In Flames – Clayman

I remember clearly the day I bought this album. It was getting darker by the minute. The bright day was transformed into a gloom that made everyone depressed. The minibus (gosh I miss those days) driver was madder than normal. The lady who took my order of fish-and-chips was acting all weird and moody (PMS can be a real pain). Even the street peddlers who were busy frying deep-fried things were all lugubrious.

Except for me.

That day would be the starting point for my evolution into the Chris that I am now. The album in question is the catalyst for it all. From humble beginnings as an ardent listener of long-dead classical composers, The Beatles, Elvis Presley and a host of other artistes my parents listened to and 80’s stuff from my sisters, I was about to embark on a totally new, and somewhat frightening musical endeavour. I was a chain-wearing, bespectacled wannabe ruffian, “nu-metal” purveyor (nu-metal does not exist, for the mere fact that it is not metal to begin with but that’s another story altogether), bored with all the Limp Bizkits, Korns, and other wimpy bands.

Before I decided to get this album, I did a lot of research to make sure that what I was about to buy wouldn’t leave me really pissed and RM70 poorer. I read countless reviews, comments and when I finally downloaded a song, I was instantly hooked. It was an experience like no other: the vocals were horrid, like a man pinching his throat, the drummer’s pounding the daylights out of his kit but it was the guitars; the melodies, the solos, the riffs, everything, that sealed the deal. I wanted it and I wanted it right now. And the rest is history.

As much as I abhor current In Flames, this album holds a very special place in my metal heart. With dubious songs titles such as Pinball Map (the aforementioned song I downloaded earlier), Swim, and Another Day in Quicksand, I owe my metalness to these songs. In school I was quietly and superiorly smug, I was different from the rest. While they were still drooling over rock infused with (c)rap, I was a man listening to real man’s stuff. While my friends were into hip-hop and easy listening rock bands like Incubus, Hoobastank (stupid name for a band), Papa Roach, in my CD player was underground metal from Sweden, the land of blonde bombshells and meaty meatballs.

Granted, this is the beginning of the end for these Swedish metallers. In hindsight, this is a sub par, hook driven album. It is essentially the metal equivalent of a pop album: the choruses are merciless in their catchiness, the riffs are no more the colourful work that drove their earlier releases now replaced with a desperate urge to make it catchy and jumpdafuckable. It just screams sell-out and is rightly so.

What’s interesting to note is that while this is a downright painful and embarrassing moment in my personal history, it must be said that without this sell-out album I wouldn’t be where I am now. So thank you In Flames, for setting me the foundation to bang my head silly, stick my tongue out, wield the devil horns like a man high on Red Bull and ultimately, the metalhead I am today.

Initial Review: 9/10

Current Review: 6/10