You Can Be My Wave

Metalcore and mathcore veterans, Converge, have finally returned with their first (solo) full-length in nearly nine years. Despite their legendary status, I've spent more time with the West Coast's brand of chaotic hardcore than I have with these East Coast titans. It's an odd oversight considering guitarist Kurt Ballou is easily one of my favorite producers in the game with numerous amazing credits to his name. After listening to Love Is Not Enough, it is immediately clear that thirty years of volatility haven't dampened the band's faculties. They sound remarkably sharp, barreling through ten tracks that are surprisingly doomy, hellish, and saturated with dread, as opposed to the more confounding and angular material I'm used to. My first real impression of Converge is that their aesthetics are rooted in classic heavy/thrash metal, albeit with a touch more chaos and violence.

The record's speedy and technical first half is what I really gravitated to. The opening title track immediately sets the tone with thrashy pull-off riffs from Ballou and tightly performed toms rolls from Ben Koller. The rototom fill that leads into the record's first blast beat is especially devastating. The breakdown that appears later on in the song is awesome as Ballou strings together all these pull-off motifs into one continuous whirlwind. The relentless energy is maintained throughout the one-two punch of Distract and Divide and To Feel Something. On both tracks, Koller dominates the spotlight. Just listen for the articulation in the ride cymbal, no one can tell me that Koller is merely flailing around when he executes these parts with such flawless precision. The latter of the two tracks happens to be my personal favourite. The chaotic blasts are interrupted by heavy, pounding toms and screeching guitar harmonic rakes. Jacob Bannon's vocal shift from a monstrous scream to a desperate yelp, paired with an eerie guitar melody, creates an ugly moment that shares the DNA of a Justin Pearson project (Retox, Dead Cross).

Getting into the second half of the record, the pacing and intensity does decrease on average. The results are still fairly decent, for example when Ballou whips out a baritone guitar to craft a thick, sludgy atmosphere for Amok Amok. Or bursting into Force Meets Presence with crushing, galloping chugs. But still, I don't find these tracks to be as electrifying when compared to the album's first leg. It's during this energetic lull that we reach the album's biggest low point, Gilded Cage. The verses on this track feature a drum groove that feels incredibly flat, chiming guitars that fail to spark interest, and Bannon's desperate yelps are unflatteringly whiny. Thankfully, momentum is somewhat restored in the album's two final tracks. Make Me Forget You is the album's melodic peak, utilizing upper-register riffs that echo the post-hardcore stylings of Belgian band Brutus. For the closer, Ballou once again unleashes a series of pull-off riffs, making We Were Never the Same feel like the album is coming full-circle.

With, Love Is Not Enough I can see why Converge's status in the metalcore/mathcore scene has endured. While I tend to prefer the more chaotic or 'absurd' sides of the genre, there is an undeniable power in the apocalyptic sound that they conjure. It helps when you have a producer as experienced and as principled as Kurt Ballou, who can transform an organic performance into something monolithic without trickery or artificial enhancements. Having a raw, real presentation, especially when arrangements can become intricate and technical, is a sure-fire way to earn my respect. It may be time to go back and earnestly get acquainted with some of their classic records.