REVIEW: Filter, Title of Record (Reprise)
- Andrew Duncan
It's been a wild and bumpy road for Richard Patrick. A rock star in its true definition and frontman for the mainstream aggro-metal outfit Filter, Patrick has been through a lot in the four years that separated the band's debut release Short Bus, and the new album Title Of Record. Beyond all of the guitars and glitz -- the sex, drugs and rock-and-roll -- is a man simply trying to find himself.
In the four years that passed between albums, two were focused on touring. The other two were more complicated. There were crumbling relationships with females, a close call to the band's extinction when Filter's second half, Brian Liesegang, left, and then there was the drug use that led Patrick aboard an unknown commercial airplane only to dissolve into a violent rage. All of these incidents caused strenuous delays, and the album that was on Alternative Press' "Most Anticipated Albums of the Year" for two years in a row has finally become a reality.
With all of the expectations and anticipation, is Title of Record exactly what the public was hoping for? Yes, and, well, no.
When the band broke away from being a part of the Nine Inch Nails touring force, Filter surprised many and astonished more when they released the loud and heavy Short Bus. With Title of Record, there is little change -- the reason Liesegang left in the first place. The album does pack a punch in the first minutes with the song "Sand." The band quickly takes a relapse with territory they know best. In "Welcome To The Fold," the band brings back the muddled bass lines that is identified their prestigious single "Hey Man, Nice Shot," from anything else in radio land. The album dives off into a valley of monotonous power chords and song structures that are afraid to take a step forward.
This time around there is some acoustic diversions from the powerful power-chord exhaust fumes that stereotype the band. "Take A Picture" recalls the story of the uncharted flight experience, while "Miss Blue" remembers the crumpled relationship.
The most experimental point in Title of Record is "Cancer," where the bass line creeps and crawls around punching drumbeats, creating a foggy atmosphere for Patrick to venture in, a great moment in the album.
In the lengthy 70 minutes that passes from the distant hum of the introduction to the last pluck of an acoustic guitar, one will find moments of clarity and excitement, while others will go by unnoticed; not as anticipated as the hype portrays.
