Death never takes a holiday but you do: 10 best crime books for summer
Writers Chris Brookmyre and Dr Marisa Haetzman (Image: Getty Images)
Why has STV or BBC Scotland not given us a small screen version of Parry's Raven and Fisher Victorian murder mysteries? Budget - or the lack of it - is, presumably, the boring answer. But this splendid series, now drawing to a close, is tailor-made for a TV adaptation. Set in Edinburgh's medical community in the mid-1800s, this is the fifth and final volume in a series of wonderfully crafted entertainments by husband-and-wife duo Chris Brookmyre and Marisa Haetzman, operating under the Ambrose Parry nom de plume. Victorian virtues turn out to be anything but in this gripping story which takes in photography, pornography and people trafficking.
White City
Dominic Nolan, Headline, £10.99, July 3
Out in paperback at the start of July, this is crime fiction as historical epic. Inspired by a real-life event - the Eastcastle Street robbery of a Post Office van in London in 1952 - this sweeping novel takes the temperature of the capital in the post-war years, culminating in the Notting Hill riots at the end of the decade. More James Ellroy than Agatha Christie, it's bleak, brutal and often thrilling. It's about cops and robbers - and how close both those sides can be - as well as postwar housing, Rachmanism (Peter Rachman is one of just a number of real-life people who appear in its pages; see also Lady Docker), racism and politics at the margins. Both vivid and visceral, it's a rewarding reminder of just how ambitious crime fiction can be.
The Good Liar, Denise Mina, Harvill Secker, £16.99, July 31
Oh, this is also very good. Published at the end of July, Denise Mina's new book is a reminder of just how potent a writer the Glasgow author is. The Good Liar is a standalone novel that is embedded in the worlds of forensic science and the law. Doctor Claudia O'Shiel is a blood spatter expert who becomes involved in the investigation of a brutal double murder in an opulent London townhouse. The chief suspect is a Viscount who's never out of the papers. What follows is a novel about grief (O'Shiel has recently lost her husband), the seductive nature of the British establishment and moral compromise. It's sharp, clear-eyed and clever.
Rum Punch, Elmore Leonard, Penguin, £9.99, out now
'Sunday morning, Ordell took Louis to watch the white-power demonstration in downtown Palm Beach.
''Young skinhead Nazis,' Ordell said, 'Look, even little Nazi girls marching down Worth Avenue. You believe it?''
Rum Punch, Elmore Leonard (Image: Penguin)
Ah, I'd forgotten what a joy it was to read Elmore Leonard. Since the author's death in 2013 he has slightly slipped out of the public eye, but Penguin has now added him to its Modern Classics Crime and Espionage series. The first three of 14 books - Rum Punch, The Switch and Swag - are out now and they're essential reading. Rum Punch is the source material for Quentin Tarantino's film Jackie Brown, which is fine and all, but the original is better. Leonard is one of the great prose stylists of the late 20th century. And these handsomely designed reissues are a wonderful excuse to become reacquainted with one of crime fiction's true originals.
The Cut
Richard Armitage, Faber, £18.99, August 28
Richard Armitage (Image: PA)
Actor Richard Armitage (The Hobbit, Captain America) made something of a splash with his debut thriller Geneva in 2023. This follow-up is a tricksy, time-switching story about High School rivalries and a teenage murder, jumping between then (the 1990s) and now. At times the result pushes hard against the border of believability, but you do keep reading to find out what really happened in the past and what's going to happen in the present.
The Man Who Died Seven Times, Yashuhiko Nishizawa, Pushkin Vertigo, £14.99, August 14
More tricksy, time-switching entertainment. On steroids. In fact Yasuhiko Nishizawa's crime novel - translated by Jesse Kirkwood - qualifies for that Doctor Who description, 'wibbly wobbly timey-wimey'. The man in the title is Hisataro's grandfather. He's dead on the first page and then comes back to life a few pages later. That's because for some reason his grandson regularly relives certain days over and over. And so when his grandad is killed - yes, it's murder - he decides to try and change the course of events. But it proves more difficult than he imagines. This is puzzle fiction for want of a better description. It has no other purpose than to entertain. It succeeds at that.
