CRIME SCENE

While reading Lazland's rather Freudian in-depth (how deep would that be be?) review, I could not help rekindling images of the television series Vienna Blood, where the two protagonists are a slick Austrian detective and his Jewish psychiatrist cohort in a pre-WW1 setting, who solve rather grisly murder cases together. This RPWL album may well serve as a modern soundtrack, in light of the fact this German band has been in legal trouble before, with the Wanted album released in 2014. I am also reminded of Viennese singer Falco's ripping rendition of "Jeanny", a masterfully cruel song about a deranged mind stalking ruthlessly (and not about rape as was suggested at the time in 1985). While I must humbly admit that I can do a wicked imitation of a heavily accented Serbo-Croatian shrink, I feel no need to even dare attempt to upgrade Lazland's diagnosis of the murky lyrical content. Just take my pharmaceuticals, perhaps toss in a few well-placed electro-shocks, and just concentrate on the musical side of things of this beguiling effort.

The aptly titled "Victim of Desire" serves as a perfect aural anaesthesia, with a swooping and modern entrance, that is both chaotic and moodily cerebral, with long-time patients Kalle Wallner on guitars, drum meister Marc Turiaux, vocalist, and ivory man Yogi Lang, all locked in their studio gaol with newcomer bassist Markus Gruetzner, who really dazzles throughout this penitence. Through the 8 minute + epic, all the now classic RPWL ingredients are firmly in place, locked in with huge melodies, first-rate singing and exemplary mood and atmosphere. Acoustic guitar serenity greets "Red Rose", the overall disquietingly airy and sweet beginning perhaps hiding an inner demon of some kind, as the guitar scours effusively and the 'undying' echo flutters into the heavens. This segues into "A Cold Spring Day in '22", a tingling guitar spiderwebs its way into a floating guitar jangle that proves once again what a fine axeman Kalle is, as Yogi's vocalized 'footsteps' set the eerie tale in motion, where innocence, home security and family are all extinguished in a brutal act of insanity. The main melody is accessible, in an almost insouciant manner, as if to underline how tragedy can just wait around the corner, ready to pounce. The percussive led "Life in a Cage" suggests mental desolation, forlorn anxiety, architectural compression, and controlled claustrophobia, as if a free flying bird is now doomed forevermore. The extended instrumental section is phenomenal, as the blitzing bass rumble weaves amid the depth-charged drumbeats. Wallner unleashes quite the anguished axe solo, yearning to break away and find some semblance of normalcy. The angst is palpable and disturbing.

"King of the World" is definitely the main attraction here, a nearly 13-minute behemoth of sound and fury. When a serpentine bass introduces the main theme, ably supported by shrill guitar phrasings, sizzling synth squeaks that ping and pong, echoing off the oft-scratched walls, you are prepared for the effusive vocal, letting Lang tell his gloomy tale. This piece may well be one of the band's finest moments ever, as musically it is absolute dynamite in all facets of creativity. French 17th century philosopher Blaise Pascal's monumental essay "Pensées" could have a soundtrack for his masterful analysis of the human condition (please look it up, if you wish). The sweeping mellotron strings evoke a sense of imminent tempest, as the bass sneaks between the grey clouds and the thunderous drum nastily snap branches off the tress. The bombastic finale is pure, unadulterated emotion, powerfully imposing, truth finally revealed. "Find a way to be Alive ? for one night". The final cut (oops, sorry, Rog!) offers a slash of the wrists guitar expression that shoulders the cacophony of despair, the swampy lead, the choppy drums, and the blood all over the place singing, all together make for a most appropriate conclusion. The extended mid-section guitar solo is suitably frantic, delirious, and yearning for escape. The synthesizer venture takes the track on a slippery slope onto the dark side of the room, a genuine apology, perhaps even regret. The track acts abruptly, as if the imaginary guillotine has just put an end to all this misery. Silence.

4.5 evil ways (Roll it, Carlos)