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Staind – Confessions of the Fallen

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Staind – Confessions of the Fallen

by Oliver on October 4, 2023 in album

It’s Been Awhile: After successfully establishing himself in the MAGA country market, Springsteen fan and chief sympath Aaron Lewis reactivates Confessions of the Fallen also his old band again.

That since the self-titled, seventh stainalbum twelve years have passed (and since then Sal Giancarelli took over from Jon Wysocki on drums) is actually only clear through a few, largely carefully introduced electronic elements in the sound: Was Any of It Real? pumps a sedative, booming beat with a slow-motion industrial club atmosphere into the verse, Out of Time Despite the trappy, rattling decorations, it remains a boring, dragging routine and the successful one, but it lasts too long The Fray Away from the chorus, it nestles in atmospheric Nine Inch Nails textures.
Apart from that, everything remains as usual stain – just that this is the songwriting of Confessions of the Fallen but noticeably more convincing and, reinforced by the compact playing time of 35 minutes, more consistent than on most of the band’s releases since Break the Cycle von 2001.

It’s so damn catchy that it’s deeply tuned, Korn‘esque Nu Metal riff leading to the catchy melody Lowest in Me With a typical signature, establishes the standard of the record on which post-grungy alternative rock autopilots like In This Condition or that of Puddle of Mudd synthesized Hate Me Too solid movement all around, while balladic moments like Here and Now and Better Days break out of the angry heaviness with pathos and kitschy strings, which at the other end of the spectrum are shouted into metalcore-esque paint-by-numbers inserts Cycle of Hurting want to point out things in a decidedly harsh way.
Confessions of the Fallen In this respect, despite the quality of the opening phase not being able to maintain the quality of the opening phase, it could be a completely competent comeback that easily exceeds expectations, but the overall picture is, on the one hand, clouded by the washed-out sound of the production, which robs the instruments of a hell of a lot of precision, conciseness and energy but from the annoyingly penetrating pitch shifting to the clean vocals: as if the lyrics, which manage the balancing act between brutally graphic and vague abstraction, almost paradoxically without dizziness, up to the monotonous finale of the title song, were not interchangeable enough.

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