Norma Jean

Norma Jean is firmly locked in the metal scene. With Bless the Martyr and Kiss the Child, they established themselves as something like unto a musical bloodbath, with strong songwriting talents and a legendary live show. Surviving line-up changes and shifts in musical identity, Norma Jean release their fourth album with a promise to yet again shake up what makes them so popular with metalheads.

The Anti Mother is all about carnage and dissonance, which in and of itself is nothing new, but the way sounds clang and clash and bounce off of each other is inspiring if not frightening to those who are unfamiliar with how brutal these guys can be. If there’s a shred of hardcore fidelity in this album, though, then there’s loads of sonically poignant and definitively insightful lyricism to grant all the noise credence.

Norma Jean borrows a page from former lead singer Josh Scogin’s (now of The Chariot) book with “Vipers, Snakes, & Actors,” which mixes a tragic, apocalyptic bass line with vocal patterns similar to Scogin’s own popular shout of “The devil is in Atlanta, army surrounded.” Whether by accident or intent of homage, the song is so delightfully reminiscent of material from The Chariot’s debut album that it loses points for originality, but not for spirit. The whole composition is an exultant enterprise that won me over on sheer energy.

“Self Employed Chemist” is another winner, one that sports a strong melodic hook and something of a sing-along chorus; Jean-fans, be forewarned—the bulk of this album rests firmly in the territory ranged on “Chemist,” one minute hectic and tormented, the next explosively anthemic. It’s possible that by bravely shifting tone to the more symphonic, the group could lose a small portion of its fan base. Even so, the change of pace is much appreciated, and it sheds new light on the desperation of the intensity of tracks such as “Birth of the Anti Mother,” preventing the shouts, pleas, and screams from sounding run of the mill. (On a side note, I love the line “Choke that witch out!”)

The overall feel of the project is a stripped down, intensely simple one—unpolished vocals, insanely distorted guitar, and murderous percussion. Musically speaking, it’s concise and engaging; to put it simply, we know what to expect from Norma Jean on the sonic front. Complaints have to be registered, however, with the lack of what I have decided to call thematic brevity. It’s not that the album is too long or the lyrics too pretentious—again, remember that I complimented Norma Jean for their insightfulness—the problem is, all the songs tie into basic themes of loss, the facade, and truth. All of them. In this era, it’s nice to see such a blatant search for truth; the problem is, unless some conclusions are reached or recognized, then eventually the lyricism (while strong) becomes superfluous, as track after track we’re subjected to different ways to describe deception and falsehood without any real change. Standing alone, each track is a winner (both musically and lyrically), but when set firmly side by side, the poetry all seems to conjure the same ideas and doesn’t break new ground, particularly in the later portion of the album.

Norma Jean haven’t changed the world with Anti Mother, and they’re essentially providing the same chaotic rock (with a few exceptions) that they’ve been making for four projects now (more, if you count their work as Luti-Kriss). Nothing here is mind-blowing, but it’s not lazy or tiresome either. The shift to more melodic sentiments is nice, and will attract new fans while losing some old ones. Bottom line? If you’re into metal, you’ll like if not love this. If you’re not, then why did you even bother reading this review? Norma Jean isn’t for everyone, but they know how to please their target audience. Nice work, guys. It’s not a masterpiece, but it’s great all the same.

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