As much as it pains me to admit, my longtime infatuation with Sweden prog-metal gods Opeth has appeared to have come to an end with the release of Watershed (2008), which dropped this past Tuesday. It’s the first time I’ve deviated from the now-standard new-album routine from the band: every two or three years Mikael Åkerfeldt & Co. release latest opus, critics and fans shit themselves silly with the amount of accolades they heap upon it, and I dutifully follow suit with my own variation on how phenomenal and important the group is. Not this time. Ghost Reveries (2005) was the first Opeth record in ten years that required some effort for me to muster enthusiasm about, and I still have difficulty sitting through parts of it . And I don’t want to place too much blame on the elephant in the room, but I’d be remiss to mention that I was hugely disappointed when I heard of the departures of drummer Martin Lopez and longtime guitarist Peter Lindgren in 2006 and 2007, respectively – especially Lopez, who could tap on the side of a champagne glass with a dinner fork for an entire album and I’d still be on the edge of my seat. So Åkerfeldt recruited Fredrik Åkesson (ex-Arch Enemy) and drummer Martin Axenrot as their replacements (clearly, the man has a penchant for Martins and short ‘a’s), toured the shit out of Ghost Reveries, and returned to the studio to prepare the next album.

Put simply, Watershed is a mess. Not a failure by any means, but easily the most unfocused and least engaging of the band’s “observations” to date.

For starters, you know something is awry on an Opeth record when you can count the number of furious, demonic, grab-you-by-the-balls riffs on one hand. Åkerfeldt, whose riff-writing abilities were once on par with the almighty Chuck Schuldiner – seriously, listen to “The Leper Affinity” again, or the entirety of Blackwater Park (2001) for that matter – now seems to favor standard power chords, open-chord strumming, and finger-picked arpeggios. Most of what constitute “riffs” here have been slowed down to sludgy, doom metal plods that have been done to death by the band and their stoner contemporaries countless times before. Those glorious riffs, whose grooves ran miles deep, could obliterate armies of guitarists, and trump the entire catalogs of most bands, are few and far between here. When a thundering, good old-fashioned palm-muted riff does finally appear, such as the 2:30 mark in “Heir Apparent” or during “Hessian Peel” at 6:31, it’s almost as if salvation has finally arrived. Sadly, it’s short-lived, as Åkerfeldt’s attention deficit disorder gets the best of him and the track shifts gears for the umpteenth time into some idyllic acoustic interlude.

Which brings me to my next complaint, the complete disregard of “flow” and linearity within the album that was one of Opeth’s most impressive characteristics. On past outings, such as My Arms Your Hearse (1998) and Deliverance (2002), the material was rife with sudden shifts in mood and dynamics, yet the transitions made sense, gravitating naturally and organically from one to the next. Watershed practically embodies the critical adage of complexity for complexity’s sake, throttling the listener through endless channels of seizure-inducing quick edits: pointless piano miniatures, power ballad strumming, masturbatory organ solos, grinding noise, or an excuse to dust off the old Mellotron. One can’t help but admire Åkerfeldt’s increasing interest in experimenting with various sounds, exotic instruments, and recording techniques over the years, but here they come across as bitty and far too self-conscious, as if he desperately wants the listener’s head to fucking explode upon hearing sudden Ligeti-like clusters of dissonance, the inexplicable chatter of restaurant patrons, or the pegs of a guitar being detuned – wait for it – while it’s being played. Yawn. Without an appropriate context, these “shocking left turns” carry the same ingenuity as a first-year composition student emptying his bag of tricks in a hopeless attempt to wow his instructors.

Considering the aforementioned loss of half of the band in recent years, my gut instinct tells me that this detour isn’t temporary. Åkerfeldt has been inching towards this sort of bombastic theatricality since the Deliverance and Damnation (2003) siblings, and honestly, it would hardly come as a surprise if the group released a purely symphonic or even opera record five years from now. Ultimately, this is about the age-old dichotomy of artistic growth vs. a fan’s selfish desire for uniformity; Opeth could release five more variations on Still Life (1999), throw in the towel, and I’d have no qualms claiming them as the finest metal act of the past century. Watershed is still better than a good 80% of the metal releases I’ve heard so far this year, but expectations are a bitch. To open a record with a quiet, almost tender acoustic duet between Åkerfelt and guest Nathalie Lorichs comes as a shock to someone intimately familiar with every note in the band’s cycle of five (arguably six) near-perfect albums of prog-metal of the highest order. I’ll always be rooting for Åkerfeldt and will continue praising his talents at every opportunity, but damned if he isn’t making me work for it, as his output becomes exponentially harder to digest with each passing album.

