Underoath

Live albums traditionally run the risk of being redundant; most of the time, they’re reserved for hardcore fans who are desperate and illogical enough to shell over twenty bucks for yet another repackaging of the same material, albeit with new album artwork (this is more important than it sounds) and perhaps a free ringtone or locker poster to top things off. Those releases tend to fall in the same category as the obnoxious “deluxe editions”—complete and utter wastes of hard-earned cash dressed up like the definitive fan package. Underoath’s release has a greater draw to it, however, if only because of the accompanying DVD showcasing this rising metalcore band during a live set-list. It’s a full production, an entire night’s worth of these talented young artists’ frenzied brand of artistry, and while it might not be everyone’s particular cup of tea, Survive presents the perfect opportunity to find out if you’re going to be the next fan to jump on the bandwagon.

The opening track, “Returning Empty Handed” (taken, as much of this album is, from Underoath’s most recent effort, Define The Great Line) is actually introduced by the ambient post-rocker “Salmarnir,” a delightful experiment in melancholia made up of distant Icelandic vocals quoting a scripture from Psalms, before exploding in a burst of what can only be described as controlled chaos—a dance between drums and bass, led by Spencer Chamberlain’s desperate shrieks of prayer. It’s this opener that clearly defines what these youngsters are all about, particularly in terms of their “mission statement” or musical approach.

As Chamberlain himself writes much of the material, it is a valid assumption to view his inflections as inspired by the past—particularly a drug addiction that he has recently brought to the public eye in hopes of stopping others from taking that disconcerting path themselves. The lyrics are darkest when they’re intensely psychological, painting pictures of dingy back rooms, leaky faucets, people crawling along the floors, and other poetic indicators of mental distress. This is tough music to swallow, even if one tries to forget the context and get lost in the heavy rhythmic poundings, especially since shafts of light so rarely shine through the midst of the darkness. Luckily, we have Chamberlain and his drummer, the wildly popular Aaron Gillespie (of The Almost) as a tour guide. With Spencer’s guttural wails and Aaron’s gentle calls, Survive, Kaleidoscope becomes a carnival of sorts, a series of showcases both frightening and inspiring.

We’re at the lowest of lows throughout compositions such as “Moving for the Sake of Motion” (an impressively played anthem that dissolves into a hectic, cymbal-driven finale and last call for salvation) and “Everyone Looks So Good from Here” (which is the closest cross between math-rock and hardcore that I’ve seen since The Dillinger Escape Plan first hit my stereo). But that isn’t to say there aren’t emotionally high points. “To Whom It May Concern” and “You’re Ever So Inviting” are two of the more hopeful interludes between all the sufferings.

This project isn’t going to convert new fans from those who’ve already heard Define The Great Line and rejected it, but it’s definitely an inspired album that rearranges familiar material, making it unpredictable and fresh on the ears of both old fans and newcomers alike. Thematically and lyrically speaking, the latest work from Underoath is some of the most versatile and definitely the most powerful rock music making waves in both the Christian and secular markets. These guys, and those who think like them—namely, in terms of presenting harsh realities from biblical perspectives—are the future of Christianity in art. Keep an eye open; they’re going to take over the world.

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