Here's a really good review of the new album:
Hard to believe the band once known "those guys from Sanctuary" now have five full-length albums under their belts, and have been around for nearly a decade, evolving into one of the most forward-thinking American metal acts around -- scarcely "power metal" despite their melodic vocals. Hell, you'd be more accurate calling them "Swedish death except with a guy who can sing" instead -- particularly on Enemies of Reality, a record that occasionally collapses under the weight of its own brooding anger.
Following the pummeling, crystalline production of 2000's Dead Heart In a Dead World, the mix here is, frankly, a letdown. It's muffled, noisy, and clatters along at a lower volume than the other CDs in the changer -- never a good sign. Guitarist Jeff Loomis's tone is murky and muddy as well, and he's writing intense, busy, grinding riffs that scarcely leave room for Warrel Dane's vocals. Drummer Van Williams, not to be outdone, is all over the place, and between his maniacal fills and the relentless guitar, things actually get a bit exhausting in a couple of places! Dane's vocals have a manic, hysterical edge to them, a desperate madman's cry that fits the music, but again, is almost too much at times.
Not every song is intent solely on beating the listener to death Tomorrow Turned Into Yesterday and Who Decides are epic, emotional slow songs that soar, giving Dane a chance to actually belt it out a bit, though they bookmark the most chaotic tunes on the album, I Voyager and Create the Infinite. Noumenon is a weird, claustrophobic, creepy little troll of a song, seeming more like an intro to Seed Awakening than a self-contained track (although it's four-and-a-half minutes long) it feels like one of those between-song interludes like Waiting For 22 from Queensryche's Operation: Mindcrime.
And then with that bit of respite out of the way, Seed Awakening closes out the record with the subtlety of a baseball bat to the kneecaps. It all comes together when the chorus kicks in (although those little quiet interludes throw it off), and this prickly, unlovable Nevermore of 2003 kinda makes sense, finally. It's opaque and distant like Dreaming Neon Black was, with a ferocious brutality that takes some getting used to but is well worth the effort.
Of course, it'd be easy to look at the 40-minute running time and blustery production and think contractual obligation (this is their final record for Century Media, and the band has made no secret of their desire to go elsewhere) but Enemies of Reality is far from a throwaway record. It's an odd left turn down a dark, trash-strewn alley, but the songs are still solid and everyone plays their asses off. It just may end up, when all is said and done, as the gloomy dark horse of the catalog, a record that gets consumed by its own intensity and anger. Definitely recommended, but be willing to give it multiple listens and let it grow on you.