Year Of Metal #077: Bring Me The Horizon - There Is A Hell, Believe Me I’ve Seen It. There Is A Heaven, Let’s Keep It A Secret
Bring Me The Horizon (or “Bring Me”, as I’ve heard fans abbreviate their unwieldy and annoying name) are one of those bands who became absolutely massive without my being any the wiser. The Sheffield act have become bonafide festival headliners the world over; all the while up until this point I haven’t heard a second of their music. Their third album channels Fiona Apple in terms of title length, but unfortunately not so much as far as the music goes. I can see the appeal to an extent - the music is produced and polished to within an inch of its life, the frame is filled and the performances certainly convey passion. Without wanting to be snobby (but probably being somewhat snobby), you can see why this is the kind of metal that hits that stadium level.
There are good ideas aplenty and a lot of creativity across There Is A Hell, but the band often feel like they just don’t know when to keep adding stuff. Opener “Crucify Me” has a cool jagged guitar pattern dancing over the pummelling rhythm section; it’s a packed soundscape but it’s recorded so brightly that nothing goes missing. That is until Oli Sykes’ vocals start and everything basically turns to mush. I think he’s double tracked himself and cut out any breathing room, so he’s occupying every single second of the song for a solid minute. Things calm down as guest vocalist Lights sings the record’s title laden with creepy, glitchy effects, which is a cool idea, but we’re into our fourth or fifth idea already, without anything getting the chance to marinate.
What’s surprising about this album - and maybe it’s only surprising due to my lack of familiarity with metalcore - is how often it sounds like straightforward nu metal. That’s often not a bad thing. First single “It Never Ends” stands out for its straightforward muscular thrust. These are just good, chunky, downtuned riffs, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Sykes is much more compelling as a brash dickhead screaming “I've said it once, I've said it twice, I've said it a thousand fuckin' times” than he is trying to pontificate on theology. There’s even a bit of scratching on this one; we’re really partying like it’s 1999.
“Blacklist” is better still. My favourite track on the album by a way, it’s pure nu metal in the Korn vein, mostly one chord and the truth. Great big clodhopping bendy guitars, some of Sykes’ best work on the screams (he’s a bit limp at times), and a slower tempo and greater emphasis on the lower end that makes the most of these high production values. For all their verbosity, they seem to me to operate on a much higher level when they keep things direct and vicious.
At other times, though, the posturing ticks over into cringe. I’m loath to fling the word “pretentious” around because it’s such an inaccurately used term at times, but Bring Me’s reach exceeds their grasp a lot of the time. Sykes has said in interviews how personal the lyrics are on this record. One song is called “Fuck”, so there you go. This epithet-laden track is one of the record’s major descents into cringe. “Blessed With A Curse”, the closer, reaches the nadir, with a sparkling emo soundscape blighted by deadly dull brute force guitar work and the record’s absolute worst lyrics. “Ever since this began, I was blessed with a curse / And for better or for worse, I was born into a hearse” is perhaps the faux-profound low point.
I couldn’t rightly say this is a bad record because it obviously connects with a lot of people and ultimately does what it sets out to do, but I found it extremely grating. I’m all for self pity in my music - I’m a Pinkerton guy, after all - but the lyrical flagellation felt bland and generic, in keeping with the band’s swing-for-the-fences approach. Most of the edge is sanded off by the incredibly polished sound, and the end result is Linkin Park but unnecessarily louder.