Like a Bullet
Andrew Cartmel, Titan Books,£9.99, July 8
Like a Bullet by Andrew Cartmel (Image: Titan Books)
This year has been a bumper one for Andrew Cartmel fans. There's already been a new Vinyl Detective book - Underscore, the eighth in this hugely entertaining series. And next month sees the third in his Paperback Sleuth series in which our morally ambivalent heroine Cordelia Stanmer tracks down rare paperbacks and somehow becomes embroiled in the odd spot of murder as a result. In her latest adventure she is tasked with finding copies of a pulp wartime series originally published in the late 1960s and early 1970s. In fine condition, it goes without saying. (Not mint condition. That's for coins, stamps, comics and records.) In doing so she meets dodgy brothers, one-armed ex-military men and an author with a taste for Bettie Page and bondage. It's a brisk amuse-bouche of a book, one that wears its learning lightly. Very moreish.
The Diary of Lies, Philip Miller, Polygon, £9.99, August 7
The third Shona Sandison thriller is full of spies, conspiracies, government secrets, the newspaper industry and, inevitably, murder. Plenty, then, for our journalist heroine to get her teeth into. Miller, formerly arts correspondent of this parish, has proven himself a very able crime writer in recent years. Among the many admirers of his last novel, The Hollow Tree, was David Peace, author of the Red Riding Quartet, and The Damned United no less.
Murder Takes a Vacation, Laura Lippman, Faber, £9.99, August 14
Mrs Blossom is, as the title implies, going on holiday. A cruise down the Seine. Quite something given that she has never left the United States before. It's just a pity that there has to be a murder at the start of it.
Veteran crime writer Laura Lippman has taken a minor character from her Tess Monaghan series and placed her front and centre in this cosy crime story. It works perfectly well enough as such, but, really, what makes this essential is that at heart it is a nuanced and clever character study of a flawed, decent woman in her sixties coming to terms with grief and a growing sense of adventure. Mrs Blossom is a delight to spend time with. Oh, and by the way, you may well come away from this with a newfound interest in the abstract artist Joan Mitchell and the ceramics of American industrial designer Russel Wright.
A Particularly Nasty Case, Adam Kay, Orion, £16.99, August 28
Not out until the end of August, former doctor Adam Kay has - as his publisher points out - 'decided to stop writing about saving people's lives and start killing them off instead.' Everyone from Russell T Davies to the aforementioned Chris Brookmyre and Joanna Lumley are raving about this development. Chapter 26 is entitled 'Autopsy-turvy'. How you respond to that may tell you whether you'll like it or not. (It made me smirk.)
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Scotsman
2 hours ago
- Scotsman
is it still a metal classic or has it aged like milk?
