Written By Kevin McSweeney
Made Flesh – available from August 21st via Season of Mist – is the sophomore full-length effort from Untitled With Drums, following on from their 2020 debut Hollow, and the Symbols EP, which was released in December last year.
It’s fair to say, then, that the Frenchmen are not the most prolific in terms of output. Does the quality of the music make up for the lack of quantity, though? In a word: oui! I enjoyed this album thoroughly, though it was not entirely what I had anticipated it to be.
I was expecting post-hardcore, something striking a similar balance between muscle and melody to that of Quicksand’s masterful 1993 album Slip.
Instead, what we have is something much more akin to the MTV-friendly alternative rock and metal acts of the last decade of the 20th Century.
But that’s no bad thing, and it has resulted in an album full of surprisingly accessible, hook-laden songs that lack neither grit nor gusto because of it. Let us go through it, track-by-track, to see if I can articulate why surprise did not turn to disappointment on this occasion.
Above My Head brings the album abruptly to life with a big, bustling riff of which Stephen Carpenter would be rightly proud.
It settles down into a melodic verse, but it’s a jarring, chromatic melody that evokes no small amount of darkness. Martin Le Borgne belts out the chorus with all the passion of a man on the verge of being overwhelmed with emotion.
This makes sense in the context of the lyrics, which read like stark, direct confessional poetry, a forthright expression of pain, rather than anything nuanced. Then again, I wonder how much nuance I’d be able to muster if I were writing in a second language.
The dissonant lead guitar augments this expression of pain nicely. It’s an opener that reminds me why I fall in love with bands like The Deftones, for whom UWD have opened.
We get more of this emotional directness in the lyrics of Shame, a song that opens with a riff that wouldn’t have been out of place on Linkin Park’s Hybrid Theory album.
The emotion is carried on a tide of chugging palm mutes and incessant cymbal crashes. The chorus is a potent one, being melodic and catchy but dark, in a way that reminds me of Cold, a vastly underrated band from the nü-metal/alt rock scene of the late 1990s and early 2000s.
There is a somewhat eerie middle eight, or nine, as the case may be, with toy box guitar notes over heavily distorted bass before an emphatic return to the chorus and a coda that verges on something from Garbage’s debut album. I don’t know if this song was earmarked to be a single. It should have been.
Matter opens with a strummed bass that reminds me of the handiwork of Peter Hook. In fact, there’s a tinge of English gothic rock to the verse, making it sound like something from The Cure’s Disintegration album, whereas the chorus is pure Betty-era Helmet.
It’s a heady combination that works much better than the suggestion on paper might imply.
The heartfelt vocals over the quiet tribal rhythm in the middle eight works well, proving Rémy D. Perrin to be a drummer with an understanding of the importance of dynamics – though I fear I might have to apologise to him in advance, as I will probably refer to him at some point as Reggie. The reason for this will be obvious to those who are eligible for a Saga holiday.
Gray starts off slow and sombre, in keeping with its title. The minimalist lead guitar once again reminds me of Cold.
Getting fully into the song, we find them wandering more into alt rock territory than before.
The anguished vocals over big, shuddering waves of guitar reminds me somewhat of the Irish band Kerbdog, who were accused of being grunge copycats in their early years – accusations that were never accurate or fair.
The lyrics, once again, are stark and confessional. It would be an uncomfortable listen, were the music not so compelling. The whole thing culminates in a coda that would really remind me of Kerbdog, were it not for the Fear Factory synths.
Space begins in a fairly mellow manner, with its jangly, dreamy little riff over a gentle, ride cymbal-led rhythm.
I imagined for a second that the delicate vocal harmonies were going to enquire about my fondness for sand dunes and salty air.
Naturally, it doesn’t last, and when the distortion is applied and the drums are hit hard, it feels instead as if Matthew Caws is about to start fulminating over the futility of teenage popularity.
It’s angry but catchy. We then have eight bars of atonal abrasiveness that might be the heaviest bit of the album, before the melody is restored and then faded out.
The lyrics are a little more complex on this one, seemingly coming from the perspective of someone who dwells in space, longing for a lost Earth.
