Billy Talent Albums (4)
What The Critics Say
Adding swampy blues-rock and down-home muscle riffs to their punk-pop template, Billy Talent's third album, aptly titled Billy Talent III, owes as much to Zeppelin rock stomps as it does to latter-day Green Day. In the start of "Rusted from the Rain," vocalist Ben Kowalewicz sounds like a dead ringer for Billie Joe Armstrong in "Boulevard of Broken Dreams," but by the grungy, drop-D chorus of "Crush me like a flower, rusted in the rain/Strip me of my power, beat me with a chain" bombast kicks in and it's more like Jeff Buckley fronting Soundgarden. If it sounds like the Ontario quartet has replaced their Buzzcocks-influenced art-punk roots, it's because they have. It's a questionable move, but songs like "Tears into Wine" show that Billy Talent's venture into biting arena rock shows promise. While the songs are slicker and less snide, they're surely not obvious or easily calculated. The group's still too beefy and weird to fit the emo-pop label. It's common for punk groups to turn face and go this softer route, and while Billy Talent might be on this path, especially with Warped Tour gigs, for now it seems like they're intent on carving their own niche. The problem is that the music often becomes pulled in too many directions. When they try their hand at reggae-rock in the "Can't Stand Losing You"-reminiscent "Diamond in a Landmine" it sounds forced, and "The Dead Can't Testify" includes a confusing juxtaposition of minstrel hammerchord and metal grooves. Strangely though, when they stretch farthest away from their origins, as they do on the plodding power ballad "Sudden Movements," their sound takes a turn for the best. ~ Jason Lymangrover, All Music Guide
'Billy Talent II'
Release Date 6/26/2006
Tracks 13
Label Wea/Atlantic
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
With no desire to ease fans into the explosive terrain of II, Billy Talent immediately detonate the ominous "Devil in a Midnight Mass" with an electrified energy that most bands need cases of Red Bull (or actual electrocution) to pull off convincingly. Presided over by the furiously snotty vocal cords of Ben Kowalewicz -- who can yelp, sing, and scream with the best of them -- the subsequent "Red Flag" is in-your-face, raised-fist anthemic with a savage capital "A," while "Worker Bees" uses a militaristic backdrop in a song that could easily be a castoff from Sum 41's Chuck. Not even a passing whiff of pretension or scenester posturing is perceptible in the ranks of Billy Talent. One can assume their relentless quest for pure catharsis is a product of being fed up with the often hollow nature of passing music trends, from which the band successfully separates itself. They want to put the heart back in rock and, well, they mean it. Maxed-out energy levels are the first tipoff, but then "Where Is the Line?" explicitly spells it out ("Magazines from overseas won't teach you how to feel/They trade in their hearts for indie rock charts...") over curt riffing and assertive rhythms. These guys spell business, packing muscular guitars and impassioned shrieks to prove it to the watered-down punk revival crowd of 2006. Even when the band relatively slows things down for a stretch near the middle, every song pushes full steam ahead with precise, spanking-clean playing and multiple vocal attacks. "The Navy Song" steadily rolls forward alongside Aaron Solowoniuk's unwavering drum kit, and even standard breakup songs ("Perfect World") get a swift kick in the pants, while never losing the band's ever-present cynicism. And icing the already delicious cake further is the liner-note inclusion of engaging artwork matched up to each song courtesy of Henry Fong. There's just so much passion packed in here that Billy Talent easily blaze through almost 50 minutes -- which could be a marathon for some ADD-riddled listeners, but somehow isn't -- with compelling dexterity and power. ~ Corey Apar, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Billy Talent takes its curious handle from a character name in the 1996 mock rockumentary Hard Core Logo, which traced the continuing adventures of an aging Vancouver punk band. The reference is probably more resonant in the Talent's home base of Toronto; everywhere else, it's a little awkward. Fortunately, the quartet's eponymous Atlantic release struggles mightily to make music matter more than moniker or stylized genre revivalism. Over a muscular, relentless, and viciously catchy 40 minutes, the band checks the wiry, melodic punk of the Buzzcocks while working Fugazi's dueling vocalist dynamic and searingly precise guitar breaks into its own three-minute anthems. The Buzzcocks' influence is immediate and easy; indeed, Billy Talent conveniently opened a clutch of dates on the reunited veterans' 2003 tour. Likewise, Talent benefits from production that tweaks its hooks for maximum sonic pugilism. But while Benjamin Kowalewicz's yowl and screech do bear some resemblance to countryman and somewhat melodramatic Our Lady Peace mouth Raine Maida, his sloganeering lyrics are laced with cynicism, and right-hand man guitarist Ian D'Sa favors tense, angular guitar tones over the enormous compression of the mall-punk boy bands that proliferated at the turn of the century. "Try Honesty" and "This Is How It Goes" certainly have the shout-along choruses. But the latter's "Hold my breath until my heart explodes" is darker than any of Good Charlotte's toothless challenges to authority. There are no nods to hip-hop or power balladry here; "Living in the Shadows" and "Line & Sinker" are roiling, throttling post-hardcore screeds field-stripped to basics, but rebuilt with melody. "The Ex" might be the most straightforward two-and-a-half minutes of punk revivalism on Billy Talent. But even here, the band tears at conventional spurned boyfriend lyrics with vindictive gang vocal interplay, and rushes headlong into the explosive chorus with a nervous energy that's hard to fake. Certainly, Atlantic would like to see Billy Talent hit a chord with the kids -- the record's melodic accessibility bears that out -- but the group wisely favors agitation and tension over cherry-picking from current musical fashion. ~ Johnny Loftus, All Music Guide
