Photo credit: Jimmy Hubbard
Anthrax never got the credit they deserved among their Big Four peers. Metallica was always smarter, Megadeth was always faster and Slayer was always heavier. Meanwhile, with their signature brand of metallic punk and cheeky lyrics, Anthrax remained the proverbial dark horse of the bunch, the irreverent cousin at the dinner party who cracked dick jokes and spilled mustard on his white shirt as the rest of the family watched with disdain.
But as the century turned, so did the tables. As the other three bands began retreading their past work and releasing albums that were contrived at best and self-parody at worst, Anthrax started incorporating new elements into their sound. They dropped some of their wicked wit, discovered their love for a killer groove and began writing genuine arena anthems. The end result is For All Kings, an album that, despite some ham-fisted lyrics and synthetic production, is the best album from any member of the Big Four in years.
For All Kings picks up where the band’s last album, 2011’s Worship Music, left off—namely, with an intro that stalls its momentum. “You Gotta Believe” desperately wants to be an epic composition, with its choppy riffing, dizzying guitar solos and mid-song tempo change. Unfortunately, these riffs are mostly pedestrian, and Anthrax doesn’t excel at the brooding, grungy psychedelia that makes up the song’s midsection. It’s a valiant effort that ultimately falls flat.
Thankfully, Anthrax gets all their bad ideas out of their system early, regaining their footing on the mid-tempo “Monster at the End.” In both structure and title, it’s startlingly similar to Worship Music’s “In the End,” showing the band’s unbridled sense of melody and knack for pop hooks dying to burst out of their heavy metal casing.
The band hits full tilt on the title track, opening with Joey Belladonna’s heroic wail atop subtle guitar swells that fit the vaguely hymnal sound heard throughout Anthrax’s recent work. Belladonna’s vocal cords have evaded the wear-and-tear of his peers, instead becoming deeper, richer and more emotive with age. The sneering, hyperactive punk who once declared “Talking to you is like clapping with one hand!” now sings with the grandiosity of Bruce Dickinson or Ronnie James Dio (for whom Belladonna’s affection is no secret).
One of the most impressive aspects of For All Kings is how rarely it resembles a full-on thrash album. Instead, Anthrax often churns out melodic hard rockers like “Breathing Lightning,” with beautiful guitar leads and soaring choruses tailor-made for stadium sing-alongs. The band practices incredible restraint on the nearly eight-minute “Blood Eagle Wings,” whose deliberate pacing, dime-stop tempo changes and lightning-fast guitar solos hearken back to the multi-part thrash epics of yesteryear.
Of course, they can still rock with abandon. “Suzerain” rips open with a stunning breakdown courtesy of drummer Charlie Benante, whose versatility and virtuosity are nearly unmatched today. His double-bass work on the last minute of “Defend Avenge” is jaw-dropping, as is the song’s “Angel of Death”-inspired outro riff. The band recruited former Shadows Fall guitarist Jonathan Donais for lead duties on this album, and he dutifully packs his solos full of technical wizardry—and even a flash of soul. If anything, Donais proves that before it got bastardized by synthesizers and binary riffs, early metalcore (otherwise known as the New Wave of American Heavy Metal) was actually a logical progression from vintage thrash.
For All Kings is less clumsy and pandering than Metallica’s last legitimate album, Death Magnetic. It’s got fewer crotchety political tirades than any of Megadeth’s recent work. (It also doesn’t have “Burn!”) It is unequivocally better than anything Slayer has released since 1990, point-blank. In closing song “Zero Tolerance,” a breakneck thrash extravaganza that takes shots at religious extremists, politicians, racists and any other despicable subset of the human race, Belladonna wails, “I am fire, I am death and I am fire, I am death, I’m out!” Regardless of your thoughts on Anthrax in regards to their peers or on the general state of modern-day thrash, one thing is clear: This band knows how to make an impact. You’ve got to admire that.
But as the century turned, so did the tables. As the other three bands began retreading their past work and releasing albums that were contrived at best and self-parody at worst, Anthrax started incorporating new elements into their sound. They dropped some of their wicked wit, discovered their love for a killer groove and began writing genuine arena anthems. The end result is For All Kings, an album that, despite some ham-fisted lyrics and synthetic production, is the best album from any member of the Big Four in years.
For All Kings picks up where the band’s last album, 2011’s Worship Music, left off—namely, with an intro that stalls its momentum. “You Gotta Believe” desperately wants to be an epic composition, with its choppy riffing, dizzying guitar solos and mid-song tempo change. Unfortunately, these riffs are mostly pedestrian, and Anthrax doesn’t excel at the brooding, grungy psychedelia that makes up the song’s midsection. It’s a valiant effort that ultimately falls flat.
Thankfully, Anthrax gets all their bad ideas out of their system early, regaining their footing on the mid-tempo “Monster at the End.” In both structure and title, it’s startlingly similar to Worship Music’s “In the End,” showing the band’s unbridled sense of melody and knack for pop hooks dying to burst out of their heavy metal casing.
The band hits full tilt on the title track, opening with Joey Belladonna’s heroic wail atop subtle guitar swells that fit the vaguely hymnal sound heard throughout Anthrax’s recent work. Belladonna’s vocal cords have evaded the wear-and-tear of his peers, instead becoming deeper, richer and more emotive with age. The sneering, hyperactive punk who once declared “Talking to you is like clapping with one hand!” now sings with the grandiosity of Bruce Dickinson or Ronnie James Dio (for whom Belladonna’s affection is no secret).
One of the most impressive aspects of For All Kings is how rarely it resembles a full-on thrash album. Instead, Anthrax often churns out melodic hard rockers like “Breathing Lightning,” with beautiful guitar leads and soaring choruses tailor-made for stadium sing-alongs. The band practices incredible restraint on the nearly eight-minute “Blood Eagle Wings,” whose deliberate pacing, dime-stop tempo changes and lightning-fast guitar solos hearken back to the multi-part thrash epics of yesteryear.
Of course, they can still rock with abandon. “Suzerain” rips open with a stunning breakdown courtesy of drummer Charlie Benante, whose versatility and virtuosity are nearly unmatched today. His double-bass work on the last minute of “Defend Avenge” is jaw-dropping, as is the song’s “Angel of Death”-inspired outro riff. The band recruited former Shadows Fall guitarist Jonathan Donais for lead duties on this album, and he dutifully packs his solos full of technical wizardry—and even a flash of soul. If anything, Donais proves that before it got bastardized by synthesizers and binary riffs, early metalcore (otherwise known as the New Wave of American Heavy Metal) was actually a logical progression from vintage thrash.
For All Kings is less clumsy and pandering than Metallica’s last legitimate album, Death Magnetic. It’s got fewer crotchety political tirades than any of Megadeth’s recent work. (It also doesn’t have “Burn!”) It is unequivocally better than anything Slayer has released since 1990, point-blank. In closing song “Zero Tolerance,” a breakneck thrash extravaganza that takes shots at religious extremists, politicians, racists and any other despicable subset of the human race, Belladonna wails, “I am fire, I am death and I am fire, I am death, I’m out!” Regardless of your thoughts on Anthrax in regards to their peers or on the general state of modern-day thrash, one thing is clear: This band knows how to make an impact. You’ve got to admire that.
Today. From "For All Kings" Tour
Yesterday. Or specifically 1987
