Year Of Metal #094: Soulfly - Soulfly
As noted in my Deftones review, in the interest of seeking out new stuff I’ve mostly swerved the nu metal heavy hitters, and have found the idea of most of the subgenre’s also-rans too depressing to countenance Accordingly I’ve wound up with Soulfly as the representative of nu metal’s B tier, a well regarded act who never found their way into the popular consciousness of my high school circa 2002.
While they didn’t gain the name recognition of your ‘knots and your Bizkits over here (though we should note that this record shifted half a mil in the US of A), there’s an argument to be made that Soulfly’s 1998 self titled debut encapsulates the movement as well as any LP. It’s brash and aggressive, it sounds expensive, it’s far too long. It was made in the wake of Max Cavalera departing from Sepultura (making him a member of the Year Of Metal Two Timers Club), and fuses that heavy, downtuned ‘90s sound with world music influences.
All that works like gangbusters. I think pretty much every song on here is cool in its own right. But at the same time, every song is more or less the same idea, and nearly 70 minutes of this stuff is pretty exhausting. Still, as a state of the nation metal LP, this vibe takes some beating. I think my favourite tune is “Bumba”, featuring Los Hooligans. This one’s particularly drained of any fat, with the percussion - great throughout the album - clattering away and the guitars tuned so low that the chords are barely discernible. Cavalera remains a rhythm merchant rather than a melody maker on his vocals, and the power he gets behind his screams on the chorus is enviable stuff. To truly cap off that 1998 vibe, this would be a perfect entrance song for a wrestler.
Cavalera opens the door to some A-list guests on Soulfly. Most notable is the man of the moment Fred Durst, who drops a quick verse on third single “Bleed”. He’s on his best behaviour here, stepping into the somewhat heavier world that Soulfly conjure and shrieking as best he can. We also get to hear Cavalera deploy what can only be described as the nu metal babble, perhaps most famously utilised by Korn, for the gabbled rap verses. You can understand why this didn’t become a crossover hit like “Rollin’” or “Freak On A Leash”, but there are moments of greatness on here, particularly the percussive outro from Roy Mayorga. This dude is now in Ministry, who I like, and apparently gave himself a stroke from headbanging too hard. If that ain’t metal, I don’t know what is.
The record stretches its palette a little with the layered world music influences. It’s most obvious on “Umbabarauma”, a cover of a samba classic by Jorge Ben Jor. You’re always a tad out on a limb with a cover like this on an album like Soulfly - i.e. covering something so unbelievably hooky and melodic as this can put into sharp contrast your own songwriting - but it’s exactly what I want to hear in a heavy cover of another genre. Soulfly manage to keep everything good about the original, while drenching it in that pummelling ‘90s noise courtesy of nu metal impresario Ross Robinson. It sounds like such a blast to play, and serves as a way for Cavalera to celebrate his home country, so it’s a big win all round.
Nu metal wasn’t a subgenre known for subtlety or reserve in any form, so you’d be remiss to criticise an album of this nature for being too long and unrelentingly loud. It’s not totally without its variety - the self-titled instrumental is very pretty and well realised, and the old school thrash of “The Song Remains Insane” is a change from the norm, even if it is more noisy gear. Soulfly pick a lane and stay in it, and even when they’re singing about de rigeur topics of isolation and pain &c &c, they do so with better grooves and musicianship than most of their erstwhile peers.
