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So what exactly is
the theory behind
Seven Day Theory? Well, one’s first thoughts might
be of God’s 48-hour work week where He took a heaping handful of
precious metals, animals, crackers, and animal crackers and
fashioned Creation’s hood ornament, the planet Earth.
But what of the seventh day, when He set about creating the gift of
sleeping in? To see a Seven Day Theory show, one might get the
impression that the ferociously aggressive quintet from Monroe |
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took a few samples
of the heavier metals from The Almighty Tool Kit, beat and thrashed
them with wild abandon, and when they listened to what they’d
created, they heard that it was goooood.
Some might not think of a two-day-long ringing in the ears as
“good,” but the ringing from an SDT show reverberates with the sound
of classic heavy metal. A dual guitar attack presents a stereo
tsunami of the kinds of riffs that just aren’t written anymore.
Their setlist is a dictionary of archetypal metal themes: “Reign of
Terror,” “Decayed,” “Change My Ways” (an optimistic take on drug
addiction), “Bleed”, “Trapped,” and just for a point of reference, a
cover of “For Whom the Bell Tolls.” From the melancholy to the
maniacal to the anthemic, SDT walks hallowed ground as they stomp
through an hour of blistering rock and roll.
But beyond merely the volume and viciousness, Seven Day Theory
deserves recognition for writing extremely clever material. Healthy
application of dynamics and space leave an unsuspecting listener
(i.e., me) momentarily stupefied when the group throws a whisper in
place of a roar. A grasp of styles as recent as Alice in Chains’
brooding grunge and as classic as bar band blues shows that SDT has
done its music history homework. Kids, tell your parents: metal does
not rot your brain.
Yeah, like any parent will ever be persuaded by that argument. Just
for good measure, tell them something else you learned from heavy
metal: theories have to be proven. Seven Day Theory’s live
performance leaves little room for argument: these guys rock in ways
that make Richter Scale needles headbang. The band has a viselike
tightness, holding pregnant pauses and hitting downbeats like they
were dropped from the Enola Gay. Their dynamic songwriting and
unabashed love of what they do make it seem like they only get
louder and more intense as the night drives on. Lead singer Randy Rutherford takes the mic armed with a twin pair of
hurricanes in his chest. His delivery is powerful, merciless, and
LOUD. When not testing the load-bearing capacity of his neck veins,
Rutherford giddily spins around to share his joy with his bandmates.
Rhythm guitarist Jason Davidson rides the ferocious riffs with the
poise and concentration of a Zen master. Bassist Shane Trochesset is
the behemoth behind Jason’s fangs, laying down end so low it rattles
fault lines. He’s also responsible for the band’s malevolently
kickass logo.
Drummer Rusty Davidson’s crashes never stop screaming over his
ferocious thrashing. But tucked away underneath his blistering
precision chops is a deep pocket and gleeful groove.
A diamond among cold hard steel is lead guitarist A.J. Melendez. The
18-year-old fretmaster is quite simply a phenomenon in the making.
He feverishly attacks solos like he’s been stalking them all night
while adding tasteful and authoritative layers of crunch to the
overall sound. His bluesy doodling between songs hints at a
well-trained ear and dutifully-exercised fingers. His finger-tapping
is a joy to behold. Melendez and Seven Day Theory aptly illustrate
that heavy metal is a language that ages like wine and hits you in
the face like hard liquor.
Like a prodigal son returning home (to kick his brother’s ass),
Seven Day Theory has come along to prove that someone still
remembers how to play brutal, dark, almost EVIL heavy metal. God
bless ‘em for it.
www.sevendaytheory.com |
