This is everything I want from Type O Negative. Long, meandering train-of-thought tracks full of sludgy, messy riffs, distorted bass, about fifteen types of vocals and the occasional bit of sitar. Across these ten tracks Type O Negative prove they are a force to be reckoned with after 2003's lackluster Life Is Killing Me, punking their way through 77-odd minutes of metal, speed and an undeniable vitality, despite the album's misleading title. No prank intros, no filler instrumentals, no covers (save for a cheeky sampling of "Hey Jude") and crucially no drum machine. Yes, we're finally able to hear what Johnny Kelly smashing skins actually sounds like, and while he's no Sal Abruscato, he's more than capable.
Another reviewer said that this is a very happy Type O record, and I have to agree, though it seems a strange thing to level at such a willfully morbid outfit. There is a joy to almost every song on this album that eclipses past moroseness. Gone are the laments of "Everything Dies" or "Burnt Flowers Fallen" (from the band's Magnum Opus, October Rust) in favour of the bouncy riffing on "Tripping A Blind Man" or the Eastern-laced outro on single "The Profits Of Doom". Musically, you probably know what to expect: a lot of bent notes, strained guitar, fuzzy bass, O Steele's chanted military-style vocals against the straight up singing of Kenny Hickey, all driven by the doom-metal-cum-crust-punk drumming and instantly hooky and memorable melodies. October Rust is one of the catchiest metal records I've had the pleasure to listen to, but the songs on here give it a run for its money, many of them sticking in your head after only a listen or two. The quickest album I've got into in along time.
Type O seem to be in a league of their own. Despite their long history, there's not much in the way of imitators, which helps each new release feel fresh. I waited eagerly for a new album before hearing the news this morning that Pete has died. He sings "I can't believe I died last night/ oh God I'm dead again" on this album's title track, and with a quick thought spared for that prank in 2005, today that lyric bears a cruel, almost comic relevance that I imagine wouldn't be lost on the man, given he and his compatriots' blacker-than-black sense of humour. As it is, Dead Again now stands as a swansong for this bloody great band, and for the loss of Type O Negative and Peter Steele, the metal world has become a much less fun place. I'll miss this band more than I would, I think, any other