“Porcelain Heart” – Opeth 8:00 (Watershed, Roadrunner 2008)

One of the things I love most about overindulgent music consumption in the modern Internet age is the ease of accidentally discovering an artist’s music at just the right time. Case in point: About a week ago, I was mindlessly sifting through my “Saved for Later” page on eMusic, hoping to find a halfway-decent album to listen to from a few dozen selections that I had placed on the back burner long ago. I came across Norwegian viking/black metallers Enslaved and their 2003 release Below the Lights, and downloaded it out of both curiosity and boredom. With an impressive catalogue of nine full-lengths into their career, I’ve always felt a twinge of guilt at knowing so little about this band, although in my defense, a good portion of their discography is tough to acquire in the States and often fetches steep import prices. I began playing “As Fire Swept Clean the Earth,” the opening salvo from Below the Lights, and by the 60-second mark every nerve ending in my body was tingling. I listened to the record in its entirety twice that evening and actually had difficulty succumbing to sleep later that night because of my excitement at the opportunity to explore this band’s music further.

The following day I strolled into my local Newbury Comics to pick up a tangible copy of Below the Lights, but to my mild disappointment the store had only one disc by the group, their most recent release Ruun (2006). I picked it up anyway, figuring that it would be just as good, and maybe even better than Below the Lights (at this point, I hadn’t done much online research about the band). Nothing could have prepared me for the unharnessed power that roared out of my car speakers minutes later. Leadoff track “Entroper” immediately embraced my eardrums and refused to let go for six minutes. Here is a list of reasons why I was hooked:

• The guitars. My God, the guitars. At once scalding the skin with blue-flamed fury yet stinging like a shower of ice pellets. I can’t emphasize enough how phenomenal the duel guitars of Ivar Bjørnson and Arve Isdel sound: raw, alive, majestic. And rather than chug along the lower strings of the fretboard, the pair construct open, expansive chords and weave internal melodies into the progressions, stacking ninths and elevenths atop the harmony. Hell, there are even bright, un-metal major seventh chords here. I could listen to this kind of six-stringed electricity every day until I go deaf.

• It would be criminal to overlook Grutle Kjellson’s bass playing. Listen at 1:38 for his solo exposition, brilliant in its simplicity and placement in the song, overlapping bar lines, every note resonating with determination and purpose.

• Cato Bekkevold owns the drum throne, never once overplaying and in complete deference to the time, yet prone to sudden bursts of double-kick rolling and polyrhythmic accents on his cymbals to keep the listener in suspense.

• Kjellson’s vocals are mixed perfectly, from his weathered rasp to the acidic whispers to the multi-tracked clean vocals. Yes, there are clean vocals here – normally a turn-off for my metal tastes – but their presence is never overpowering, and they are blended into the mix seamlessly.

• Listen to how thick and colorful the guitars sound. This is in no small measure due to Herbrand Larsen, who eschews organ solos and clunky piano licks for pure texture.

Soon I became engulfed in the swarming maelstrom of sound that brings “Entroper” to its triumphant climax, the guitars mowing down everything in their path while Kjellson mourns, “They turned safely into non-existence.” Which is precisely what I’ve just experienced.

“Entroper” – Enslaved 6:21 (Ruun, Candelight 2006)

On a record that’s virtually one long highlight it feels slightly inordinate to focus on standout cuts, but the title track gloriously melds exotic gloom with black metal elegance. The song opens with beautiful ringing guitar arpeggios over a slinky 7/8 signature that are counterbalanced by a drilling one-note riff in the left channel. At 1:43 the atmosphere turns claustrophobic with mashed chords as the drums force their way through the speakers in double-time, with Kjellson adopting his gutteral howl to deliver the chorus. A brief acoustic interlude offers the only chance for breath before the guitars return, culminating in the last final shrieks of Kjellson before fading into silence. Absolutely stunning.

