Review
Coldrain’s eighth album is a paradox: an urgent defense of raw human imperfection manufactured with the clinical rigidity of an automated assembly line. When Masato’s throat-tearing screams crash against pristine multi-tracked harmonies, the contrast registers less as existential rebellion than as an engineered studio equation executed at peak volume.
The momentum remains undeniably fierce. Dual guitars carve out razor-honed chugs against synthetic bass pulses, propelling kinetic charges like "EX-HUMANITY" and the brisk bounce of "G.I.A.I.G" directly toward arena rafters. Even when Bert McCracken lends ragged screamo friction to "POISON", the interplay is reeled into the same polished grid.
Sequencing the entirety of their preceding EP across the record's first half dulls the surprise, while the late-album drift into the orchestral gloss of "SING" blunts the rhythm. For a record consumed by the terror of a sanitized, automated future, its own sheen leaves remarkably little room for dirt.
