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Calling Psyopus a technical metal band is like calling Black Sabbath a fleeting British rock fad. Psyopus is strangeness incarnate – a conduit for off-kilter, robotic guitar sorcery dressed in the guise of songs.
Fortunately, the group’s third release, “Odd Senses,” strikes their strongest balance yet between unlistenable wankery and actual songwriting. Where Psyopus’ earlier offerings were laser-stripped chicken wings with nothing left to chew on, the new disc finally leaves a little meat to gnaw off the bone.
In short, it’s frenetic but listenable. If you called “Ideas of Reference” and “Our Puzzling Encounters Considered” “stupid,” you might temper your analysis of “Odd Senses” to “kinda stupid.”
This release once again showcases unlimited wow-factor, this time injecting more sampler-sized chunks of head-grooving chugs and memorable riffs – if what Chris Arp does on guitar can ever be considered a riff. It’s also rife with annoying, psychotic guitar tapping. Wild samples and spoken word collages pepper the whole shebang – incomprehensible sentences with new speakers for every word. This is the sound of schizophrenia.
The bassist, drummer and vocalist are new – it’s not a shocker that a band as stupefying as Psyopus can’t hang on to musicians. The bass and drums hold technical pace with Arp, shredding their silly, speed-obsessed skills across the 11 tracks. New frontman Brian Woodruff sounds as deranged and noisy as his predecessor.
If you don’t smash your iPod after the first song and rue the day Psyopus got a record deal, continue listening. Choosing standouts from an hour-long wall of sound is tough, but “The Burning Halo” and “X and Y” are solid.
Every Psyopus album has its pinnacle of aggravation – this time it’s “Choker Chain.” Even with the ever-present mind-crushing instrumentation, hearing “I love you” in the exact same broken, creepy voice 18 times in a row is not fun.
“A Murder to Child” is – ignore the title – the most tasteful, musical song, channeling classical composition in a creepy, jarring style that leaves behind most of the album’s acidic dissonance. Although nine minutes seems self-indulgent, the fierce violin climax and gorgeous resolution pulls it together with genius. It’s the closest “Odd Senses” comes to a soothing track of normalcy like the brilliant “Siobhanis Song” on the last album. Long-time Psyopus fans may be intrigued to see the “Imogen’s Puzzle” sequence continue with a third part on this release – although it’s a trivial, boring addition.
The chaotic beauty or blunder of Psyopus is in the ear of the beholder: Chris Arp will be a mastermind to some, a moron to others. Listen at the peril of your eardrums – and your brain.
Grade: B-
