Mastodon, "Leviathan"
"Dude, Neil Peart is totally fuckin sick."
This sentiment was sure to have been offered by at least one member of Mastodon at an earlier stage in his life, likely within 10-20 feet of a 7/11. And though the geeky squelch of Rush has long ceased to interest many of my peers, I still put on All the World's a Stage (Rush's live album, recorded during their 2112 tour), and opine the same: Dude, Neil Peart is totally fuckin' sick.
Brann Dailor is totally fuckin' sick. Part Peart, part Philly Joe Jones, part your favorite double-kick drummer (Lars circa Master...?), Dailor is Mastodon's none-too-secret weapon, dropping Jack DeJohnette-on-basement-crank fills and beats into most every tune on Mastodon's massively metal kickassterpiece, Leviathan.
Now, I know what you're thinking: jazz and/or prog-rock drumming in metal-sounds totally fuckin' gay, dude. But Dailor's drumming never takes center-stage, remaining content to fuck with us from the perimeter. Because if you're a metal fan like I'm a metal fan, you know that metal's best when there's not too much getting in the way of the riffs. And-dude!-the riffs on Leviathan!
"Blood and Thunder" kicks off the record with a riff that wouldn't have been out of place on Priest's Point of Entry, a riff quickly blasted into hardcore gear by Dailor's insane drumming, and the hoarse exhortations by whoever the fuck it is belting out the opening lines, "I think that someone is trying to kill me!" (They have two vocalists, and I can't tell them apart.)
Followed by "I Am Ahab" (Oh yeah... Ahab, Leviathan, cover art of a big-ass white whale: guess what the lyrical theme of this record is? Hey, it beats doing a metal record to "Bartleby the Scrivener." The monomaniacal quest of the peg-legged captain lends itself better to metal than would the passively resistant coda of "I would prefer not to." Agreed?), a blisters-on-my-fingers riff-fest that, like the opening lines of track 1 say, I think is trying to kill me.
And we're just getting off the ground, or into the ocean, or whatever. On "Megalodon" you'll find a southern fried riff that'll make you say "I didn't expect that!" But it all makes perfect sense: Mastodon is from Georgia and, more importantly, doesn't give a fuck about what you expect.
On "Hearts Alive," the 13:39 epic (don't worry: most tunes hover in the 3 minute range), one riff gives way to another, some capturing Randy Rhoads, others Dicky Betts, others Dimebag Darrell (the riffs all over Leviathan keep good company).
The rest of the record: there is acoustic guitar, there are songs actually sung, there are even harmonies!!! There are ten tunes-thrash, sludge, math rock, NWOBHM, hardcore, grindcore, hardgrind, core me Ishmael-it's all here.
Don't get this record if you chose REM over metal when you were a teenager, because metal this good is not friendly to strictly indie-rock sensibilities. Metal this good has what made metal metal from day one: riffs, speed, screaming, and sludge. Metal this good contains no iron(y). You must be able to say upon listening to Leviathan-without sarcasm and without a wink, but with the adolescent enthusiasm that comes when you're smoking bongs in your mom's basement-"dude, Mastodon is totally fuckin' sick."
--by Matt Casper
