“Shine and fade, tidal wave. Rest my bones on the ocean floor.”
It is hard to believe that the DIY-outfit from Perth that released Once We Were Lions over a decade ago with vocals on eight tracks provided by vocalist Bryant Best’s friend (Shontay Snow, who later officially joined the band) are now the prominent force that they are within the Australian core scene. 2022 sees the former UNFD band reach the hitherto peak of their evolution. After a brief experiment in independence which saw the release of their fourth studio album, A Lunar Rose (2020), Saviour have returned to another juggernaut Australian core label, Greyscale Records, who are killing it currently with bands such as Make Them Suffer, Gravemind, Alpha Wolf, and Diamond Construct. Something is undeniably in the water over there. Saviour, whilst not as invariably heavy as the aforementioned, absolutely deserves to stand alongside them, and they demonstrate as much with their latest record, Shine & Fade.
Frankly, I liked this album far more than I expected to. The potential and passion this band possesses has always been clear to see, yet that one little special something was absent for me; the only songs on A Lunar Rose that really grabbed me were “Never Sleep”, which I had eighteen months to digest before the album even came out (through no fault of the band), and the heart-wrenching “Rose”. Overall, it felt safe and lacked an edge. Fast-forward to the present: Shine & Fade is an expansion of their sound rather than a total reinvention, but it is executed wonderfully. The album artwork, equal parts beautiful and haunting, epitomises the record’s themes: happiness and wellbeing represented by light on the one hand, and the oppressive darkness that accompanies its subsequent dwindling on the other. Shontay’s vocals are mixed to sound crisper than ever, without detracting from their soft, ethereal nature, whilst the addition of vocals from bassist Chris Pearce for the first time adds a further complimentary tone. This is not a small part limited to a select couple of tracks, either, but a core component of the album. Together, they provide a beautiful melodic counterpoint to the uncleans. Bryant’s experimentation with vocal patterns lends his vocals—admittedly mostly mids—a staying power across the record.
The record kicks off with singles “Younger” and “Reshape Me”, the longest and shortest tracks respectively. The bass drop and panning shift that marks the bridge of the former is incredible, before the track drops into a beautiful melodic section wherein Chris and Shontay repeat “Take me with you” until it loses all meaning, becoming numb and despairing. This repetition of lines to lure the listener into a melancholic lull is a recurring motif throughout the record, displayed on other tracks such as “Reshape Me”, “Cynical”, and “Wishing Well”. “Reshape Me” builds on the groundwork laid down by the opening track and assaults the listener with the sonic equivalent of a seizure, interspersed panic chords invigorating the breakdown.
The first non-single, “Racing Home”, is another real taste of the technicality the addition of Curtis on guitar has brought to the band, laden with sweet riffs which transition gradually into a beautiful sliding lead that becomes the song’s centrepiece. There is something particularly enjoyable about how the chorus is delivered from both the male and female clean perspective, adding a real depth and sense of completion to the song. The breakdown fits wonderfully in the context of the song: it does not strive for an artificial, exceptional heaviness but delivers a satisfying array of chugs interspersed with crashing cymbals that complement the relative technicality that dominates the rest of the track. Bryant‘s notable switch-up in delivery sets up for the next track: “Modern Curse”. The melodic hardcore cut rounds out the first half of the record, with the first verse providing a nice twist on the juxtaposition of cleans and uncleans: Bryant and Shontay deliver several of the same lines concurrently, producing a gritty edge. The entire middle section, where the uncleans come to the fore and Bryant unleashes a tirade, is reminiscent of Counterparts, eventually reaching a crescendo in the form of a sick, djenty breakdown.
Final single “Tidal Wave” sees guitarists Daniel Reesy and Curtis Tunks absolutely flex. The song eases in with an atmospheric intro, then dives straight into a sweet, bouncy lead that does not let up for a solid two minutes when. True to Saviour formula, the frantic guitars then drop out and leave Shontay swathed in atmospheric tones. Soothing vocals, almost spoken, and the muted ambience of the mix makes it feel like the listener is drowning. As the lyrics themselves convey, this is the protagonist “sitting on the ocean floor“. The breakdown splits the eerie reverie open like coming up for air, with insane bends and a clean cymbal tone in the negative space between said notes. Michael’s kicks are pummelling. Jagged rhythms like being tossed about by waves. Then, respite. An outro of tender keys provides a sense of suffocating finality that encompasses the song. Water imagery is an oft overdone thematic crutch for a lot of core bands, and one that certainly instigates the odd eye-roll, but here it contributes to the overall packaging of the track rather than simply repeating ‘undertow’ as a cheap metaphor. It is a crushing listen, especially when paired with the recently released music video.
“Black Rosary” is a song of two parts: the first is a ballad-esque track backed by some gentle and welcome piano, and the second the last forty seconds or so, in which Bryant unleashes all the tension built over the course of the song. An unexpected breakdown connects the two, coming out of nowhere and hitting like a brick. ‘Black Rosary’ is screamed repeatedly, progressively escalating in power until it reaches a crescendo. “Cynical” is, whilst a good track within its own right, more of the same. It is at this point that even the newest listener to Saviour will have figured out their formula—and it is one that works. Not necessarily a bad thing, as their individual musicianship holds up, but something to note nonetheless. Conceptually, the declining volume in the outro fits with Shontay repeating “It’s all my fault“, but as a general detester of fadeouts I find it a small stain on a record which is otherwise paced excellently. “Wishing Well” concludes Shine & Fade nicely, skipping over Saviour’s traditional airy intro and leaping right into the fray. At first a relentless riff-fest, it progressively mellows out, overlayed again by Chris’ singing. Shontay is largely absent, though she ultimately returns to deliver the final lines of the record and quite literally ‘sing it to sleep’.
Emotion is key to the album’s composition, doing a lot of the legwork in the softer sections. Saviour have seen comparisons to Make Them Suffer, yet Shontay’s singing acts in a more melancholic than outright hallowing capacity, so the lyricism plays an important role in keeping those softer parts engaging, whether that be “Break me and reshape me into a vase so I can hold you close until I’m empty” or “Moments fall through the window but I am not so torn, I am not so broken now.” Not connecting with the raw emotion Saviour display may leave one finding the collection of songs slightly repetitive, but Shine & Fade is cathartic and overflows with passion. Simply because their sound is quintessentially Saviour does not mean to say that they have not innovated; “Tidal Wave“, with its forthright technicality, would be an unthinkable inclusion on previous records, and one which Bryant initially contended. Now, per his own words, it is his favourite.
Thirty-five minutes is the perfect length for the album, wrapping up before it overstays its welcome. The serene passages contrasting the dynamic downtuned guitars over which Bryant laments is tied to Saviour’s identity, but the formula becomes increasingly more apparent as one draws closer to the record’s conclusion. It might be surprising, then, that I found myself revisiting the album in full rather than particular tracks; the pacing and gradual progression of the album is near-perfect, the flawless undulation of melodic and aggressive throughout rarely leaving me waiting for the other facet of their sound to return. It would have been nice for one song to have fully committed to the heavier aspect which “Wishing Well” initially appeared to lean toward, but there are undeniably tracks designed to allow Bryant’s uncleans to steal the show. Shine & Fade builds gradually, culminating in a haunting and fulfilling finale. It is a dark and forlorn addition to the oeuvre of a band who have always made careful attempts to blend the bleak heaviness of metalcore with the raw emotive delivery and lyricism of melodic hardcore.
Shine & Fade will be released this Friday, April 29th, via Greyscale Records, and you can pre-order it here.
8/10