Avenged Sevenfold, have released their latest sonic onslaught with a heartfelt message for their fans: “Fuck you.” Their new album, titled “Life Is But a Dream…,” is an intricate tapestry of cognitive dissonance and unbridled hallucinatory chaos, reminiscent of a Salvador Dali painting after a hit of peyote.
From the gritty underbelly of Huntington Beach, California, the band has sent shockwaves through the music industry and across social media, weaving an absurd tale of musical rebellion. This high decibel, multi-sensory assault takes listeners on a journey into the mind of someone who’s just mixed acid tabs with an industrial quantity of Skittles, followed by a swift kick in the auditory glands.
“This album was inspired by our recent lockdown experiments with lysergic acid diethylamide and Sugar-Free Red Bull,” shares lead vocalist, M. Shadows, with a gleam in his eye that would make any health professional sweat bullets. “It was either this, or start a podcast.“
The album kicks off with a 15-minute bagpipe solo, titled “Drowning in Whisky Lullabies,” that leaves you feeling like you’ve been serenaded by a melodically deranged banshee, whilst weaving through the acoustic minefield that follows. Listeners are then subjected to a daring duet with Siri in “Algorithmic Despair,” where the digital diva shares a harrowing tale of unrequited love in a world dominated by autocorrect.
“Shit, if we knew what was going on half the time, we’d be scared too,” Shadows adds, his smirk indicating a complete surrender to the madness of their new music direction.
The middle of the album, aptly named “Chaos Carousel,” is a psychedelic rollercoaster of warbling synthesizers, ear-piercing falsettos, and a completely unwarranted didgeridoo solo. It’s clear the band members have cast aside their shackles of conventional musicality and decided to flirt dangerously with the realms of the avant-garde.
Bassist Johnny Christ chimes in, “You think you know ‘weird’? Wait until you hear ‘Screams of the Damned Harpsichord’. It’s like Mozart and Ozzy Osbourne had a musical love-child during an episode of the Twilight Zone.“
Indeed, the album ends with the unprecedented 27-minute epic “Hallucinogenic Symphony No.7(x),” a sensory jambalaya of crashing cymbals, haunting theremin, and Shadows reciting the Fibonacci sequence backwards in a druidic chant.
Synyster Gates, the band’s lead guitarist, dons a mad scientist persona, referring to the album as “our pet monster, birthed from boredom, fed with insanity, and nurtured with a healthy dose of what-the-fuckery.”
“Life Is But a Dream…” delivers on its promise. It’s a disorienting sonic carnival ride that invites its listeners to question the very fabric of reality, and probably their taste in music. This is Avenged Sevenfold, fresh out of fucks to give, pushing the envelope of musical sanity off a metaphorical cliff, and reminding us all why it’s generally unwise to mix heavy metal with hallucinogens.
Like a late-night infomercial, the album shouts in your face: “This is why you don’t do drugs, kids.”
