The Concealers

As they arrive at the third album of an increasingly erratic career, the operative word to describe the trajectory of futuristic death metal band Daath has been "change" if not outright "turmoil." It all began with the independent obscurity of their first album, 2004's Futility, which paved the way by tortuous means to their being anointed for potential greatness when their second album, 2007's The Hinderers, was released by the world's most powerful heavy metal label, Roadrunner, before bringing about the lateral move of having their third disc, 2009's The Concealers, licensed to the perhaps the less resourceful but certainly more metal-focused Century Media label. Thing is, the last step in this course would be no cause for concern were it not for the preceding ejection of the band's founding keyboardist, major songwriter, and primary visionary, Mike Kameron. With him goes not only the group's daringly eclectic and oftentimes very innovative use of orchestrated synths and keys behind and betwixt their vicious death metal attack, but what was arguably Daath's single most distinguishing hallmark: the mystical teachings of the Jewish Kabbalah permeating their lyrics. In their place, the reconfigured Daath have saddled their new songs with perfectly acceptable, but ultimately formulaic, heavy metal topics of generalized negativity framed in violent imagery (all of them capably growled by new vocalist Sean Z). And without the symphonic flourishes, electronic beats, or industrial properties previously executed by Kameron, The Concealers projects a far less groundbreaking brand of modern death/thrash — regardless of the insistently textured and still quite imaginative (relative to the competition) contributions of rhythm guitarist Eyal Levi, particularly "Self-Corruption Manifesto," "The Unbinding Truth," and "Wilting on the Vine." In fact, only the synth-driven interlude "Duststorm," the synthetic rhythms backing "...Of Poisoned Arrows," and the metronome-like precision of drummer Kevin Talley's hands and feet hark back to those once dominant industrial flavors. All this being said, if there's any one component still guaranteed to keep Daath in the American extreme metal game, it's the solo guitar work of Emil Werstler — a human highlight reel who single-handedly rescues even the dullest song with his astonishing balance of taste and virtuosity, while pushing the aforementioned standouts (plus the semi-black metal flurry of "Day of Endless Night," where he ironically shows off jazz chops) to the next level. In the end, it will likely be his and Levi's formidable six-string interplay that will get Daath past this latest, radical shift of musical direction to the fourth stage of their so-far eventful career, whatever that ends up sounding like.