Every Record I Own - Day 858: Mastodon Remission
On the first Botch European tour back in 1999, our tour intersected with a Neurosis / Voivod / Today Is The Day tour in Rennes, France. Unfortunately, Today Is The Day didn’t actually play the show, because Steve Austin had flown back to the States to deal with a dental issue. But his two bandmates stayed behind and continued traveling with Neurosis. They were a friendly pair named Bill and Brann.
Within the year, our producer friend Matt Bayles mentioned that he was recording an EP for a new band out of Atlanta. “They’re called Mastodon,” he said, “and I think you know a couple of the guys in the band… Bill and Brann were in Today Is The Day.” Matt would go on to record their full-length Remission not long after.
While the Lifesblood EP was good, it wasn’t until Remission landed that Mastodon really caught my ear. Back in 2002, I preferred my metal to have a strong punk edge to it and Mastodon had a bit more of fretboard flash than I usually went for, but there was still something sufficiently crusty and grimy in their sound. It had that manic punk energy where it feels like everything is about to rattle apart at the seams, like each member is trying to push his bandmates to go harder. It was heavy. It was frantic. It had melody, but still veered towards ugliness. And it was impossible to deny the opening one-two punch of “Crusher Destroyer” and “March of the Fire Ants” or the epic scope of tracks like “Ol'e Nessie.”
Mastodon wound up camping out in Seattle for several weeks back in the Spring of 2004 to record their sophomore album Leviathan, and I wound up at a bar with a few of the guys in the band. I remember bringing up Melvins’ Lysol album and their guitarist Brent lit up. “That’s the best opening of an album in all of rock music. Two chords and feedback for all of Side A!”
I loved that this guy who was an absolute shredder of a guitarist was championing Melvins’ antagonistic minimalism. It added a whole new context to Mastodon’s music. These weren’t a bunch of guys trying to show off their chops. This was just the music that they had to make. And rather than imitating their heroes in Melvins and Neurosis, they went in the opposite direction and wrote these advanced-level riffs and proggy compositions because… well… that’s what happened when you put the four members of the band in a rehearsal room together.
I’ve been listening to a lot of Mastodon since Brent Hinds passing back in August, and it’s been a trip to revisit the early records when the band was still this scrappy and feral metallic beast building their reputation by obliterating the crowds in these tiny hole-in-the-wall venues. Success was right around the corner with their sophomore album Leviathan, but there was a certain magic in the music they made in those hungry, lean, and desperate early years.