Tardigrade Inferno – Hush


Most metal artists experimenting with unfamiliar genres are quick to reject descriptions imposed on them by critics, though Russian quartet, Tardigrade Inferno, are not afraid to label their music “dark cabaret metal.” It makes sense to get there first before others can put you in a box. The question is whether it works on a musical level, and for album number three, it’s an unequivocal yes.

Are you ready for some macabre music with curled eyelashes and a concealed knife? The spooky keyboards and dramatic power chord movements in ‘The Final Show’ open up a chamber of sweep-picking guitars and synths before falling under the spell of chunky palm-muted rhythms. Cabaret supremo, Darya Rorria, is at home here with her sinister smile and sporadic foray into death metal gutturals. You know the mood of this record within two minutes. ‘Hide’n’Seek’ thrives on the type of Mike Patton death metal chant you can find in his Fantômas and Mr Bungle works. Close your eyes, and it could be Japanese horror metal adventurists, Dir En Grey. Listen how the same syncopated riff holds everything together as the bass and drums attack it from either side. Darya Rorria sings her words as if casting a spell on a member of the bourgeoisie. Musically, the pianos and vibrato-heavy guitar solos are fiendish enough to give you goosebumps.

Here’s the advice for those that want to swing: take that umbrella and forget about being Fred Astaire – today, you are the wicked witch of the east. Though the songs seldom deviate from a pop structure, they make each instrument count, especially the power of the guitar. Darya Rorria’s ability to hold on to a note like a woman refusing to let go of a man’s Rolex-wearing hand is as impressive as her soulful contralto voice. Her femme fatale role would be enough to retain your attention on its own, but the quality of the metallic riffing and playful keyboard fills give you a wider package of entertainment. The outcome of ‘Deadly Fairytales’ is like Faith No More parodying Megadeth in the 1990s (respectfully, of course). By contrast, the vicious shadowing of guitar to the swing beat in ‘Goor’ reminds us how metal still has space to explore the Portishead and Goldfrapp angle without being stale. Observe how the brooding bass wallows in its own distortion like a pig in mud.

But let’s address the elephant in the room: Jinjer could do with a reminder of what made them interesting before they turned into a tech metal band with less appeal than Ulcerate. Imagine how much better their last album would’ve been with a couple of devilish cabaret metal songs like ‘Dead Fish Smile’ and ‘Subatomic Heist’. You feel like the child pulling on the beanstalk in search of treasure in the clouds during the former, while the latter harnesses punk rock as its main weapon with abundant drum fills and a deliberate melodrama for you to enjoy with a good old-fashioned cigarette. The band can also thrash in head-banging style when the costume change demands it. See the thunderous intro to ‘I.C.D.’ before Darya Rorria borrows the vocal lines from Madonna’s ‘Vogue’ in the opening verse. How easy would it be to neglect the audio engineering of the guitar and rhythm section and let the vocals lead the way? It’s to their credit that Tardigrade Inferno do not allow this to happen. A dizzying whirl of slamming guitar and cat screaming before the final chorus is exactly what we need.

Perhaps the only criticism is that one or two tracks here sound like gleeful Punk goes Pop compilations released by Fearless Records in the 2000s (see ‘Hush’), though the material here would be a darker defilement compared to the crappy punk artists that took great pride in lampooning Katy Perry and Maroon 5. You can’t hurl this accusation at them for the grubby doom metal suspense of closing track, ‘I Am Eternal’, which sees Darya Rorria play the role of a rose between two thorns with great skill. The icy keyboards are central to this success, falling like snowdrops on a robin’s nest as intermittent child choirs accent the chorus lines. It’s one of the few times they dare to move away from the verse-chorus format without wandering to the point of no return. This precarious balance is what makes Hush such a delightful record.

Kirk Houghton


Verdict