“Ruun” – Enslaved 6:49 (Ruun, Candlelight 2006)

So for forty-six minutes I remained in my car, staring glassy-eyed into my windshield while absorbing the record, with an occasional flip through the insert for lyric clarification or some minor recording detail. I haven’t done this in years. Certain albums just find you when you need them to, and this is exactly the kind of heaviness I have been needing to hear for the past three years now, filling the void where Opeth’s somewhat disappointing Ghost Reveries (2005) was intended to reside. I couldn’t even fathom hearing a note of Ruun in warm weather; it is the sonic equivalent of the icy, desolate environment seen up there in the current floodwatchmusic.com banner (the remains of the fire tower atop Mount Garfield in Northern New Hampshire, for anyone wondering).

If anyone needs me during the next three weeks, I’ll be poring over every note of this band’s discography.

Opeth “In Mist She Was Standing” Orchid Candlelight 1994

For a good six or seven years, Stockholm’s Opeth could do no wrong in my book. Their finely-honed balance of crushing riffage, rich melodicism, and uniquely structured songwriting – displayed in all its glory on My Arms, Your Hearse (1998) – was nothing shy of a revelation to these ears. I spent hundreds of hours trying to wrap my head around Still Life’s (2000) complexities, and still hold Blackwater Park (2001) to be metal perfection from start to finish. I wasn’t entirely comfortable with the less-metal/more-’70s-prog direction band leader Mikael Åkerfeldt had shifted the group toward on Deliverance (2002) and especially Damnation (2003), and I was utterly defeated when I heard these tendencies nurtured to fruition on Ghost Reveries (2005) two years ago. (A recent listen to the record revealed it to be much better than I had remembered, though it’s safe to say that I’ll never want to hear “Hours of Wealth” again.) With the recent departures of longtime guitarist Peter Lindgren and drummer Martin Lopez, I highly doubt that my unwavering devotion to the band will reach the same levels of fanaticism, and the recent announcement that Opeth will occupy the opening slot on Dream Theater’s 2008 tour hardly gains them any points. Yet I’m still amazed by the replay value of those earlier records, especially the debut Orchid (1994) and ambitious follow-up Morningrise (1996).

It wasn’t until after My Arms, Your Hearse that I backtracked through the band’s catalogue and heard these two records, which, other than the extended song structures, bear little resemblance to what Opeth would grow into. (Part of this could be attributed to the fact that the impenetrable rhythm section of Lopez and bassist Martin Mendez had yet to jump on board.) Orchid’s opening volley “In Mist She Was Standing” remains one of the band’s finest quarter-hours (literally, clocking in at 14:09), with an abundance of single-note dual-guitar harmonies, galloping 6/8 grooves, Åkerfeldt’s chilling death-metal roars, and expansive instrumental passages and brief acoustic interludes in equal measure. Åkerfeldt’s gift for composing the most gorgeously sad and moving melodies is already apparent at this early stage – note the dreary spaciousness of the movement at 5:34, which sounds like something off Pink Floyd’s Animals (1977). His wealth of ideas here is ebullient, moving through each section with a furious, don’t-look-back intensity that he would abandon by the time of Still Life; in other words, enjoy that riff while it lasts, because you won’t hear it again. It’s a wonder how lesser bands like Night in Gales and even In Flames had the stones to continue after hearing something of this caliber; in less than fifteen minutes, Opeth just trumped anything they could ever hope to write.

“In Mist She Was Standing” – Opeth 14:09 (Orchid, Candlelight 1994)

Ministry “Roadhouse Blues” The Last Sucker Megaforce 2007

I wouldn’t say I was exactly shocked at the elevated level of quality Ministry’s recently-released The Last Sucker (2007) displayed, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t slightly taken aback by it. Filth Pig (1995) was the last release from Al Jourgensen & Co. that I actually purchased, which signaled the start of a ten-year hibernation from the band as I “outgrew” their blend of angst-swelling, turbo-fueled Texas sludge – or so I thought. When I caught myself air-shredding along to last year’s Rio Grande Blood (2006), I realized that there was too much history between me and the group to abandon them completely, and the presence of Tommy Victor didn’t hurt matters in the least. The Last Sucker is the final installment in Ministry’s anti-Bush trilogy as well as the band’s swan song, and while it’s disappointing to see the group dissipate in the midst of a career revitalization, I can’t imagine a better note to go out on.

