Robin

Before discussing “Robin,” I’d like to express my hatred toward the birds in which this album is named after. Killing a robin in Michigan (my home) is illegal regardless of what happens, and I almost perished to such jocosity when one of those red-breasted motherfuckers flew into my car head-on; a cop saw this, and I was almost fined because of the bird’s illogical suicide. Hearing Farmakon’s second full-length offering conjured these doltish memories, mainly because they both share a few common genes: stupidity, annoyance, sketchiness, and a strong emphasis on denying reason. Urine-soaked progressive death metal has never seemed so poorly crafted once fans of the genre look at Famakon’s mindless ideology. Be sure to keep those rubber sheets close!

In a can, “Robin” is identical to Opeth in every slice, slither, cut, and bruise. When discussing the “death metal” aspects, there are a collection of dull riffs that repeat endlessly, low growls that nobody cares about, one-dimensional percussion, a bass doing whatever it wants, and awful solos lacking soul. After experimenting with such worthlessness, Farmakon soon depends on soft transitions (probably where they acquire the “progressive” label) that are calming, but also empty and uninspired due to the blank atmosphere they emit. Clearly, this record isn’t a tribute to Opeth, but is actually the squad in every form; that’s how fucking unoriginal Farmakon is throughout our putrid wrongdoing.

As for vocals, expect some goon copying Mikael Åkerfeldt’s low growls and clean singing until you just can’t tell whether or not he’s really fronting the faction. Pretty pathetic, because the vocalist here doesn’t have a single drop of individuality in his performance, yet I’m compelled to understand why these tools need to be Opeth! No bright rays reflect from any angle or demonstrated abyss, albeit a good riff every three songs or so, but who cares? Ninety percent of this bowel movement is completely void of substance, and generally pisses on progressive death metal’s evolutionary sound, along with everything considered credible within its community. Overall, I’d describe it as a group of gentlemen bent on imitating Opeth: delusional and talentless. Oh the irony!

“Robin” is a very special album, but I don’t mean it positively or anything of that nature; it’s quite mentally disabled in several areas, often times found drooling and immobilized from internal issues within Farmakon’s plagued redundancy. Normally, a tad of goodness lives inside at least one particular portion on a lackluster effort, yet “Robin” manages to assassinate everything enjoyable, which leaves this feeble band presenting items only good for inducing narcolepsy. Problems are like rats in a sewer throughout “Robin,” and you can bet avoiding Farmakon’s second full-length will certainly be the smartest option. Your financial backbone will thank you, trust me.

This review was written for: www.Thrashpit.com

Opeth are one of the bands that probably draw the most polarised reactions in the metal community nowadays. Opinions either sound like "They must be the cure for cancer!" or "They'd be the devil incarnate if they weren't so boring!". One of the most common complaints thrown their way is that they go on repeating themselves for way too long - that's sort of understandable, if you're going to dislike something, less of it is always better than more.

Yeah, I realise this isn't an Opeth review, but hang on - this setup has some merit. See, it's almost like Farmakon are out to address this imbalance. From the moment that 'Time-Tables' comes barrelling through, it's evident where the primary influence is coming from. There's the familiar chord sequences and riffing, the deep rumble of the vocals and the slightly jazzy leads here and there. Only, what it sounds like is an abbreviated version of the same. No elaborate setups in order, no fancy arrangements, and almost inspiring in its brevity.

That's not to say that Farmakon forgo the longer pieces altogether - 'Sixty-Nine' goes on for over seven and half minutes (you know, they probably just came up with that title so reviewers could make dodgy statements like above), giving it space to build up and fade out in a manner that I'm more accustomed to with this sound. Ditto for the last song, The Mentally Disabled and the Artist, a comparitively sprawling instrumental that takes its sweet time moving from one place to another, and doing a decent job of it in the process.

Also, to imply that the entire template for Farmakon's formula is a direct copy wouldn't be entirely fair. There are other influences that aren't too hard to spot, like the extreme metal blasting that pops up now and then, the quirky King Crimson instrumental parts in the middle of 'Faint Light' and the weirdly awesome smooth jazz sections on 'Recondite'.

It's still unlikely that I could recommend this to anyone with a healthy dislike for Opeth. There's basically too much similarity and they do suffer by comparison as well, since they're not quite as proficient as the Swedish juggernauts. Marko Eskola's voice doesn't quite have the richness of Akerfeldt's voice, clean or growled, and Toni Salminen's leads, while pleasant, aren't really as intelligent or polished as Lindgren's or Akerfeldt's.

If you've somehow managed to avoid ever listening to Opeth so far and are justifiably pissed at my comparitive style of description, here goes: Farmakon's breed of metal juxtaposes aggressive barrages of riffing with occasional very mellow moments, the vocals shifting between a death metal growl and a clean singing voice. If you think that concept is intriguing, listen to that band that I've already mentioned here 4 times. If you like them, come back and listen to this.

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