This article contains affiliate links. We may earn a small commission on items purchased through this article, but that does not affect our editorial judgement. Has Fear Factory's Demanufacture stood the test of time or, as the prosecution accuse, become a 'flimsy structure' for metal to follow? Sign up to our daily newsletter Sign up Thank you for signing up! Did you know with a Digital Subscription to Edinburgh News, you can get unlimited access to the website including our premium content, as well as benefiting from fewer ads, loyalty rewards and much more. Learn More Sorry, there seem to be some issues. Please try again later. Submitting... Fear Factory's 1995 album Demanufacture is widely considered a landmark in metal, but its legacy remains fiercely debated. Accusations range from being overly mechanistic and cold to lacking the warmth and organic feel of traditional metal Is it a pioneering work guilty of derailing a genre, or is it a misunderstood masterpiece deserving of a dramatic re-evaluation? Today, we convene in the solemn chambers of public opinion to preside over a musical case that, while critically lauded in its time, has since been subjected to scrutiny, mischaracterisation, and perhaps, a failure to fully grasp its true impact. On trial: Demanufacture by Fear Factory, a 1995 release that arrived with the force of a hydraulic press, forging a path between industrial coldness and metallic brutality. Often cited as a pioneering work, it has also faced criticisms of being too rigid, too mechanical, and even, by some, too influential in ways that led to less desirable offshoots. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad The defence, however, believes there is compelling evidence for its enduring genius and rightful place as a monumental achievement in heavy music. Before we delve into today's proceedings, let us set the scene. Is Fear Factory's Demanufacture a work of art, or is it merely a work of 'calculated aggression?' | Getty Images/Canva In the mid-1990s, the landscape of heavy music was in flux. Metal, in its traditional forms, was still powerful, but new hybrids were emerging, challenging conventions and setting the stage for what would become one of the decade's most defining, and often divisive, sounds: nu-metal. It was into this fertile, yet volatile, ground that Fear Factory emerged. Formed in Los Angeles in 1989, Fear Factory quickly distinguished themselves from their peers. Comprised of vocalist Burton C. Bell, guitarist Dino Cazares, bassist Christian Olde Wolbers, and drummer Raymond Herrera, the band forged a unique sound that relentlessly fused industrial machine-like precision with death metal's aggression and groove metal's rhythmic drive. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad They built a reputation for pioneering a distinct rhythmic assault, often employing blast beats, double bass drumming, and heavily palm-muted guitar riffs that sounded more like percussive machinery than traditional shredding. Their lyrical themes, consistently exploring the uneasy relationship between man and machine, technology and humanity, carved out a distinct conceptual identity that resonated with a generation grappling with the digital age. It was in 1995 that Fear Factory released their second studio album, Demanufacture. Upon its arrival, it was heralded by many as a ground-breaking work, a bold leap forward that redefined the boundaries of extreme music. However, over the years, Demanufacture has become a subject of considerable controversy and debate. While praised for its innovation and brutal efficiency, it has also been accused of being cold, sterile, and overly mechanical, with critics questioning its emotional depth and whether its influential sound inadvertently paved the way for more simplistic and less organic forms of metal. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad To truly analyse its impact and legacy – and to confront these long-standing accusations – we are today putting Demanufacture on 'musical trial' in the court of public opinion. Let the proceedings begin. In defence of: Fear Factory - Demanufacture The Charge The album, Demanufacture by Fear Factory, stands accused of being a sterile, overly mechanistic, and emotionally cold blueprint for a wave of metal that prioritised rhythm and aggression over organic feel and nuanced musicianship, ultimately contributing to a perceived dehumanisation of the genre. The Prosecution Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we are presented today with an album that, on the surface, might appear to be a marvel of precision and force. Indeed, upon its release, Demanufacture was met with considerable acclaim. But I submit to you that this very precision, this relentless, machine-gun rhythm, this calculated coldness, is precisely its greatest sin. The evidence will demonstrate that Demanufacture, for all its apparent innovation, presented a stark, almost unfeeling vision of metal. The drumming, while undeniably fast, often felt more like a programmed beat than the fluid expression of a human hand. