Underøath

With Lost In the Sound of Separation, Underoath have truly become heavy music's equivalent of Radiohead. Much like every hipster's favorite English band, Underoath's albums are equally enigmatic and atmospheric, transcending standard genre confines and venturing into rarely charted sonic territory. If 2006's Define The Great Line was Underoath's OK Computer—the record that broke the band to a mainstream audience—then Lost In the Sound of Separation is Underoath's Kid A. In other words, even though it's a decided evolution from their last offering, Lost is a terse and haunting statement of a record that will affect fans for many years to come.

That said, Lost is a serious headtrip. Each song becomes a journey in its own right, and the album sees Underoath blossoming further into a progressively creative heavy music pioneer. "Anyone Can Dig A Hole But It Takes A Real Man to Call It Home" forges an impenetrable groove with a neck-snapping, polyrhythmic riff before crashing into propulsive percussion. Spencer Chamberlain's tortured wail remains the focal point, as it bleeds raw emotion over the cacophonous metallic backdrop. However, once the bashing stops, the band segues into a spacey breakdown complete with hazy electronics and a heartfelt verse. Of course the track ramps up again, but the strange reprieve mid-song is utterly beautiful. As Chamberlain screams, "God forgive me," it's clear that Underoath have experienced a divine growth. Check out the gospel-style refrain and handclapping in the middle of "Too Bright to See, Too Loud To Hear," it's epic. "A Fault Line, A Fault of Mine" employs an ethereal echo that simply entrances. Meanwhile, "We Are the Involuntary" and "Created Void" function as the perfect bridge between Meshuggah and Thrice, but they're still Underoath songs.

The closing track "Desolate Earth :: The End Is Here" builds a barren and dark soundscape. It's airy and inviting with its combination of electro flourishes and eerie sounds. However, the song shifts, and it becomes a chuggy lament that's as poignant as it is painful. Lyrically, Chamberlain has become more vivid than ever, especially on the masterful "Desperate Times, Desperate Measures."

Metal's a hard genre. It's easy to be too heavy and alienate the mainstream, while it's even easier to succumb to the pressure to "sell-out" and alienate the genre's core audience. However, neither inclination matters to Underoath. They've crafted a multi-layered album that requires multiple listens, but rewards the listener on each pass. They've completely separated themselves from their peers, and they've paved their way onto a new plane.

Underoath have a sound that's easy to close your eyes and get lost in. There's not much better than that. Just ask Radiohead.

—Rick Florino
09.02.08

2006's Define the Great Line proved to be a turning point for faith-based, post-hardcore/screamo outfit Underoath. While the tendency to dissolve into the abyss of angtsy emo-pop was still there, there was a darkness lurking in the nooks and crannies between the crackling snare hits and heavy "drop-d" riffing that hinted at a little pre-evolution, a notion that comes to fruition with their sixth studio record and fourth for Solid State (the metal subdivision of Tooth & Nail Records). Lost in the Sound of Separation gets off to a rocky start with its two most forgettable songs, "Breathing in a New Mentality" and "Anyone Can Dig a Hole But It Takes a Real Man to Call It Home," both of which are big, loud, mean, monotonous, and virtually interchangeable with any other formulaic "loud, quiet, scream, loud, quiet, scream" alt metal tune. However, it doesn't take long for Separation to rescue itself from painfully serious, aggro-MTV mediocrity, as those two tracks are quickly followed up by the riveting "A Fault Line, A Fault of Mine" and "Emergency Broadcast: The End Is Near," two slightly experimental, highly melodic cuts (make that four, as "Too Bright to See Too Loud to Hear" and near-instrumental closer "Desolate Earth: The End Is Near" are mini-masterpieces of hope and anguish) that not only signal growth for the Florida ensemble, but deliver on the dark promises that haunted Define the Great Line, exposing a more mature, post-apocalyptic nightmare that manages to give equal time to both loss and redemption, declaring allegiance to neither. ~ James Christopher Monger, Rovi