Even casual Ministry fans knew what to anticipate with this record: digitally-manipulated excerpts from Mr. President’s speeches and incendiary political rhetoric over white-hot thrash riffs and mechanized drums. When I saw the inclusion of a cover of The Doors‘ “Roadhouse Blues” in the track listing, I half-expected a Revolting Cocks-style interpretation with tongue firmly planted in cheek and a heaping dose of Jourgensen’s rednecked aplomb (Cosmo’s Invisible Oranges beat me to the punch with the mp3). What is actually delivered is a hundred times more electrifying, particularly for a song that was a lazy excuse for Morrison’s inebriated musings anyway. The leader introduces the track with a quote from The Lizard King before exploding into a “YEAH!” with the same rush of adrenaline as a leap from a skyscraper. What follows sounds like Satan leading a cracked rockabilly cover band with the amps turned to eleven, a stew of Jourgensen’s hyper-riffing, jackhammer drum programming, and even a harmonica solo, for Christ’s sake. The whole thing is so half-wittingly dumb it’s hilarious, bypassing intellect and reason to head straight for that intrinsic human nature that is responsible for banging one’s head mindlessly while making devil horns. We’ll miss you, Al.

“Roadhouse Blues” – Ministry 4:26 (The Last Sucker, Megaforce 2007)

In other areas of blogdom, Adrian from Radio Waves from Space has posted the mix I submitted to him earlier this week; check it out here. I was assigned a theme (”beautiful technology”), which inspired me to dig deep into the recesses of my archives for fodder. Make of it what you will.

With all due respect to most of the writers who contributed, Stylus’ recent 50 Greatest Rock Drummers list was hands-down the most laughably absurd and crudely presented feature I think I’ve ever read on the site. Not only is there is no apparent logic at all behind the placement of each candidate (the list seems to disregard credentials, influence, and, you know, talent for criteria such as record sales and off-stage notoriety), more importantly, it served to further establish the idea that the umbrella of “rock” has expanded into so many sub-genres and styles that comparing Clyde Stubblefield (apples) and Igor Cavalera (oranges) on the same list is not only hopelessly naïve, it’s flat-out ignorant. That and any list that places Moe Tucker some dozen slots above Neil Peart is immediately discredited on principle alone. Regardless, Stylus contributer Cosmo Lee’s Invisible Oranges inspired me to compile my own drummer list, only within the dark realms of metal and hard rock. The following ten individuals are ranked not according to speed, timing, or any other technical ability, but simply by how much I enjoy listening to their playing.

10. Mike Bordin Faith No More, Ozzy Ozbourne

Undoubtedly my first pick in the left-handed drummer category, Mike “Puffy” Bordin’s friendly, down-to-earth nature belied the tremendous force that he applied to the drum kit. Not only did his drums sound phenomenal (perhaps he tuned them to actual pitches?), but Bordin was just at ease ripping through blistering thrash patterns as he was locking into a peppy bossa rhythm, country stomp, circus waltz, or whatever Mike Patton had planned for that day’s rehearsal. And hell, I could never hold it against him that he single-handedly caused the dissolution of Faith No More by accepting the drum throne position for the Ozzfest headliner; the band was on its way out by ‘97 anyway. What Bordin left behind is a solid and tasteful body of work that any young drummer would be proud to aspire to.

“Stripsearch” – Faith No More 4:29 (Album of the Year, Slash/Reprise 1997)

09. Brann Dailor Today Is the Day, Mastodon

Although his drumming style has now matured into something resembling controlled chaos, Brann Dailor’s one-time stint with Steve Austin’s Today Is the Day and his early work with Mastodon is the musical equivalent of an ADD-riddled caffeine overdose. Purists scoffed at Dailor’s octopus-like flailing, which sounded like a Billy Cobham solo filtered through Damon Che’s technical faculty, with a heapful of drum ‘n bass skittering for good measure. On the surface, what appeared to be reckless self-indulgence of the worst order actually made perfect sense in the context of the music; Dailor’s drumming was the breath of life to those lumbering, monolithic riffs the other members threw his way. He began to tone down the level of frenzy on Leviathan (2004) and especially last year’s Blood Mountain (2006), but Dailor can still navigate through the knottiest time signature with ease, and just his snare chops alone are a wonder to behold. His energy has always been infectious, and it’s difficult to imagine another drummer who could fill his shoes in one of the most popular metal bands working today.

