Listening to the way Between the Buried and Me conduct their business on Coma Ecliptic, it bears repeating that this feels like an album you could have seen coming about eight years away, from when they kicked off fourth album Colors with 90 seconds of sparse, piano-led balladry before plunging into the dizzying brutality they were better known for.
I've long held the belief that one of the greatest risk/reward scenarios any metal band can face is the one where they take strides away from what most term "conventional" metal. It's a risk in that you stand the chance of alienating fans and/or giving the impression of a perceived attempt at growing the fan base (which, if you believe some, is one of the highest orders of sin a band can commit; just ask Metallica). Of course, the potential reward is that uptick of appreciation from new sets of ears who wouldn't have given your band the time of day otherwise (which, if you believe some, can result in a windfall of popularity that can set the stage for an entire career of artistic freedom; just ask Metallica).
That Coma Ecliptic rarely reaches the level of guttural, death metal-inspired ferocity that became as synonymous with BTBAM as their technical prowess may make it a troubling listen for those who depend on that side of the band for enjoyment. That said, it's still very much a metal record to my ears, just one that leans far more on their prog influences than their metal ones. There are still plenty of growls to be heard, still ample crunch to the songs, but the overall aesthetic is more Dream Theater and Mastodon than Nile and Meshuggah.
Weaved within its layers of sound is the central concept of a comatose character exploring past lives; this immediately brought to my mind The Mars Volta, whose avant-garde debut album De-Loused in the Comatorium also told the story of a coma, albeit in far more abstract fashion. There are some parallels to be found in some of Coma Ecliptic's more frenetic moments, though it's likely more influence was drawn from The Human Equation, a 2004 double album by Ayreon which featured Dream Theater singer James LaBrie heavily. Whatever the case, it's a well-conceived, well-performed opus from the drop; lead single and first proper track The Coma Machine comes up with at least six thrilling song ideas and chooses to explore each and every one of them.
It's a pattern that continues throughout the album, and there are so many shifts in tempo and tone that particular songs can be somewhat difficult to pin down. Through the album's many, many twists and turns, though, it's consistently engaging and interesting, which is pretty much all an album with such lofty aspirations can hope to be at first blush. Digging deeper on repeated listens reveals more and more subtleties and provides more standout moments; one of the most rewarding tracks is Turn on the Darkness, which pulls most every lever at the band's disposal over its 8½ minutes. Though erring slightly on the silly side, I found the quasi-Mr. Bungle feel of The Ectopic Stroll to be especially pleasing as well.
Then, there's the coup de grace: the ten-minute snarling behemoth Memory Palace, serving as the album's climax, is relentlessly diverse, whether roaring out anger or cooing serenity. As it builds (and builds, and builds) toward its conclusion, the song traverses an immense amount of sonic ground, striving to be the audio equivalent of a life flashing before the protagonist's eyes. It's not just massive, it's all encompassing.
Make no mistake, BTBAM are bound to draw out a few detractors for such an explicitly prog-oriented direction, and by times the constant changes in scenery can be jarring and disorienting. However, it's impossible not to respect the ambition of this record and the high rate of success in translating its subject matter to the aural theatre.
July 10, 2015 • Metal Blade
Highlights The Coma Machine • Turn On the Darkness • Memory Palace
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