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad As one reviewer noted regarding drummer Raymond Herrera's work, it's "precision machine gun fire drum work," often raising questions of "whether his drum work is not redone to some extent with studio magic, because it is totally mind blowing, despite the fact that he rarely touches his cymbals." This "machine-like" quality, while impressive, sacrifices the organic warmth of human performance. The guitar riffs, precise and percussive, largely eschewed the melodic complexity and dynamic range that defined earlier eras of metal, reducing the instrument to a rhythmic hammer. Critics have pointed out that Demanufacture "doesn't try to wow you with high-pitched vocals or blazing guitar solos as this album features absolutely none of that." This minimalist approach to traditional metal elements, while a deliberate choice, stripped away much of the expressive freedom cherished by purists. Even the vocals, while shifting between guttural roars and clean, almost ethereal melodies, often contributed to an unsettling dichotomy rather than a cohesive emotional landscape, with some finding the clean vocals "somewhat off key" at times Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad We contend that this album, by "prioritising mechanisation over human elements" [paraphrased from general criticism], laid the groundwork for a future where metal became less about fiery passion and more about calculated aggression, paving the way for bands that would imitate its mechanical precision without capturing its conceptual ambition. It streamlined, it systematised, it... de-manufactured the very soul of heavy music, leading to a sound that, "while powerful, often sounded very lifeless when compared to their later work" and "very compressed by today's standards." It set a precedent for a sound that, in less capable hands, often became predictable, repetitive, and ultimately, devoid of the human element. The defence may speak of innovation, but we will show you an album that, despite its power, ultimately sacrificed warmth and humanity for the cold, unyielding embrace of the machine. This album, we contend, is guilty of establishing a blueprint that, while powerful, often led metal astray. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad The defence Members of the court of public opinion, I appreciate the arguments that the Prosecution has levied against the album, but I remind them of the state of metal at the time. This was in 1995, where the metal genre was just on the cusp of breaking into mainstream avenues through acts such as Korn, Limp Bizkit, and in later years, Linkin Park. Where some groups might have changed their formula to reflect the change in trends, I argue that Fear Factory "evolved" their sound not simply to be accessible for newer fans of the genre, but to ensure they did not alienate older fans of their industrial style. Demanufacture indeed sounds emotionally cold and lacks organic warmth; but that is precisely the point of the album. It's a meticulously crafted concept album about a man's struggles against a machine-controlled government, with each song a chapter in his life. As the band themselves stated, the album took its inspiration from the movie The Terminator, and within that context, the 'stark, unfeeling' nature of the album and lack of organic warmth is not a flaw, but a deliberate and essential artistic choice. This is an album that is meant to evoke emotions of technology taking over organic matter, and thus had to prioritise mechanisation over human elements. Not just that, but the very nature of industrial metal lends itself to having a cold, mechanical resonance to it, and I point to the likes of Nine Inch Nails or Godflesh as previous evidence of this aesthetic being central to the genre. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad The charges of being lifeless and compressed, giving it a powerful, suffocating feel, are exactly the kind of emotions Fear Factory looked to evoke with the work. Again, members of the court, this is a concept album about technology taking over. The relentless, percussive guitaring perfectly compliments the blunt force nature of the drumming, giving listeners such as myself vivid images of mechanical presses, whirling machinery, and cold, metallic elements as part of the story's chilling narrative. This wasn't a flaw; it was a masterful sonic design choice that immersed the listener in the album's dystopian vision. As for the charge against Burton C. Bell's vocals, his performance perfectly embodies the album's themes of man versus machine. What the Prosecution labels as "off-key" is, I submit, an unfair and superficial judgment. The stark contrast between the desperate, vulnerable human element of Bell's clean singing and the cold, almost automated yells, demonstrates the harrowing duality of the album's core concept. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad It's the sound of humanity struggling for breath against an overwhelming, artificial perfection, and in many respects, a chilling premonition of what life, according to Demanufacture, has become. This vocal interplay isn't a weakness; it's a dynamic storytelling device, full of nuanced emotion that transcends simple melody. Furthermore, to label Demanufacture as a "harmful blueprint" that led metal "astray" is to fundamentally misunderstand its pioneering spirit. This album was not simply following trends; it was very much steadfast in the industrial metal blueprint, while expertly borrowing from the burgeoning groove metal scene that was popular at the time. That it didn't lead metal "astray" should be more of a testament to the importance of the record across the metal genre, rather than dismissing it as building "flimsy structures" going forwards. It's not Fear Factory's fault if other artists were inspired, influenced, or outright cribbed from them and produced second-rate imitations—much like it is unfair to blame The Beatles for a "flimsy structure" regarding the raft of British pop acts that followed them or an act like The Libertines being accused of laying a formula for what has been called these days as 'landfill indie.' True innovation, like that found on Demanufacture, always risks inspiring lesser imitations. This album's influence should be celebrated, not condemned, for opening new sonic pathways in heavy music. I rest my case, your honour(s) Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad What is your verdict on Fear Factory's 1995 album Demanufacture? Share if you're for or against the album by leaving a comment down below, and catch Fear Factory when they peform at Bloodstock Open Air 2025 in August 2025.
