Fresco Lungs

Finland: the least popular of the three largest Scandinavian land forms, known primarily for its bizarre mix of bands including such distinct delights as Demilich and Finntroll. Phlegethon: a member of Finland’s earliest metal mongrels that, while full of promise, would never materialize into anything more than an above-average metal act. Phelgethon plays a mix of mostly mid-paced, sometimes slow/sometimes speedy death metal that merges a number of related riffing styles–specifically, black metal (Celtic Frost), speed metal (Slayer), and naturally, Scandinavian death metal (Dismember). "Fresco Lungs's" guitars groove, grind, and send out striking squeals along with a sufficient stash of short, skittish, and mildly melodic/satisfying solos. In fact, “Fresco Lung’s” main attractions are the abovementioned guitar work and the bass player’s vicious vocals. Mr. Nyblom’s wretched roars reinforce the overall repulsiveness that this Autopsy-esque collection of electric currents effectively encapsulates. Unfortunately, the amount of anomalous and memorable moments is almost mashed out of one’s mind when examined with the also-apparent manifestation of mediocre melodies. Truly though, “Fresco Lung’s” fatal flaw is the frequency of failed attempts at deviation from the accepted musical forms amongst the death metal denomination. Take for instance the obnoxiously loud and out-front synthesizer that suppresses “The Golden Face’s,” cycling chorus (quite a shame too, as those simple synth sections could sound cool in a smaller and strictly supportive role), the album’s unnecessary, effect-laden ending that leaves a lasting scar of frustration on the listener’s consciousness, or the completely out of place shipwreck entitled “Encapsulation of the Ark of the Covenant.” This travesty tries to combine electronica influences and basic dance beats with a strange selection of speed metal riffs that are sometimes slowed down to match the drummer’s boring dance beats (seriously, WTF?) See kids, let these lads from Phelgethon be an ever-present example--sometimes experimentation can be simultaneously scintillating and satisfying (see: small successes like the pea-sized portion of clean vocals and acoustic guitar on “Ornaments”), but silly tripe like “Encapsulation of the Ark of the Covenant” is bound to backfire and embarrass any listener that’s subjected to such foolishness in addition to the artists that ineffectually tried to transgress their talents (though the artists’ embarrassment generally surfaces five or six years after said offense). Lastly, “Fresco Lungs’” only other distracting/detracting element is Mr.Pyykkö’s painfully dry and unpleasantly plodding drum patterns. Phlegethon’s other instrumentalists are at worst competent at their chosen crafts, but Mr. Pyykkö’s performance can’t even pass as painless.

Poor Phelgethon, these teenagers had plenty of unborn potential that might have birthed beautiful buds laced with bludgeoning beats and bestial bursts of air bound to savage sounds and kept erect by strong strands of stem-like strumming, but instead, their definite deficiencies only destroyed their chance to claim a meaningful career.