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Ocean, "Here Where Nothing Grows"
Ever since the recent, baffling critical legitimization of metal, agaggle of new black/death/doom metal bands, or bands coyly playing withthe same techniques and aesthetic concerns at several removes of irony,have been ushered into existence.Every independent label in the USA and Europe suddenly finds itselfscrambling to sign and distribute bands and that only a few years agowould have been cruelly mocked and ridiculed for their self-consciously"dark" posturing and indulgently formulaic music. But everything old iskitsch again, no matter how boring and insulting the whole contemporaryscene of detuned, slow-motion stoner metal bands duplicating the Earthand Sunn O))) sound has been.
These groups are capable of capitalizing on the metal trend notbecause of their talent or originality, but because they draw lazily ona familiar archive of lyrical imagery and sludgy, oppressiveatmospherics, and this shared metal past does all the work for them.They have apparently become involved with the metal scene merelybecause of its sudden trendiness, and as soon as the current indiemetal mania dies down, no doubt they'll be gone with the wind to fairershores. Retrospectively, bands like these can claim to have beeninfluenced by classic black metal acts such as Bathory, Mayhem andBurzum, but this is more indicative of the new culture of quick andeasy file-sharing downloads than evidence of core allegiance.
Like many in this new wave of metal, Ocean do not seem to come armedwith any special history of involvement in, or knowledge of the metalscene. Like so many of their contemporaries, they enter the world ofmetal as outsiders, and take a cautious step onto metal shores. Part ofthis "outsider" stance usually involves a certain amount of ironicdistance and disengagement with some of the more embarrassing stylisticconceits of traditional metal - the long hair, corpse paint, Klingonwardrobe, etc. Also, there is generally a calculated step back fromsome of the more extremist tendencies of the music itself. Many ofthese bands attempt to marry some of the more obsessive aestheticconcerns to slightly less genre-specific styles, often theslow-building instrumental grandeur of bands like Mogwai or GodspeedYou Black Emperor.
No exceptions here: three lengthy, slowly churning dirges packedwith relentlessly crushing riffs, battering ram drums, loads of basssludge and guttural screaming. Though he attempts valiantly to sound likehis black metal heroes like Malefic or Count Grishnackh, Ocean'svocalist tragically suffers from the all-too-common metal malady ofCookie Monster vocals (which you can read all about by clicking here).Another problem is the band's willful meandering and lack of structure,not necessarily a bad thing, but when you're swimming around in themidst of a 25-minute trudge, it's nice to be able to find yourbearings. Ocean offer no buoys or milestones, no hooks or melodies, andthey lack even the slow, dramatic builds and climactic centerpieces ofGYBE. The songs just begin, they overstay their welcome, and then theyleave.
Ocean are competent as a group, are proficient players,and the album is well produced, but there is nothing to set their particular brand of homogenizedpseudo-metal above that of their contemporaries. Also, theirnondescript choice of name is forever destined to get them confusedwith another very similar outfit from Germany named The Ocean, whoserecent album Fluxion has been compared to the very same musicaltouchstones—Isis, Pelican, Corrupted. Here Where Nothing Grows is the band's debut album, but it contains very little that will serve to distinguish it in an already overpopulated genre.
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