You might not find a bigger supporter than me of *not* listening to a band solely because it’s the thousandth installment of third-generation At the Gates clones. Seems reasonable, doesn’t it? And within the first five seconds of Riders of the Plague, it’s obvious that goddamn Swedish Gothenburg death is where The Absence owes their musical existence. Yes, again.
Don’t hit stop, though. Because as much as it’s apparent where The Absence is getting their inspiration from, they do it so well (and I daresay perhaps better than anyone else has aped it, ever) that you can’t help but get into this album almost as if you were hearing the style for the very first time. Almost.
Riders of the Plague fucking rips. The guitar is heavy and delicious, as much for the über solid and thrashing rhythms as for the super tasty and tasteful soloing that is all too infrequent proof that constant showmanship isn’t really the way to go when making your way into the hearts of your listeners.
The drums could make Stephen Hawking headbang like a maniac. Like the rest of the instruments, the drums are presented with a sound that’s full, clear and heavy, yet doesn’t sound artificial. Rather, it all sounds like a killer band pulling off in the studio what they will bring live, night after night.
Riders of the Plague is almost the perfect length, too. Maybe a song too long. For this kind of thing, which is really more or less the same song over and over (but that song rocks), ten’s about the limit. That and you’ve heard this style far too many times by far too many bands. Damn them. Try to overlook that which unfortunately cannot be ignored and rock out to The Absence. (7.9/10)
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