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mastodon blood mountain pdf download free Blood Mountain. The two-year long-wait is over, and those Mastodon fans encouraged but leery of the slicker production of Leviathan over Remission will be even more bemused, or downright bewildered, by Blood Mountain, the band's first foray into major-label territory since signing with Warner Brothers' Reprise imprint (after all, this was the label conceded to Frank Sinatra as his own when he threatened to leave it). Blood Mountain is everything fans both hoped for and feared. Mastodon has dug even deeper in its foray into prog metal, but without losing an ounce of their power, literacy, or willingness to indulge in hardcore punk, doom, and death metal. Like Leviathan, Blood Mountain is both melodic and downright raging in places. Matt Bayles is in the producer's chair once more and he's encouraged this Georgia quartet -- Bränn Dailor (drums), Brent Hinds (guitar and vocals), Bill Kelliher (guitar and vocals), and Troy Sanders (bass and vocals) -- to take it to the limit. And they have. Blood Mountain indulges and goes deep into the territory of prog metal beats and quests and spiritual revelations that have less to do with Tolkein-ism and more to do with Conan-ism. There are utterly beautiful melodic passages woven into the heaviness that are reminiscent of Thin Lizzy's dual guitar lyricism -- and the band has confessed to digging Phil Lynott and company. The vocals -- with guest spots from Neurosis' Scott Kelly, the Mars Volta's Cedric Bixler-Zavala, and Queens of the Stone Age's Josh Homme -- are mixed way upfront and the number of sheer stylistic changes is dizzying. No, Mastodon should not lose their street cred over this. For every old fan alienated, a new one will step into the gap and there will be throngs of new ones, more than likely. Why? Simply because this band does the technical thing as well or better than Meshuggah without sacrificing a bit of the black blood which courses through their veins toward their dark thrash metal hearts. The set opens with the completely in-the-red thrashcore metal of "The Wolf Is Loose," complete with a chanted chorus. As the guitars twin and scream, bass and drums chop away at convention. Tempo changes, from fast to faster to a refrain that gives the listener time to shout along. The doubled leads and repetition in the verse are countered by the swelling, pulsating thud from the drum kit. Lyrically, it appears that Mastodon is trying to create a new mythological present. But the bridge goes into the netherworld with actual sung vocals and angular, elliptical phrases that defy elucidation. The echoey sound effects on the drums at the opening of "Crystal Skull" quickly give way to a plodding power metal riff. "Sleeping Giant" comes out of the gate, slowly, dreamily, seductively, there are digital delays on the guitars that gather tension as they (relatively) whisper by, and create an ambience that crosses early Black Sabbath and Opeth. It's the vocals that are most remarkable, however, sung cleanly to a slow tempo, each word is distinct and the effect is nearly hypnotic as the strange, self-created cultic myth is further woven into a web of dislocation, epic ambivalence, mystery, and power. Prog metal is made plain on "Capillarian Quest," where intricate patterns and bludgeoning guitar riffs vie for dominance but are authoritatively held in Mastodon's deafening balance. "Circle Cysquatch," with its bloodcurdling extreme thrash and burn, tips it toward a virtual creation idea born of pagan rites, blood sacrifice, the spirits of extinct species, and the hollow ring of organized religion, all given their freedom here to drift back to prehistory and the days of fire and rage in the rough and tumble founding of "civilization." On it goes. Mastodon seeks no easy answers but poses dozens of questions about origin, and "culture." Forget "thinking man's metal," this is metal, period, and the guys that make it think. The music, as varied and tumultuous and, in places utterly beautiful as it is, place the band beyond the pale -- check the intro to "Bladecatcher" before it falls apart into pure chaos and cacophony where lyrics and themes are barely articulated in the hammering thunder of apocalyptic noise. Sound effects that perhaps are the voices of the spirits themselves make themselves heard in the din -- but indecipherably. "Colony of Birchmen" and "Hunters of the Sky" are both prototypically metal and act as the album's hinge pieces, where Mastodon completes its achievement and establish a new heavy metal. "This Mortal Soul," with its elongated beginning and utter lyricism may alienate those who live for heaviness alone, but it will attract those who can see outside the genre's subgenres. The set closes with "Pendulous Skin," a