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In Zero Hour, The Laser's Edge subsidiary Sensory Records has a band that perfectly embodies its mission statement: to offer progressive music in which "complexity and intelligence [are] combined with extreme power and heaviness." Well, almost perfectly. The first part of that combination manifests as structures and rhythms that are challenging yet fluid, and as thoughtful lyrics blending the personal with the universal, the concrete with the abstract. As for the second pair of qualities, whereas these Californians muster a satisfying level of force in the tight, hard, staccato riffing and tumultuous, melodic progressive parts on this album, their fourth, they are also inclined to mellow out for long stretches, and it is in the former mode that they distinguish themselves most. There is a rare freshness in Zero Hour's expertly played Meshuggah-style riffs. One could wish for more variations, but of all the ways in which the band repeat themselves--and there are many--these instances are the most welcome. When the machine gun guitars and drums in the title track--the album's centerpiece and standout song--are echoed with only slight alteration in "Evidence of the Unseen," few would complain. Likewise, the more bright and buoyant chords heard in "Face the Fear" are worthy of the second airing they receive (again with minimal difference) in "The Falcon's Cry." It is, however, a bit much for this to happen on consecutive tracks, in each song with nearly the same lead-in.
When repetition takes the form of quiet, spare, overly gentle, often acoustic-oriented sections with monotonous note progressions, too much power is sapped from individual songs and the album as a whole. There's contrast and then there's buzz kill, and you don't have to be the sledgehammer-me-only type to find that the latter is the case here. After a vigorous start, "Face the Fear" goes totally soft for close to three tedious minutes and for a briefer stint later on. A similar phenomenon occurs in "The Falcon's Cry," but this time with some intermittent mild punch, whereas the entirety of the ballad "I Am Here" is very bland. Much more effective dynamics emerge from the juxtaposition of heaviness with light but stimulating accelerated passages like the jazzy, slinky guitars and bass at the opening of "Face the Fear," recalled later in the instrumental "Zero Hour." More delicate and repetitious, "Embrace" sustains interest with its beautiful rippling, layered guitars but fizzles out somewhat during the sparer final forty-plus seconds, a coda that makes sense for the song but is drawn out too long.
A less tangible but equally effective contrast exists between the rhythmic wildness of the album's heavy progressive tempests, none more thrilling than that which opens the title track, and the relentless, angular precision of its staccato attacks, the two styles linked by mutual intensity. It's easy to appreciate this side of Zero Hour, but only those with a fondness for softness and sedateness will be able to embrace this band fully. Also required is a tolerance for high vocals. Talented new frontman Chris Salinas (ex-Power of Omens) has a wide range but primarily exhibits its upper, often excruciatingly stratospheric levels, which has earned him not entirely unfounded comparisons to Geoff Tate, although Salinas is less prone to affectation. When dipping low, however, his voice is much more unique-sounding, its rich, masculine depth during parts of "The Falcon's Cry" and the little snarl in "Face the Fear" giving tantalizing hints of what might have been or what could be.
Even if hearing Salinas demonstrate his ability to nail those high notes holds as little aesthetic appeal for you as does watching competitive eater Takeru Kobayashi stuff his face with hot dogs, the ensuing cringes, like the boredom engendered by Zero Hour's mellow periods, might just be worth enduring for the pleasure afforded by the heavier aspects of the music and by the skill of the Tipton twins Jasun (guitars) and Troy (bass) and drummer Mike Guy. The album's attractive cover art, which was done by Bjoern Goosses at Killustrations, is classy and conceptually provocative enough to be an incentive too. Hailed by devotees as a return to the form of The Towers of Avarice, the band's widely favored second full-length, Specs of Pictures Burnt Beyond can be recommended guardedly to anyone who thrives on staccato riffing and strongly to prog rock/metal fans who don't mind a mix of these extremes. Judging by Zero Hour's fervent fan base, there are many such individuals.
| Tracklist |
| 1. Face The Fear |
| 2. The Falcon's Cry |
| 3. Embrace |
| 4. Specs Of Pictures Burnt Beyond |
| 5. Zero Hour |
| 6. I Am Here |
| 7. Evidence Of The Unseen |
: 43.12
| Buy other Zero Hour albums |