Daily Mirror
3 hours ago
- Daily Mirror
'UK's poshest Greggs' is in Grade II listed building and steeped in history
Greggs is one of the UK's most beloved fast food chains, and fans of the eatery are just realising there's a particularly 'posh' branch in a 300-year-old building There's nothing quite like sinking your teeth into a Greggs pastry while you're rushing about, or grabbing one of their sandwiches or coffees from the beloved sausage roll emporium for your lunch. Devotees love it for being affordable and dependable - and you can spot its distinctive blue, white and yellow Greggs branding from miles away. But this particular branch in Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk, appears rather different and has been crowned "the poshest" Greggs in Britain. This extraordinary branch sits within a 17th century Grade II* listed structure and is frequently hailed as the most beautiful Greggs across the nation. The heritage building's facade features timber panelling and merges Victorian, Georgian, Tudor and 1930s architectural elements. Back in the 1700s, it launched as a grocer and tea merchant, which remained in business until the 1960s. Today, it houses Britain's beloved bakery chain. Until recently, the outlet was covered in scaffolding as part of an 18-month restoration scheme. This work is now finished: the building's front has been reconstructed whilst numerous windows have been renewed and sections of the roof have been fixed. On Reddit, the outlet was christened "the country's poshest Greggs". This week, a TikTok user posted footage of the establishment and declared: "Sorry but this is the poshest Greggs I've ever seen." Greggs responded to the clip, saying: "RIP Henry VIII you would have loved Bury St Edmunds Greggs." Someone else remarked: "That isn't a Greggs. That's a Gregorys." Another said: "It's like Greggs and Wetherspoons had a baby." Another person concurred, observing: "That ain't Greggs that's Gregory's tavern for the whimsical." "I just know people eating sausage rolls with their pinky's out," one user quipped. Another likened the place to "Greggs if it was in a fantasy world." A local resident chimed in: "I grew up in that town. Everybody called it bakers oven cause that's what it was called before Greggs took it over." "I kind of like the fact they've not changed the outside of the building too much," said one other. "Love Bury Greggs," another fan declared. "If only every Greggs looked like that," added one other. In other food news, a woman recently tried a"secret" coffee shop at Buckingham Palace but was floored by the price. Another food lover tried the "UK's most expensive sandwiches" from Harrods and shared her review. Do you have a story? Get in touch at
Scotsman
4 hours ago
- Scotsman
is it still a metal classic or has it aged like milk?
This article contains affiliate links. We may earn a small commission on items purchased through this article, but that does not affect our editorial judgement. Has Fear Factory's Demanufacture stood the test of time or, as the prosecution accuse, become a 'flimsy structure' for metal to follow? Sign up to our Arts and Culture newsletter Sign up Thank you for signing up! Did you know with a Digital Subscription to The Scotsman, you can get unlimited access to the website including our premium content, as well as benefiting from fewer ads, loyalty rewards and much more. Learn More Sorry, there seem to be some issues. Please try again later. Submitting... Fear Factory's 1995 album Demanufacture is widely considered a landmark in metal, but its legacy remains fiercely debated. Accusations range from being overly mechanistic and cold to lacking the warmth and organic feel of traditional metal Is it a pioneering work guilty of derailing a genre, or is it a misunderstood masterpiece deserving of a dramatic re-evaluation? Today, we convene in the solemn chambers of public opinion to preside over a musical case that, while critically lauded in its time, has since been subjected to scrutiny, mischaracterisation, and perhaps, a failure to fully grasp its true impact. On trial: Demanufacture by Fear Factory, a 1995 release that arrived with the force of a hydraulic press, forging a path between industrial coldness and metallic brutality. Often cited as a pioneering work, it has also faced criticisms of being too rigid, too mechanical, and even, by some, too influential in ways that led to less desirable offshoots. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad The defence, however, believes there is compelling evidence for its enduring genius and rightful place as a monumental achievement in heavy music. Before we delve into today's proceedings, let us set the scene. Is Fear Factory's Demanufacture a work of art, or is it merely a work of 'calculated aggression?' | Getty Images/Canva In the mid-1990s, the landscape of heavy music was in flux. Metal, in its traditional forms, was still powerful, but new hybrids were emerging, challenging conventions and setting the stage for what would become one of the decade's most defining, and often divisive, sounds: nu-metal. It was into this fertile, yet volatile, ground that Fear Factory emerged. Formed in Los Angeles in 1989, Fear Factory quickly distinguished themselves from their peers. Comprised of vocalist Burton C. Bell, guitarist Dino Cazares, bassist Christian Olde Wolbers, and drummer Raymond Herrera, the band forged a unique sound that relentlessly fused industrial machine-like precision with death metal's aggression and groove metal's rhythmic drive. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad They built a reputation for pioneering a distinct rhythmic assault, often employing blast beats, double bass drumming, and heavily palm-muted guitar riffs that sounded more like percussive machinery than traditional shredding. Their lyrical themes, consistently exploring the uneasy relationship between man and machine, technology and humanity, carved out a distinct conceptual identity that resonated with a generation grappling with the digital age. It was in 1995 that Fear Factory released their second studio album, Demanufacture. Upon its arrival, it was heralded by many as a ground-breaking work, a bold leap forward that redefined the boundaries of extreme music. However, over the years, Demanufacture has become a subject of considerable controversy and debate. While praised for its innovation and brutal efficiency, it has also been accused of being cold, sterile, and overly mechanical, with critics questioning its emotional depth and whether its influential sound inadvertently paved the way for more simplistic and less organic forms of metal. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad To truly analyse its impact and legacy – and to confront these long-standing accusations – we are today putting Demanufacture on 'musical trial' in the court of public opinion. Let the proceedings begin. In defence of: Fear Factory - Demanufacture The Charge The album, Demanufacture by Fear Factory, stands accused of being a sterile, overly mechanistic, and emotionally cold blueprint for a wave of metal that prioritised rhythm and aggression over organic feel and nuanced musicianship, ultimately contributing to a perceived dehumanisation of the genre. The Prosecution Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we are presented today with an album that, on the surface, might appear to be a marvel of precision and force. Indeed, upon its release, Demanufacture was met with considerable acclaim. But I submit to you that this very precision, this relentless, machine-gun rhythm, this calculated coldness, is precisely its greatest sin. The evidence will demonstrate that Demanufacture, for all its apparent innovation, presented a stark, almost unfeeling vision of metal. The drumming, while undeniably fast, often felt more like a programmed beat than the fluid expression of a human hand. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad As one reviewer noted regarding drummer Raymond Herrera's work, it's "precision machine gun fire drum work," often raising questions of "whether his drum work is not redone to some extent with studio magic, because it is totally mind blowing, despite the fact that he rarely touches his cymbals." This "machine-like" quality, while impressive, sacrifices the organic warmth of human performance. The guitar riffs, precise and percussive, largely eschewed the melodic complexity and dynamic range that defined earlier eras of metal, reducing the instrument to a rhythmic hammer. Critics have pointed out that Demanufacture "doesn't try to wow you with high-pitched vocals or blazing guitar solos as this album features absolutely none of that." This minimalist approach to traditional metal elements, while a deliberate choice, stripped away much of the expressive freedom cherished by purists. Even the vocals, while shifting between guttural roars and clean, almost ethereal melodies, often contributed to an unsettling dichotomy rather than a cohesive emotional landscape, with some finding the clean vocals "somewhat off key" at times Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad We contend that this album, by "prioritising mechanisation over human elements" [paraphrased from general criticism], laid the groundwork for a future where metal became less about fiery passion and more about calculated aggression, paving the way for bands that would imitate its mechanical precision without capturing its conceptual ambition. It streamlined, it systematised, it... de-manufactured the very soul of heavy music, leading to a sound that, "while powerful, often sounded very lifeless when compared to their later work" and "very compressed by today's standards." It set a precedent for a sound that, in less capable hands, often became predictable, repetitive, and ultimately, devoid of the human element. The defence may speak of innovation, but we will show you an album that, despite its power, ultimately sacrificed warmth and humanity for the cold, unyielding embrace of the machine. This album, we contend, is guilty of establishing a blueprint that, while powerful, often led metal astray. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad The defence Members of the court of public opinion, I appreciate the arguments that the Prosecution has levied against the album, but I remind them of the state of metal at the time. This was in 1995, where the metal genre was just on the cusp of breaking into mainstream avenues through acts such as Korn, Limp Bizkit, and in later years, Linkin Park. Where some groups might have changed their formula to reflect the change in trends, I argue that Fear Factory "evolved" their sound not simply to be accessible for newer fans of the genre, but to ensure they did not alienate older fans of their industrial style. Demanufacture indeed sounds emotionally cold and lacks organic warmth; but that is precisely the point of the album. It's a meticulously crafted concept album about a man's struggles against a machine-controlled government, with each song a chapter in his life. As the band themselves stated, the album took its inspiration from the movie The Terminator, and within that context, the 'stark, unfeeling' nature of the album and lack of organic warmth is not a flaw, but a deliberate and essential artistic choice. This is an album that is meant to evoke emotions of technology taking over organic matter, and thus had to prioritise mechanisation over human elements. Not just that, but the very nature of industrial metal lends itself to having a cold, mechanical resonance to it, and I point to the likes of Nine Inch Nails or Godflesh as previous evidence of this aesthetic being central to the genre. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad The charges of being lifeless and compressed, giving it a powerful, suffocating feel, are exactly the kind of emotions Fear Factory looked to evoke with the work. Again, members of the court, this is a concept album about technology taking over. The relentless, percussive guitaring perfectly compliments the blunt force nature of the drumming, giving listeners such as myself vivid images of mechanical presses, whirling machinery, and cold, metallic elements as part of the story's chilling narrative. This wasn't a flaw; it was a masterful sonic design choice that immersed the listener in the album's dystopian vision. As for the charge against Burton C. Bell's vocals, his performance perfectly embodies the album's themes of man versus machine. What the Prosecution labels as "off-key" is, I submit, an unfair and superficial judgment. The stark contrast between the desperate, vulnerable human element of Bell's clean singing and the cold, almost automated yells, demonstrates the harrowing duality of the album's core concept. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad It's the sound of humanity struggling for breath against an overwhelming, artificial perfection, and in many respects, a chilling premonition of what life, according to Demanufacture, has become. This vocal interplay isn't a weakness; it's a dynamic storytelling device, full of nuanced emotion that transcends simple melody. Furthermore, to label Demanufacture as a "harmful blueprint" that led metal "astray" is to fundamentally misunderstand its pioneering spirit. This album was not simply following trends; it was very much steadfast in the industrial metal blueprint, while expertly borrowing from the burgeoning groove metal scene that was popular at the time. That it didn't lead metal "astray" should be more of a testament to the importance of the record across the metal genre, rather than dismissing it as building "flimsy structures" going forwards. It's not Fear Factory's fault if other artists were inspired, influenced, or outright cribbed from them and produced second-rate imitations—much like it is unfair to blame The Beatles for a "flimsy structure" regarding the raft of British pop acts that followed them or an act like The Libertines being accused of laying a formula for what has been called these days as 'landfill indie.' True innovation, like that found on Demanufacture, always risks inspiring lesser imitations. This album's influence should be celebrated, not condemned, for opening new sonic pathways in heavy music. I rest my case, your honour(s) Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad
