Sumerlands
by Andy O'Connor
On the debut LP from his band Sumerlands, producer Arthur Rizk (Title Fight, Prurient) establishes himself as a keen student of early '80s American metal and a songwriting behemoth in his own right.
"Seventh Seal" — SumerlandsVia
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What's the common link between Title Fight, Prurient, and Power Trip? Producer Arthur Rizk, now an in-demand name for what Kurt Ballou calls achieving the maximum amount of Satan. Rizk's status as the underground producer du jour somewhat obscures the fact that he is also a keen student of early '80s American metal, making work comparable to his masters. In Rizk's own band Sumerlands, the guitarist has teamed up with former Hour of 13 vocalist Phil Swanson, drummer Justin DeTore of Magic Circle, guitarist John Powers, and bassist Brad Raub (Raub also plays with Rizk in crossover group War Hungry). Sumerlands' 2014 demo hinted at a worthy update of classic American power/speed metal; with their self-titled debut full-length, Rizk establishes himself as a metal songwriting behemoth.
Rizk's most notable productions come from bands who understand how melody can make aggression sound fuller. This is why he's as comfortable working with shoegaze-obsessed hardcore dudes like Title Fight as he is with Dom Fernow, a master of faltering beauty. Rizk's ability to hone in on melodies from other bands translates to his own guitar work, drawing especially from Jake E. Lee, Ozzy Osbourne's guitarist after Randy Rhoads' death and before Zakk Wylde's tenure. Lee bridged the gap between Rhoads' virtuosity and Wylde's tougher approach, and Rizk imagines Lee unburdened by Ozzy's need for radio play.
"Seventh Seal" opens bursting with jubilant leads, and Swanson comes out charging, grabbing Rizk's rhythm and bending it at his will. Rizk's changes and DeTore's stomp are relentless in their catchiness, the stuff guitar hero dreams and European metal festival chants are made of. It's flashy and tasteful, packing enough to be memorable without going into overload. The two tracks that follow, "The Guardian" and "Timelash," are bombastic in a different way, with Rizk giving more space to Swanson. He carries the rhythms, and by upping the theatricality just a bit, Rizk's guitar basks and becomes sneakily majestic. Rizk's production also serves Sumerlands well, providing a sound as punchy as his rhythms and solos. If there's one thing no one should miss about the '80s, it's albums marred by thin production.
Sumerlands builds upon the pre-thrash days, when metal hadn't absorbed hardcore into its DNA, and yet was still exiting the '70s with lightspeed. That era has gotten some due thanks to bands like In Solitude and Christian Mistress, but Sumerlands aren't quite as focused on the comparatively elegant NWOBHM. The album is more influenced by Manilla Road's Midwestern Viking dreams; a vision as big as, but also contrasting, boring wheat fields. "Blind" and "Spiral Infinite" are rife with speed and aggression, but they don't come from a punky place. It's heartier, working-class strength meets liberating curiosity. Energy doesn't always mean fast. This contrasts with many of DeTore's other metal projects, which still have hints of his hardcore upbringing.
Still, this is not a slick prog-metal affair. Swanson's voice contains confidence, with a weight that suggests he's seen some shit. "The Guardian" and "Blind" show his natural ability to ramp himself into a hysteria, just enough so he can return from the other side in one piece. He doesn't go for piercing highs because Rizk's wizardry is enough of a high for him—and us.
Swanson and Rizk's chemistry is the heart of Sumerlands' power: it's both reverent and ageless. Metal has a weird relationship with age: its technical and physical demands favor younger players, but it's dominated by old dudes, and even the ones that keep with new bands hold the '80s as the apex. Aging gracefully is nearly impossible: Metallica's relevance, for example, has long outpaced their ability to recreate their classics live. Sumerlands isn't a record for old fans looking to relive their youth, nor is it a placeholder for younger fans with knowledge gaps. It's an exceptional record, and the barrier to entry isn't age. It's whether you can surrender yourself to Rizk's charm as the new American Heavy Metal Master.