Change For You is a dark little tale from the perspective of one who is revelling in sinful deeds, apparently capable of changing but being extremely reluctant to do so. The opening images are amusingly grisly:
Don’t tell Santa
I killed all his elves
Don’t tell mama
I’m her only child left
The deft cymbal work and humming of guitars provides an ominous opening, which is further enhanced by a menacing bass line over a syncopated beat.
The chorus is harsh but anthemic, creating a similar effect overall to Filter’s Hey Man, Nice Shot, through quiet menace juxtaposed with splenetic bursts of fury.
Oblivious announces itself with a fuzzy stoner-style riff that opens up into fast-paced grungy alternative metal, similar to Kerbdog’s Dummy Crusher.
I know I’m referencing a relatively obscure Gen X band here, but I cannot tell you how much the vocals remind me of those of Cormac Battle.
We have an atmospheric middle section with its harmonics and guitar solo from Lucas Delay that is rudimentary and all the more effective for it. We also have some thought-provoking lyrics, including this fascinating verse:
I’m a useless software, launched into space
I’m the universe disappointing itself
I’m a cranked up machine waiting to die
and Incapable of suicide
I don’t know whether the individual depicted in the words reminds me more of HAL or Marvin the Paranoid Android, but either way, I love it.
Parasitic is fairly opaque lyrically. It could be about a toxic lover you can’t bring yourself to forsake.
It would make sense in that context, but also in others. Its opening riff is a compelling blend of Nada Surf’s Popular, Devin Townsend’s Numbered and Nirvana’s Heart-Shaped Box.
Its verse is sombre and restrained in contrast, characterised by mournful arpeggios.
Its ending is a combination of those arpeggios and a big, gutsy riff, augmented by those quintessentially grungy vocal harmonies that were perfected by Alice in Chains and used to great effect by many others thereafter
Dreamy acoustic guitars, restrained vocals and a gentle beat bring Been So High into life in a manner that is reminiscent of the more palatable elements of 1990s alternative rock, like Collective Soul or Blind Melon, or maybe even PJ Harvey.
This is not lost even when an element of Nirvana’s abrasiveness creeps in for the chorus. The slight hint of 1960s-style organ from Nicholas Zalachas nicely augments the mellow edge that contradicts the emotional malaise expressed in the lyrics.
It’s a track that I imagine might have been on heavy rotation on MTV back in the day,
And that brings us to the final track. Cry kicks off with a vaguely unnerving riff over space-age synths, but it settles into a subdued verse with an arpeggiated riff that once again brings Nada Surf, or maybe even Weezer, to mind.
This is followed by a harsher verse that is tailor made for the roars of Richard Patrick. The dulcet vocal harmonies over dissonant guitars makes for a captivating juxtaposition.
It’s a fine way to bring to an end a thoroughly enjoyable album that boasts enough in terms of variety and of light and shade to keep many a listener engaged throughout its near 39-minute runtime.
(That’s a long time for a modern audience. They’d never have coped with 1970s prog, and neither would I!) I urge them to leave aside any semblance of that quintessentially French sense of “sang froid” nonchalance and not leave it so long before album number three is with us.
Metal Lair awards Made Flesh 4 out of 5 devil horns
Tracklist:
1. Above My Head
2. Shame
3. Matter
4. Gray
5. Space
6. Change for You
7. Oblivious
8. Parasitic
9. Been So High
10. Cry
Line-up:
Martin Le Borgne — Bass, Vocals
Lucas Delay — Guitar
Nicolas Zalachas — Keyboards
Rémy D. Perrin — Drums
Untitled With Drums Online
About The Author
Kevin McSweeney is Metal Lair’s resident scribe of the underground, eternally rummaging through the global metal scene for riffs worth your time.
As the guiding hand behind Seven Deadly Songs every Friday, he has an uncanny knack for finding the track you didn’t know you needed, usually before finishing his pint.
Equal parts loyal, kind, and quietly razor-witted, Kevin brings deep knowledge, impeccable taste, and a steady, reliable presence to Metal Lair.
Read More From This Author:
Sakoya – World Gone Crazy EP Review
The Larches – Nihilistic Majesties EP Review
Album Review: Exodus Unknown by Imperium
Remembering Lou Koller: The Voice of Sick Of It All (1967 to 2026)
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