The Death of Your Perfect World
Most of my complaints about Buried Alive are rendered moot by virtue of what they represent.
I will give them credit and my undying gratitude for writing a group of tight, heavy songs with attention to excellent song structure and riffing. However, I’ve heard it all before.
Buried Alive work within the confines of the Hardcore-crossed-with-Death-Metal hybrid style that Earth Crisis is taking to the bank. So while I applaud Buried Alive for doing their thing with shitloads of conviction and, yes, intensity, their “thing” doesn’t hold my attention for all too long. But I bet Buried Alive didn’t set out to reinvent the Hardcore wheel, they probably just set out to write some songs for the “scene.” Mission accomplished. And while I carp on about lack of originality and one-dimensional songs, Buried Alive just fire back with a line from “Worthless:” “Your self-satisfying ridicule makes me sick. Condescending, contradictive. I wait for you to burn.” Point taken.
One final point I have to make about this record and indeed the whole Victory scene. The excess levels of testosterone lingering over the Victory roster are worrying. Too often a well-intentioned political song becomes the self-righteous howl of the white male, drowning out all other voices.
Victory Records, P.O. Box 146546, Chicago, IL 60614; http://www.victoryrecords.com