Indricothere

We Say...

Review by John Darnielle

The coining of the term "math-rock" was a sad day for good instrumental rock bands, since it provided naysayers with a catch-all for dismissing anything deftly played and vocalist-deficient. Indricothere arrives already battle-seasoned against such stuff, though: it's a one-man band piloted by Colin Marston, who's an anomaly, or at least one of a rare breed: a guy who loves his work so much that he's willing to follow it wherever it leads. His creative energies are restless and far-reaching, and his curiosity seems limited only to how much time he has on his hands - Indricothere seems to be a one-off he knocked out when not busy playing in Dysrhythmia, Krallice, Behold...the Arctopus, and doubtless several others we haven't run into yet.

Indricothere's self-titled album is essentially a drum-machine-assisted riff-fest, and for people who like that kind of party, it's a corker. Time-signatures change reliably every thirty-two bars or so, but there's nothing abrupt or distracted in the shifts — instead, there's heavy joy in the structures at play here, a real attention to the details of texture and mood and flow. And as to the riffs themselves, well: one hesitates to invoke the glories of early Metallica, or Rodan's Rusty, but it can't be helped: that's how ecstatic Marston feels immersing himself in quick changes and cosmic soloing. "IV," especially, boasts a briefly soaring lead worth singling out; if you're not scared away by a reference to Joe Satriani, then take that for what it's worth and do what you need to do. File this one under "electric guitars, electric guitars, and more electric guitars," which is to say, "keeper."