“Workhorse” – Mastodon 3:45 (Remission, Relapse 2002)

08. Gene Hoglan Dark Angel, Death, Strapping Young Lad

The first time I heard Gene Hoglan’s drumming, on Death’s Individual Thought Patterns (1993), I was in a state of denial. Nimble 70’s fusion, hyper-technical prog rock, and thunderous death metal were somehow combined into one singular way of playing, embodied by a dude who couldn’t be human. What’s so remarkable about Hoglan’s approach is how surprisingly musical it is, whether it was his ’80s work with LA thrashers Dark Angel or his current gig with Strapping Young Lad. Sure, he can rumble along with the heaviest of them, but there is an innate musicality in the way he provides texture and little splashes of color to liven up his drum parts. Focus solely on his ride cymbal and hi-hat accents on “Zero Tolerance” for an insight into his genius, as well as proof that it’s nearly impossible to air-drum along to the guy with any sort of accuracy.

“Zero Tolerance” – Death 4:48 (Symbolic, Roadrunner 1995)

07. Ted Parsons Swans, Prong, Godflesh, Jesu

While Ted Parsons‘ metronomic timekeeping is one of his greater claims to fame, he deserves a spot on this list because of one critical weapon that should be in every drummer’s arsenal: taste. There has never been a moment in his career where he overplayed his role, vied for the spotlight, or just flat-out butchered his drum part. The descriptor “questionable” just doesn’t apply to Parsons, not only because of his reliability and utter deference to the music, but more due to his impeccable grasp of what makes a drum pattern so satisfying, from his hip hop-influenced grooves to blindingly fast thrash attacks. On Prong’s mid-’90s releases (Cleansing [1994] and Rude Awakening [1996]) it was almost as if Parsons had transformed into a machine, his mind and limbs replaced by microchips and robotic mechanisms. He’s been working with Justin Broadrick since the turn of the century, and continues to show up at the occasional drum clinic or recording session. A generous part of Parsons’ appeal lies in his versatility, to say nothing of his shotgun-like snare on those early Prong records.

“Irrelevant Thoughts” – Prong 2:37 (Prove You Wrong, Epic 1991)

06. Igor Cavalera Sepultura

I remember when metalheads around the world acted as if it were the second coming of Christ when, upon the release of Chaos A.D. (1993), Sepultura’s Igor Cavalera began incorporating Brazilian tribal drumming into his playing. Who would have thought that those exotic rhythms would have worked so well underneath detuned thrash riffs? Since the age of fourteen, Cavalera has been providing the rhythmic foundation for one of the most popular international metal bands in the world, and his playing has influenced countless young drummers. His work on the band’s earlier records was somewhat chaotic (remember, he was still in his teens), but by the time of Beneath the Remains (1989), his authoritative, no-bullshit approach had become the backbone of the band and often the most interesting element of the music. After a twenty-year spell Cavalera left Sepultura last year (”artistic incompatibility”), but he left behind a legacy that most drummers could only dream of, not to mention one of the top ten most memorable drum performances in metal, on the group’s biggest hit “Territory.”

“Cut-Throat” – Sepultura 2:44 (Roots, Roadrunner 1996)

05. Dale Crover Melvins

It’s hard to believe that the career of the Melvins has extended beyond two decades, but here they are in 2007, still experimenting with variations on their sludge-metal formula, still capable of raw and uncompromising heaviness, and still batshit insane. Dale Crover’s thundering, heavy-handed approach to the kit has contributed to the band’s trajectory perhaps more than his alter ego King Buzzo, and certainly more than whatever poor soul happens to be filling in the bassist’s slot at the moment. Crover has always operated under his own labyrinthine logic, attacking each component of the modern drum kit with a furious determination that alternates between shocking and straight-up bizarre; and if one suddenly finds him slipping into a standard 4/4 rock pattern, it’s probably for his own ironic amusement. Stylistically, there simply isn’t another drummer in existence that could be compared to him, a crushing, brute force that propels the music forward with an almost violent momentum. Crover’s secret weapon is the element of surprise, as he always opts for playing something that one would never expect any drummer to play, whether it’s imitating a clumsy six-year-old on his first two-piece setup or conjuring sheets of white-noise cymbal soundscapes. He looks scary as hell to boot and I’d venture to guess that he’s clinically deranged on some level, but God bless the dude for keeping me entertained some fifteen years now.

