Tallah – Matriphagy (Album Review)

There hasn’t exactly been a clamoring for nu-metal’s revival, an eclectic style which has long been relegated to the list of sub-genres that people love to hate. Nu-metal saw its dawn in those early days of what came to define a generation of popular culture, dipping its toes into the budding hunger for a tech-heavy future while cementing itself into the foundation of the 2000s. Given this origin story, it seems only fitting that the up-and-coming face of the genre’s rebirth comes from a youthful quartet eager to cut their teeth in the present music industry alongside the unique tides of modern misanthropy. A striking union between a YouTube-famous vocal powerhouse and a legacy drummer who bears an unmistakable moniker have come roaring onto center stage, demanding the spotlight as they ensure the world is watching them make their mark. This is the essence of Tallah, bursting forth unabashed in all of their dazzling fervor and chaos. 

Tallah draws most of their influence from the raw heart of nu-metal with an imaginative lens of metalcore to offset the former’s monochrome. Record scratches which seem to be pulled straight from the early 2000s couple with the hearty chugging expected of any self-respecting metalcore act, vocals plunging from furious spitfire down to deafening screams before soaring upwards once more. “Matriphagy” may be a debut by name, but the collective experience of its members have permitted Tallah to not just reach for the stars but simultaneously scrape at the belly of the underworld to create a concept album rooted in violence and insanity. Vocalist Justin Bonitz joined Tallah following four full-length releases under his project Hungry Lights among other ventures, a recruit that drummer Max Portnoy sought to build Tallah’s earliest foundations years prior. Their 2018 EP “No One Should Read This” was a shocking and promising predecessor to the present “Matriphagy,” which now tells the complete conceptual tale of a man torn apart by a series of graphic and torturous events. The pure commitment Tallah demonstrates to this concept is apparent from the sonic chaos sown throughout the album’s thirteen tracks, tying together an inseparable story and listening experience. By the time “Matriphagy” draws to a close it’s clear that the pervasive darkness that gives the album its depth has a tendency to linger, lines of sanity blurred between the literal and artistic. 

Some vocalists have charisma so saccharine that it bleeds through each of their words and wraps around an open heart like the world’s purest lullaby. Bonitz possesses the strength of a beast on the sheer opposite end of the spectrum from charisma: he is chaos and he is intimidation, daunting in the oppressive force of his unstoppable vocal might. The sheer presence of his villainous potential borders on that of caricature, so over-the-top that ‘theatrics’ hardly begin to describe his inflection. No matter the style or intonation he chooses for delivery, his verses tear like fangs through flesh and sinew, a wall of fury with undeniable intrigue at its center. Upon first listen it may seem like Tallah hosts a litany of vocalists, their work stuffed full of fire-licked rapped verses, trembling whimpers, and furious deep growls that seem to rise up from sulfurous hellfire. Yet these are all entities contained in Bonitz himself, with so many sides that the many personalities of Tallah’s unique aggression work seamlessly well. “No One Should Read This” is the first teaser of what Bonitz brings to the table, but it’s just the beginning. No song displays his versatility better than the show-stopping “Red Light,” where Bonitz switches from anguished howling to soaring operatic choruses as though he were two men in one. A note to his skill, this is not a talent relegated to the masters of production: the one-take vocal video for “Red Light” shows this artist’s dexterity with much more clarity than the polished audio of “Matriphagy.” Whether he is bellowing like an extreme metal veteran in “Too Quick to Grieve” or peppering tracks with manic laughter, Bonitz is a force of nature worth keeping an eye on both within Tallah and beyond. It should be noted that this is not a gimmick which first surfaced with Tallah: his earth-shaking Hungry Light’s release “Mudoo Ra” sees the same practiced versatility as “Matriphagy,” yet on a drastically different stage. 

It is patently unfair to compare two artists merely as a matter of blood, but there’s no denying that there’s something special that ran from the senior Portnoy to his junior. “Matriphagy” is a unique balance of percussive daring and precision, not so focused on speed or the violence of this drummer’s craft as much as creating a personality that blossoms behind the kit.  “Matriphagy” provides proof that the younger Portnoy is all thunder and daring, swallowing blast beats of “We the Sad” or matching the guttural crawl in “Kungan” without hesitation. Best of all, Portnoy is afforded attention without his percussion drowning out the hearty chugging of dueling guitars and bass. His particular position in the mix is just as much a work of art in production as it requires for him to match the crescendos and chaos that “Matriphagy” demands of him. His fluidity across various demands is like that of water, including the rolling ramp-ups to the boiling point in “The Silo” and “Too Quick to Grieve.” His integral role in supporting the many switches on the vocal front give Tallah even greater compositional strength, and a clear indication that despite their still-developing identity, Tallah is keeping instrumental balance in mind as they build their sound. 

Though certainly it is Bonitz and Portnoy which draw the most attention on the album, it’s worth giving a nod towards the strings which keep the band’s more furious forces of nature tethered. Colorful bass expands on Tallah’s depth, and though it is predominantly a gravelly chugging which pulls “Matriphagy” along, there are songs such as “Placenta” which give rise to bright and piercing solos. Driven concentration flourishes on the riffs of “The Silo,” serving as the natural segue into Portnoy’s isolated drumming. The greatest strength of songwriting as directed towards both guitar and bass is that they do not try to match the fury and discord of Bonitz or Portnoy, but instead take a supporting role that restrains “Matriphagy” to the realm of palatable. Were there any more aggression or fury that match the unhinged frenzy that dominates in the forward edge there would be little hope of swallowing the punches “Matriphagy” delivers, but Tallah has managed to settle their aggression on the edge of a fault line without falling in headfirst. 

Perhaps it takes a global pandemic and a heavy dose of global unrest for the appeal of nu-core to be fully realized, or perhaps it just takes a group with as much inventive dedication as Tallah to pull off a project this ambitious. “Matriphagy” is best consumed with heavy weights in sweat-slicked hands, or with headphones turned all the way up and adequate room to headbang. Its infectious energy is so intense right out of the gate that even the most critical voices of the genre, both past and present, will likely be unable to resist its raw aggression. Given that “Matriphagy” is stuffed with everything and the kitchen sink that surpasses even the likes of Korn, it’s fascinating to imagine where Tallah will go from here. Frankly, it would be interesting to see if their predecessors such as Korn and Slipnot would be either impressed or horrified by what their inspiration has created. But for the meantime, it’s best to devour the madness of “Matriphagy” whole.

It seems that finally, nu-metal is dead: long live nu-core.

Released By: Earache Records
Release Date: October 2nd, 2020
Genre: Nu-Core

Musicians:

• Justin Bonitz / Vocals
• Max Portnoy / Drums
• Derrick Schneider / Guitars
• Andrew Cooper / Bass

“Matriphagy” Track-listing:

1. [redacted]
2. No One Should Read This
3. Kungan
4. Overconfidence
5. Placenta
6. L.E.D
7. The Silo
8. We, the Sad
9. Too Quick to Grieve
10. Cottonmouth
11. Murder Seed
12. the borderline of pain
13. Red Light