I remember being in my best friend's basement (he's guested on some old blog.tv's, Robb) playing pool and listening to albums, as we usually did. At this point in time, he was working at the California University of PA's radio station as a DJ, and as a result, got a lot of albums that were submitted as promos. Usually the station manager got to take his fill, and Robb was left with the remains, which was a lot, some weeks. Within those one week was the entire back catalogue of Between the Buried and Me. The name rang a bell with me, but I'd never listened to them, so we popped in Alaska by the band.
It was beautiful. Chaotic, but somehow dictated and controlled very well. The execution was well presented, and weird songs like "Selkies, The Endless Obsession" really resonated well. Both of our jaws were on the floor.
Past forward a year or so, and Colors drops. Now, our lives had changed. I was out of college, he was out of school and the radio biz, and we were both working at the local Spencer Gifts store in the same mall I inhabit today. Knowing this album was out, I walked down and picked it up, to give us something to listen to.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Somehow BtBaM had taken their controlled chaos and taken it up to 11, 12, 24, and 639. It was a work of art, one that was instantly treasured, and one that was going to be very, very, VERY hard to top. This piece of work was absolutely breathtaking.
I can recall specifically driving home from dropping off an now ex-girlfriend of mine, listening to "White Walls" on a rainy night in early November, hearing that crushing moment, the lyrics that gave the song its title just growled with such precise delivery, with such vigor. Wow. Then the musical outro, those final minutes that delivered the same way the entire album had delivered, only with one final rush of escalation. I instantly felt the same way I had upon hearing the ending of "Blood and Concrete" by Forgotten Tomb. The pattern was similar, with the final lyrics being delivered with crushing intensity, only to be followed-up by a musical outro that raised hairs on my arms and postmarked knowledge that both of these songs would be remembered and praised for years to come. Both Colors and FT's "Negative Megalomania" really satisfied that carnal desire for memorable affairs, and Colors really stood by itself, boasting a colorful (ha!) variety that could only be termed as resplendent.
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