review by: Avi Shaked

This second 2005 release by Henning Pauly continues the similar path of the lunatic, charged outlet he has unleashed on his recent and superb Frameshift release (Absence of Empathy, reviewed in issue #39), while exploring new sounds and tricks.

Juan Roos (Transmission) is handling most of the vocals on the album. His singing style is quite close to Sebastian Bach’s (who handled the vocals on the aforementioned album). His performance is full of guts, driven by the excellent, extroverted insanity that is contained within the songwriting; and yet it is delicate enough to bring out the sheer honesty of its emotional plane, even on its more superficial or childish moments ("They never play my favorite song so I can never sing along" on "Radio Sucks"). The venting declarations ("I don’t wanna be a rockstar") serve as significant hooks to which the listener can relate, as well as color the album with hilarious tones.

Pauly himself does everything he can to live up to his vision by his musical conductance. His jargon of sounds is truly remarkable and refreshing, as it combines so many worlds with ease. At one moment he plays the meanest guitar, while the next one he pulls some bizarre industrial and production pranks that would make Trent Reznor wish he had thought of them first. At some points he unveils another secret weapon in the form of his wild banjo playing (now, how many times have you heard a banjo in metal? And let me tell you, it fits masterfully). His technical level is highly impressive, and yet this does not turn the album into a mechanical manifest.

Much like the approach presented on the aforementioned Frameshift album, electronic metal, symphonic metal, hard rock and even rap blend here remarkably well, sometimes intentionally verging on the ridiculous. Credit Where Credit is Due is a further testament to Pauly’s outstanding talent, and I hope it’s only a matter of time until he receives the respect and attention he so rightly deserves. (8.7/10)

ed’s note: check out Belgian black metal band Lugubrum for more unabashed banjo.