Review: Planetoid's Shadow of the Planetiod

I'm not exactly sure how to introduce this band, so here it is, free from prose: Planetiod is a band made of two intergalactic warlords and a drumming robot who are intent on taking over the planet Earth by using their music to literally melt our faces off. Think of Rush, meets Coheed and Cambria, meets AC/DC, and the fundaments of understanding Planetoid's brand of music are in place.

Their debut work, Shadow of the Planetoid, is by all accounts thoroughly impressive. Planetoid's only three dudes, with Locrius, the bassist doubling up on vocals, but the depth of sound that they've managed to produce with only ten strings, a few pedals, and a drumkit borders on damn near impossible. Across the length of the record, there are precious few instances of any layered guitars, axeman Ovatus content to weave his riffing and background grooves into one flowing line of music. Frequently though, the bass will forsake the lower frets and take over the melody, immedietly exemplified in the opener Lord of this Asteroid. All throughout, each song struts its own individual style, catchy, slightly-off kilter, 80's proggy melodies, and the gritty vocal delivery of Locrius.

Locrius sings like Def Leppard's Joe Elliot filled with the conviction and intonation of an Alabaman firebrand preacher, and he's absolutely aware of it if his monologue that kicks off Church of the Overdrive is any indication. His delivery is gritty and rough, straight from the back of his throat. And the rough edges in his voice compliment the entire band perfectly, because it's important to note that Shadow is steeped in garage band DIY recording funk, which so very often plagues a band's first album by not having production value enough to do the songs justice. But in Planetoid's case, my god it works.

Maybe because all of their songs are meticulously arranged to hell and back, maybe because the editing is so basic, it's obvious that they're doing massive swaths of the song all in one take, which is not as easy as it sounds, or perhaps because it has an incredibly personal, human feel; as the cymbals ring, you can hear the metal vibrating and warping the sound; the high fret bass riffing feels properly chunky, as the extra-thick strings struggle to do the work of melodies written for .10's. The album isn't so much polished as it is rehearsed, you can almost feel the musician's satisfaction in their playing after doing however many fudged takes and finally getting the part right.

Bottom line: The warriors of Planetoid know how to get a whole lot of sound out of little instrumentation. The album is packed with literally intergalactic music, and the aforementioned garage band feel evokes a certain echoing, hollow emptiness that brings out the vast expanses of the vacuum their lyrics are set in. A trio of highly skilled rockers, Planetiod is a refreshing dose fantasy and grandeur and flat out weirdness that is all too uncommon in the music of today.

*The members of Planetiod uniformly deny any relation to, compassion for, or origination from humanity.