Come Hell, Come High Water

Ranka kustannus have unleashed something upon the world with Cyan Kicks' debut, "Come Hell, Come High Water", and I can only assume they've also released a team of hazmat specialists to deal with the fallout. This isn't an album; it's a protracted endurance test for anyone unfortunate enough to press play. The band clearly aspire to something grand – a collision of progressive metal intricacy and melodic accessibility – but the result is less 'epic journey' and more 'stumbling through a swamp in ill-fitting boots'. It's a frustrating experience, precisely because glimpses of potential are buried beneath layers of ineptitude.

The initial impression isn't catastrophic. "From the Bottom of My Heart" opens with what seems like genuine promise: a brooding atmosphere, vaguely reminiscent of early Opeth, and some interesting harmonic movement. However, this quickly dissolves into a chaotic mess of jarring transitions and ill-conceived instrumental flourishes. The drumming throughout is consistently erratic – a relentless barrage of fills that serve no purpose other than to demonstrate the drummer's lack of restraint. It's as if they were given a bucket of percussion instruments and told to 'have at it', with absolutely zero regard for musicality or cohesion.

This isn't metal; it's a sonic car crash viewed through a funhouse mirror.

The songwriting itself is bafflingly inconsistent. "Echo" attempts a soaring, anthemic feel, but the vocals – delivered with an unsettling blend of earnestness and incompetence – completely undermine any sense of grandeur. The lyrics are equally perplexing; a jumble of clichés and nonsensical phrases that suggest the band spent more time Googling 'deep' words than actually crafting meaningful content. Then there's "I LOVE U2", a track so bizarre it almost defies description. It seems to be an attempt at ironic commentary, but lands squarely in the territory of unintentional comedy.

The production does little to alleviate these problems. The mix is muddy and unbalanced, burying crucial elements within a wall of distortion. Guitars sound thin and lifeless, while the bass is practically nonexistent. There's a distinct lack of dynamic range; everything sits at a consistently loud level, which only serves to exacerbate the feeling of sonic fatigue. Even tracks that show fleeting moments of competence, like "Welcome, Darling", are ultimately dragged down by the album's pervasive flaws.

"Don't you say I didn't warn you" is a particularly egregious example of the band's misguided ambition. It's an eight-minute epic filled with tempo changes, key modulations, and enough pointless instrumental passages to bore even the most dedicated progressive metal fan. The track feels less like a carefully constructed piece of music and more like a collection of random ideas thrown together in the hope that something might stick. And it doesn't. It just…ends.

The latter half of the album offers little respite. "Flowers" is an embarrassingly saccharine ballad, while "Come Hell, Come High Water" (the title track) attempts to recapture the brooding atmosphere of the opening track but fails miserably. The closing pair, "Alone" and "Dancing with Demons", are simply tedious exercises in repetitive riffing and predictable song structures.

The band's technical proficiency is undeniable – there are moments where individual musicians demonstrate flashes of genuine talent. But technical skill alone does not a good album make. What's sorely lacking here is any sense of musicality, songwriting craft, or even basic taste. This isn't metal; it's a sonic car crash viewed through a funhouse mirror.

The ambition to create something complex and emotionally resonant is admirable, but Cyan Kicks have completely missed the mark. "Come Hell, Come High Water" is an exhausting, frustrating, and ultimately pointless listening experience. It's a testament to the fact that complexity does not equal quality, and that sometimes, less really is more.

This album isn't just bad; it's actively offensive to anyone who appreciates well-crafted metal music. Avoid at all costs. The only hell I'm coming from is the one where I demand my listening time back.