By Dolphin Whisperer
Whatever mood suits you—perhaps none at all if you prefer deathly excursions of the older and fetid variety—Fallujah’s alien guitar identity consistently earns them a notch on the altar atop many a post-The Faceless tech death connoisseur’s mantle. Yet, the path that Fallujah walks has not always been one of extreme innovation. Rather, in spindly idiosyncrasies and heavyweight melodic ripples, the California riffslingers have whipped their way from roots in crushing yet entrancing death metal (The Harvest Wombs, The Flesh Prevails), through increasing gazey atmospherics (Dreamless, Undying Light), and into a flexed, teched out expression of all their past lives (Empyrean). And in that same vein of iterative development within a crystallizing, whammy-fluid style, Xenotaph looks to enrich the treble palate of a wanting audience.
Taking pleasure in the brighter vibrations of an extended-range string supply, founding guitarist Scott Carstairs, in closed-eye bends and chord quivers, defines the breathy ambience of Fallujah’s jittery developments. Not world’s away from 2023’s Empyrean, Xenotaph finds a harmonic shell in lush guitar layers that skirt the line between deep atmosphere and technical bounce. And breezing through with a trim song set that navigates a bevy of Cynic-coded trickling riffage (“Labyrinth of Stone,” “The Crystalline Veil”) and kick-saturated sprints (“Kaleidoscopic Waves,” “Xenotaph”) alike, Fallujah weaves a through line of sticky guitar candy. Returning vocalist Kyle Schaefer continues to be a chameleonic—if polarizing to the oldest fans—presence that stitches with aggressive, pitched yells, towering, gruff barks, and glistening, melodic core cleans, allowing Xenotaph to saunter down a familiar but kindly bent road.
In turn, guitar pyrotechnics come stock in the Fallujah package. Carstairs and new recruit Sam Mooradian (Inhale Existence) use their fiery and slippery talents to skew Xenotaph toward flypaper melodies and crunchy atmosphere rather than directionless, shreddy excess. Whether at the twinkle of gentle reverb on clean drives (“In Stars We Drown,” “A Parasitic Dream,” “The Obsidian Architect”), dancing play of panning refrains (“Kaleidoscopic Waves,” “Step…,” “Xenotaph”), or furious tremolo-bouncing riffage, this well-practiced duo makes every stutter-loaded passage feel buttery. In response, the inherent wandering nature of a soundscape that threatens the relaxing alien jazz of a Holdsworth1 finds a grounded landing in Thordendal (Meshuggah, Fredrik Thordendal‘s Special Defects) solo bleating (“Xenotaph”) and the kind of staccato The Faceless riffage that has defined a generation of low-gain, techy endeavors. In a slight step back on the production front, Xenotaph sees bass virtuoso Evan Brewer (Entheos,2 ex-Animosity) relegated to popping backing on skronky chord stabs, muffled boom alongside pitter-patter kick, and light rumble accent. The Otero compression method does succeed, though, in ensuring that each and every guitar passage cuts and twirls and dives with all the precision required to bore deep into a tablature-gawking mind.
Even if some tones find too much restraint, the endless and lush guitar layers that scaffold Xenotaph add to a rewarding, repeatable listen. While Fallujah hasn’t ever dabbled fully in the concept album world, recurring melodies flicker and warp and recontextualize throughout, tying tight pseudo-suites between Xenotaph’s strongest moments (“Labyrinth…” through “Step…,” “A Parasitic Dream” through “Xenotaph”). With this kind of blended and moment-blurry track timeline, though, placing an exact finger on the pulse that penetrates through to memory can be tough. It’s easy to get stuck in which rapid fire kick run3 was it that built tension before a wild solo, or which bent and wobbled dreamy lead carried that choppy riff to another choppy riff or which breakaway melodic chorus punched away to a meditative bridge. But Fallujah revels in extreme detail—the choral recollection that both opens and closes Xenotaph in loop, the chewiest melodic chorus this side of peak Tesseract (“The Crystalline Veil”), the flippant vocal modulations that run wild (“Labyrinth…, “The Obsidian Architect”). In novel pleasantries, Xenotaph finds a comfortable and developmental home.
Fallujah wears a collected calm and fun that can be hard for a veteran tech act to maintain. In Carstairs’ unique and effortless play—the backbone of all this act’s modern efforts—high note count riffage and solos find space to expand and nestle, and flourish. And in his reliable supporting cast, one seemingly cultivated of friendship, Xenotaph follows that same sentiment despite seeing Fallujah again fall into modern production stylings that raise more philosophical sound debate than I’d prefer. But if these are the kinds of questions Fallujah has to ask of their sound to keep growing, I’m content to bear witness to the fruits of their particular brand of floating and flamboyant internal dialogue.
Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 5 | Format Reviewed: 320 kbps mp3
Label: Nuclear Blast | Bandcamp
Websites: fallujah.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/fallujahofficial
Releases Worldwide: June 13th, 20254
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