track that amounts to a densely populated power ballad with gorgeous guitar soloing, and a major/minor key chord progression (instead of riffs and a Hammond B-3) played by Bayles followed by a long silence, where at the very end, a "fan" letter is read and responded to. What does it add up to? Something old and something new, a heavy metal that's utterly gargantuan to wrestle with because it actually moves the style into brand new territory, an unfamiliar terrain which will accord it much name calling and crying of "sellout" by the unwashed masses who are more conservative about their steely brand of "folk music" than the Newport crowd was about Dylan going electric. Yet, for those daring enough to take this in, there are true bloody treasures to behold and receive. If Leviathan was a masterpiece, then this is too -- only more so. Blood Mountain. Prog-metal's best band returns with a record that may be even better than its monumental Leviathan LP. Please welcome the new monsters of rock. There's plenty afoot in the metal underground-- it's the mainstream version that desperately needs a new set of heroes. While junior-high faves Ozzy Osbourne, Guns n' Roses, and Metallica look like they could no longer eat the rich without gnawing on their own fatuous fingers, Mastodon are on the cusp of arena-sized success. The Atlanta quartet's already released two excellent full-lengths, 2002's Remission and 2004's Leviathan , as well as formative material in 2001's Lifesblood EP (which resurfaced earlier this year on Call of the Mastodon ). If Blood Mountain , their brilliantly upsized and unrelenting third album, doesn't confirm their position as the greatest big-time metal crew on earth, I demand a state-by-state recount. Anyone paying attention to heavy rock knows Leviathan is held in near-religious regard in metal circles-- it's an album that tops critical checklists and makes the kids shit their pants. I've spent a lot of time listening to Leviathan and the new record in tandem, and at first I couldn't believe it myself but. Blood Mountain may be even better. No, I'm not fucking with you. These 12 new tracks operate on a similar sonic level as their predecessors: Blood Mountain has the same producer, ex-Minus the Bear/current metal tweaker Matt Bayles, and though he obviously spent a lot more time layering substrata this time around, the recording's a lovely shade of dense. Here, Mastodon's songwriting technique is refined, built upon, and doubled up, pushing the ingredients from their last album toward a more complex assault. It lands the band in totally fascinating realms: Leviathan 's post- Remission exploratory impulse picked up and sharpened, with the entire band playing rich polyrhythms at a level that (for now) appears unsurpassable. I've heard shouts that the record's just too precise. Nope. Tech for tech's sake? How? Stranger yet, some have even written that Blood Mountain doesn't have hooks. It certainly does-- especially when those syrupy, psychedelic choruses and bridges feature increasingly stunning vocal performances by Brent Hinds and Troy Sanders, who've further developed as lyricists and howlers. Leviathan left listeners reaching for Moby Dick , on which it was based. Now ditching those literary analogues, Blood Mountain moves from the white whale to the band's Ahab-sized vision-quest up a fabled peak. For it, the band has concocted a conceptual world-- and like any good game of Dungeons and Dragons its journey includes trials, blizzard-condition soul searching, cannibalism, and various beasts, including a half-sasquatch cyclops ("Circle of Cysquatch") and a monster constructed from various smaller, leafy creatures that, together, form a forest ("Colony of Birchmen"). It's a fantastical trek, and it allows the group to remain on an elemental theme-- Remission was fire, Leviathan water, and Blood Mountain is earth-- while glorying in their own Maiden-sized storytelling. Considering all the farting that takes place in the band's Workhorse Chronicles DVD, I'm afraid of what they'll do for wind. Songwise, Mastodon break out of the gate with "The Wolf Is Loose", a showcase of rapid-fire technical skill and songwriting chops. As usual, the guitars jab and interweave, drummer Brann Dailor melts minds with his fills, and the switch between vocalists finds the lyrics jumping from gruff gut-checks ("The belly of the whale/ Refusal of return") to Sabbathian soul ("As the solider walks through the crimson side"). There are more compelling costume changes and time shifts than you can count-- and from there, it never lets up. Starting with Dailor, this time playing 50-gallon drums like an shadowy marching band, the hydra-fed "Crystal Skull" includes a blistering vocal assist from Neurosis' Scott Kelly.

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