Year Of Metal #052: Mastodon - Leviathan
Every generation is blessed with a handful of metal bands that appeal to non-metal audiences. Often these are acts that colour outside of normal lines, like System Of A Down or Faith No More, but others transcend through star power or sheer quality. Metallica are one such band, and for the previous generation of indie wimps dipping into the heavy stuff, that band was Mastodon.
While I’m far from well versed on these guys, I do like them a decent amount, and it’s easy to see why they’ve made that jump to the semi-mainstream. 2004’s Leviathan is a great entry point because it so easily overcomes some of the most obvious critiques metal doubters will launch at the genre. You can’t listen to this record and even entertain the idea that these dudes lack chops, or don’t know how to write songs. Appropriately for an album based on Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick, Leviathan is all over the place. These songs never sit still, always boasting a gear shift, a change in metre, something cool and decorative to serve as a cherry on top.
On “I Am Ahab”, they go so hard that they sound like they’re going to trip themselves up. Brann Dailor’s drums, in particular, are enough to knock you seasick. They tumble and crash, the kicks exhaustingly relentless, the snare cracking and swaying. That pure power approach is thematically impressive in capturing the monomaniac psyche of its subject, if you want to take it down the literary route.
“Seabeast” is a more melodic effort, full of nautical hooks and great lead guitar work. Without ever flexing for the sake of it, Mastodon demonstrate their musical virtuosity time and again, in undeniable fashion. Even on the shorter cuts like “Island”, they’re still finding ways to pack in ideas galore in an ear-friendly fashion. I think the crux of the record’s success is that they find the exact midpoint between serious artist stuff, playfulness, and goofiness. These are heavyweight, expertly crafted songs, but the fact that they’re singing about a Victorian whaling novel makes for a fun and strangely accessible time, never toppling over into the nerdy world some metal bands dwell in.
On one hand the conceptual bent of Leviathan doesn’t scream hit potential, but when you’re able to kick off with a track like “Blood And Thunder”, you’re already halfway there. The snappy riff has a punk quality to it, and the chorus explodes with life. Again they’re finding a perfect balance here - this tune’s radio ready, but never to the detriment of Mastodon’s metal bonafides. They thrash out hard, but the craft is so apparent.
Leviathan is solidified as one of the 21st century’s undeniable classics by this point, and for my part I’ve really enjoyed coming back to it maybe seven or eight years after first listening. I think I was impressed but not exactly enamoured the first time around. This time, it really hit the spot. From concept to execution, it gets everything right.
