Before we tackle the songs on the next LP by The Furnace, we need to address all the changes that happened during the three years since their debut. We're now in 2002. It's important to note one major change that has nothing to do with the band at all: I moved away from Arizona. That's only significant because I was no longer able to see these guys play live. My experience came solely from listening to their music. Believe me, I hate that I missed seeing my little brother, and the rest of his mates, perform.
First and foremost, we now have a new lead singer, David Armstrong. I don't quite know why Kevin Flowers left, but I wouldn't write about that even if I did. It's none of your fucking business. It's none of mine. That's something the band needed to work out. Not us. If you want to read about band drama, pick up my new novel Raised on Rock when it's available on October 1st (shameless plugs shall never perish from the earth).
To be fair and not take anything away from Kevin (because I love his vocals), Dave does an excellent job stepping in. He's probably a better singer, technically speaking. The brilliance in Dave's approach is that he never takes on more than he needs to. He doesn't show off. I never get that he's trying to prove he's better than, or put himself in any competition with, Kevin. He continues to give the fans exactly what they expect from The Furnace: powerful soul. And yeah, he's got that Seth McFarland 90s voice going on. Except he's more of a cross between Creed or Live with a little less James Hetfield. Certainly not bad company to hang with.
We also have a new guitarist. Or rather a second guitarist, Casey Weaver. Here's what makes Casey so amazing: I can't tell when he's playing or when Danny's playing, and I've listened to my brother play since we were fucking teenagers! I might guess that Danny plays the riffs and Casey the leads, but I can't be sure and could be wrong. But I also don't care because these two ax-men make great fucking music together. Sure, we no longer have that Ozzy/Sabbath feel that Danny gave us on the debut album, but that's okay. As artists, we all want to grow. I don't only write like Stephen King anymore. And the world already has Tony Iommi, Randy Rhodes, and Zakk Wylde, right? It's one thing to be inspired, it's another to innovate. These two guys meld together like the best pinochle hand.
The biggest difference for me might be Paul's drumming. He's a standout on this album. Remember when I told you he's one of my favorites? This album shows you why. He kicks every song into high gear. His timing is spectacular. His approach, more complex and powerful than before. I don't really know how to speak drums (hey, I barely know how to speak guitar and I've been playing for ten years: strings, chords, scales ... duh, look at me play guitar real good) or else I'd give you a better description. Paul's subtle when he needs to be (as always) but fucking rocks when we need our asses kicked. I love it!
Dave Garcia has stepped in on bass and provides the constant support you expect without distracting. My favorite players are Geezer Butler and Gene Simmons. What I love most about those two is that they know exactly when they're supposed to ride the wave but also when they're supposed to shine. Dave's the same. The best moments for me in these songs is when the guitars drop out for a short count and let Dave thump away. It's great writing and solid collaboration.
I ended up taking a lot of time getting through the preliminary bullshit again, so if you're still reading, I'll take you through some of the songs. There are 12 of them, which is about three or four more than I usually like on an album (that goes for any artist). Give me 8-10 songs, and I'm good to go. I end up skipping my way around to create my own playlist anyhow. And yes, that goes for Elvis's and Ozzy's albums.
"Look Down Upon Me" opens the set and is about as catchy as anything The Furnace has given us so far. It welcomes us with their classic metal prowess despite the lineup changes. The groove is melodic, the guitar solo understated but purposeful, the structure original. The refrain doesn't come until the coda, which leaves me wanting more as the song ends. Perfect.
By the time we get to the fourth track, "Killer Inside," the head-banging is constant. The songs rock with powerful drive. If not for the liner notes, I would've thought this was called "Kill Her Inside," which also works. If there's one song on this album that I might've co-written with Danny (like "Raise the Dead"), it would've been this one. "All alone in an empty room, I hear a child crying" and "Not alone in a crowded room, I hear a family screaming" sound like me, and I fucking love it. It's probably my favorite rocker on the disc. Very radio friendly and stays in your head long after the album is over. The effortless guitar solo and acoustic bridge are followed by a crescendo of refrains underscored with melodic lead and varied melody, reflecting a growth and maturity of these artists that leaps everywhere off the disc.
The band resurrects their vampire hymn for the ninth track. They call it "Tar" this time around and change the lyrics, but the riffs and melody sound the same. I wonder how Dave felt about recording this one. Or Kevin listening, if he ever gave it a chance. Again, none of our fucking business. The song is solid but so was the original. They alter the arrangement enough not to force the comparison. Again, Dave handles the vocals without trying to prove he's better than Kevin. The best choice was not giving us the same ending. Kevin's version includes a haunting refrain that closes the debut album like a funeral chant. Smart not to go there again.
I love covers when they're true to their antecedents, and the band's take on "I Ran" is no exception. It reminds me of how Life of Agony does "Don't You (Forget About Me)." There's something poetic about a metal band taking a pop song and making the heaviness work. This homage carries me right back to junior high and every girl I ever chased. The musicians let loose while Dave's vocals pound our broken hearts into submission.
The disc closes with "Say Goodbye," an acoustic ballad reminiscent of "The Child" on their debut. This time, our passionate speaker can't find the right words to say when parting ways with his loved one. I'm confident my little brother wrote this about our grandmother (some nine years before she died), but the lyrics apply to any relationship. Percussion creeps in during the second half of the song, reminding me of a galloping horse. Perhaps, one that carries away the object of affection. It's poignant and chilling.
I can't help but walk away from Beyond What's Become feeling proud of what these guys accomplished despite all the lineup changes. A remarkable effort. Find it on Spotify or buy it here: Beyond What's Become.
Next up: Find a Way.
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