11/23/12

G//Z/R - PLASTIC PLANET


Any metalhead worth his salt knows about G//Z/R.  What does that even mean?  I'm worth my salt...seriously, what does that mean?  Why salt, and what if my salt is worthless?  Am I worthless?  Is the value of a sodium-based crystalline mineral directly tied to acumen?  My brain hurts.  So G//Z/R is a side project led by Black Sabbath bassist and all-around badass Geezer Butler.  Nevermind the fact that the band's name is spelled differently on each release.  I'm calling this a G//Z/R record.  Emancipated in 1995, Plastic Planet should have left an austral, sweltering crater in the earth's crust.  But it didn't.  It should have appealed to obdurate traditionalists and vernal grooveheads alike.  But it didn't.

I should be knee-deep in pussy.  But I'm not.  My point is, this album fed proto-sludge through a 90's filter, and the resultant riffage struck a balance between Paranoid and Demanufacture.  I referenced a Fear Factory opus because Burton Bell lends his caveman vocals to this slammin' set of tunes.  That's why I find it hard to believe that G//Z/R flew under the radar.  Is diminutive marketing to blame?  It may have something to do with the outfit's capricious, herky-jerky line-up.  Bell exited the fold for 1997's Black Science, and the project was lodged on the backburner for eleven years (Geezer's other gig took precedence, and rightfully so).  Still, Plastic Planet is strong enough to subjugate a prolonged period of dormancy.

Meat and potatoes.  That's what the music reminds me of.  I'm pretty sure that ending a sentence with "of" is frowned upon, but fuck it.  Today, I'm a morphology mutineer!  Earlier, I intimated that this record blended the sonic quirks of Paranoid and Demanufacture.  And that's accurate.  The riffs weigh a ton, but there is plenty of variegation where tempo is concerned.  On the slow side of the spectrum, we have the monolithic "Catatonic Eclipse" and the baleful "Seance Fiction."  Meanwhile, "House of Clouds" and the savage title track serve up double-bass brutality courtesy of Journey skinsman Deen Castronovo.  Yep, Journey.  Needless to say, Geezer's bottom end can be felt in the organic, full-bodied production.  No compression here!

Bell's throaty screams are as magnificent as ever, though his precarious clean vox can be disorienting.  He wouldn't reach his meridian until Obsolete.  That's not a bad thing per se; I'm just biased towards Obsolete (it's my personal favorite Fear Factory album).  Squawks and/or imputations?  I'm not big on "Cycle of Sixty," an acoustic ballad that has "b-side" written all over it.  Also, the lyrics are spotty.  "Drive Boy Shooting," in particular, comes off as self-important drivel.  "Detective 27" focuses on Batman.  Okay.  These are minor pitfalls, you understand.  Plastic Planet will kick you in the balls.  Recommended to fans of Black Sabbath, Fear Factory, Pantera, Machine Head, Crowbar, Pentagram and Die Antwoord.  Well, maybe not Die Antwoord.

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