ZIPPO - Maktub
No, I'm also confused as to why a band would name themselves after a pocket lighter manufacturer. I'm guessing here but, considering how deeply embedded in psych/stoner metal Zippo are, then the chances are they probably smoke more than their fare share of green. It figures then that they've probably got little coloured disposable versions laying about everywhere so it makes some sort of backward sense that they should find inspiration from them.
Having not come across the band before, it's something of a surprise to learn that Maktub, an Arabic word meaning "destiny", is the Italian quintet's third album. From the off, it's clear they love to pound you like No Made Sense and Isis are want to do. They scream of the scattergun lunacy of Killing Joke, with a touch of Baroness alchemy thrown in, but also revel in tightening the screws to attack like their heroes, Mastodon. Maktub is determinedly experimental, thunderously riotous, and also burns with an in-built passion for all things cosmic. Take 'Caravan To Your Destiny', which tiptoes into your consciousness from gentle beginnings before proceeding to contort its backline until the strings begin to pinball around your skull. Quite a force when combined with Davide Straccione's vocal battery; an intriguing combination of Troy Sanders (Mastodon), Mike Patton (Faith No More) and Josh Homme (Queens Of The Stone Age). He seems to revel in the whole innate lunacy of the track, throwing out an echoing power that lists maniacally.
They've dragged in some special guests for this one too. You'll find the baritone sax of Zu's Luca T. Mai, curiously popping up to add shredded drone and splintering feedback to the warbling star that is 'Simum', a good dose of The Orange Man Theory's Gabbo and Cinghio, who deliver the harmonised "roaring screams" for 'The Personal Legend' and, most notably, Orange Goblin's Ben Ward part-screaming part-narrating the most ludicrously obscure lyrics - "You can't turn lead into gold / Mercury means nothing to me" for the pistoning bruiser 'Man Of Theory'.
The first half of the album is seemingly all brawn and no brains - short tracks that hit you hard and run for cover before they really have time to make any meaningful impact. It's the equivalent of being the helplessly small boat caught in an almighty storm. The unpredictable ferocity with which you are blasted through from one side to the other is disorienting. Thankfully, as the track length increases and the squall abates the music comes back to you, finds a pattern and digs its heels in. By the time you spin the closer, 'The Treasure', you'll have discovered a band that have hit their stride and prove perfect companions to guide you through their chosen subject matter - the emotional journey home. Surely, listening to music shouldn't make you feel this exhausted though. By all means check this out, but do approach with caution.John Skibeat
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