictable, unessential listening. Too easily this will submerge deep beneath the rapidly filling quagmire of radio-friendly metal, never to be seen or heard from again by anyone with a modicum of discernment. And thus ends my cynical bastard rant.