Great White Hope

Let’s talk about the cover art first. An androgynous figure redolent of both Ziggy Stardust-era David Bowie and Mechanical Animals-era Marilyn Manson looks away, eyes and nose peeking rabbit-like through an amazing Technicolor balaclava, brushstroke hair dancing upward like flames. The figure’s man-hands are held pensive beneath pert breasts. Partly censoring the breasts is the title of the eponymous album: White Arms of Athena. The music inside could literally be anything. The cover instantly provokes a reaction, and it also creates an expectation, one that will differ from person to person. This expectation is shaped by aesthetic taste, but also how many times one has either been suckered or led to treasure by a provocative cover.

“Truth, The Greatest Lie Ever Told” is a strictly a capella introduction whose choral tones and lyrical conceptualizing continues to raise the stakes. “Heavy Sleep” is the first real taste of White Arms of Athena’s sound, but it does not do much to clear things up. The song is a sort of nebulous cloud of heavy styles, with earnestly strained singing, somewhat dissonant guitar chords, a moderate pace, and an undercooked lyrical concept about unseen tormentors and blurred lines between sleep and wakefulness.

“On the Edge” is where White Arms of Athena takes an awkward turn, one from which it never really recovers. Here the band pull the tour van over at P.O.D. and 311’s joint yard sale and pick up a few used Rasta dreadlock wigs (with caps). The result is kind of a disaster. Chiming post-rock guitar tones echo and dance with some finesse, but the affected honkstafarian vocals and corny lyrics-of-uplift are too much to take seriously. The last two minutes of “On the Edge” have a winsome soaring openness to them, but by then the damage has been done and it’s far too late.

11-minute epic “This Transition” seems ripe for a showcase, but those hoping for a heavy “Siberian Khatru” will be stomping on their hats, as “This Transition” actually consists of a long noise/ambient intro, followed by maybe three distinct parts, at least two of which sounds like “On the Edge,” albeit with some harsh vocals sprinkled in for texture.

“Manifest; Withdrawal” has a somewhat catchy main riff, and the guitars engage in interesting interplay throughout, but like the other songs, there’s just some lack of tightness in the concepts and in the songwriting that makes it difficult to really place White Arms of Athena side-by-side with the thousands of other metal bands who have mature, well-developed aesthetics.

So in the end, the White Arms of Athena cover art doesn’t really say much at all. It’s an attention grab, but not a sleazy or disingenuous one. There is an unmistakable sense of millennial optimism to White Arms of Athena, but to be clear, the album sounds like a promising demo CD – no more and no less. The band are off to a decent start, but the honkstafarian shtick is distracting, and the loose, rambling songs offer little for listeners to hang on to.

Still, there is at least one glimmer of true dynamism. “Time is Nothing (Or Maybe Just One Thing)” is a stringed-only interlude that sounds like a strange collaboration between Joe Satriani and the guitar solos from Slayer. White Arms of Athena pull this melding off with exquisite grace, fostering a palpable sense of wonder and yearning that recalls the compelling magic of Old Man Gloom’s “Sonic Dust.” One wishes they had somehow pursued this. And perhaps they will, for as much as White Arms of Athena lacks the sheen of a realized confidence, it still captures a band with plenty of music in their future.