“Manky” – Melvins 4:36 (The Maggot, Ipecac 1999)

04. John Stanier Helmet, Tomahawk, Battles

Few drummers hold such an air-drum addiction as John Stanier. Let’s put aside the fact that one could write an entire musical dissertation on the ability of his right foot and focus on his hip hop-influenced approach, his often-overlooked speed, and the direct and raw brutality of his playing. Plus, the guy has the best snare fills of anyone I’ve ever heard. Stanier’s greatest contribution to the modern drum manual is that it’s perfectly acceptable to inject a little groove underneath a riff, and the lack of double bass drums doesn’t have to necessarily hinder one’s style; just listen to the number of pinched kick hits during the verses of “FBLA” to glean some insight into his revolutionary approach. I was afraid when Helmet disbanded back in the late ’90s that I’d never hear from him again, but Stanier has only refined his playing, returning to challenge himself with Mike Patton’s Tomahawk and his current outfit Battles. Then again, he could sit in with The Roots and still move the crowd just as effectively as ?uestlove. His shit just bumps like that.

“FBLA” – Helmet 2:40 (Strap It On, Amphetamine Reptile 1990)

03. Martin Lopez Opeth

As one of the few who was utterly disillusioned with Opeth’s Ghost Reveries (2005) upon its release, I figured that if anyone could pull the band out of the keyboard-laced wankery of their new direction, it would be drummer Martin Lopez. When I heard of his departure from the group earlier last year, I could only hang my head in frustration as I watched my favorite active metal band slowly unravel (guitarist Peter Lindgren’s withdrawal back in May was yet another nail in the coffin). I’m unsure of his future plans, but Lopez could man the kit for a power-pop band led by some mascara-scarred emo brat and I’d still buy their record. Since his opening percussive slaughter on “April Ethereal” from My Arms, Your Hearse (1998) (his debut with the band), his versatility and fluidity have been absolutely critical to the development of Opeth’s sound. Through beautiful twelve-minute epics of mysterious complexity, countless variations in tempo and feel, and head-spinning time signatures, perhaps Lopez’s greatest skill lies in the fact that he makes it all seem so easy. I’m struggling to think of another drummer who has displayed such proficiency over the course of six full-length albums for any band, metal or otherwise. Martin Lopez, you will be sorely, sorely, missed.

“Godhead’s Lament” – Opeth 9:47 (Still Life, KOCH 1999)

02. Dave Lombardo Slayer, Grip Inc., Fantomas

He’s Dave Lombardo. Of course he’s going to be on this list. Feel that subterranean roar ripping through your chest? That’s just Dave Lombardo’s double bass drum work. Or how about that crackling explosion in your neck that’s now surging down your spine? That’s just Dave Lombardo executing a descending tom fill with perfect accuracy and timing. Hear every note that your favorite metal drummer just played? That’s because of Dave Lombardo and his massive influence on modern metal. An old friend and I used to play this game where we’d construct various “calling cards” with his name, like: Dave “Other Drummers Are Just Lesser Deities” Lombardo. Or Dave “My Floor Tom Just Crushed Your Skull” Lombardo. Go ahead, say his name out loud. Chant it like a mantra. Then take a look at his résumé, now nearing the 30-year mark, and tell me that there is another individual out there whose drum throne sits higher than that of the king of metal drumming.

“Hostage to Heaven” – Grip Inc. 3:57 (Power of Inner Strength, Metal Blade 1995)

01. Ken Owen Carcass, Blackstar

I know, I know – it seems like I’m incapable of discussing any aspect of metal without bringing up Carcass or their masterpiece Heartwork (1993), but precious few records have resonated as much within me, and it strongly remains my favorite metal album of all time these many years later. See, like most folks, I have this mental list of things to do before I die: skydiving from 13,000 feet above the earth, hiking the Andes, lolling for a month in some Mediterranean villa, transcribing every note of Ken Owen’s drum work on Heartwork to study and cherish. Not to slight the band’s earlier grindcore material (or the less popular country-fried stoner metal of their later stuff), but had Owen never played another note of music besides Heartwork, he would still be at the top of this list. The term “thinking man’s drummer” would be applicable were it not such a tired cliché, because every pattern Owen blesses with his ridiculously skillful chops seems honed to perfection after months of contemplation. Lightning-fast blastbeats, mid-tempo grooves, stomping tom patterns, militaristic snare rolls – Owen did it all, with equal parts savage and elegance that no drummer to date has been able to match.

“Carnal Forge” – Carcass 3:55 (Heartwork, Earache 1993)