Kamelot : Poetry For The Poisoned
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Kamelot : Poetry For The Poisoned

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There’s really nothing to see here, move along people. Kamelot are an American power metal band who, of course, have been around for many a year, and have released many an album (nine, to be exact). So they must be doing something right, according to their fans at least.

There’s really nothing to see here, move along people. Kamelot are an American power metal band who, of course, have been around for many a year, and have released many an album (nine, to be exact). So they must be doing something right, according to their fans at least. But on their newie Poetry For The Poisoned, Kamelot are sounding kinda tame and wishy-washy. Think a watered down version of maybe someone like Symphony X, or Angra, but without the progressive elements.

There’s much to be said for such terms as ‘each to their own’, ‘it’s all subjective’ and ‘one person’s food is another one’s poison’ and so on. But to these ears, some of these power metal bands need to put a rocket up their arse, and Kamelot are a prime example. The vast majority of their tunes trudge along at about half pace, and simply never rise to any great heights. To put it quite bluntly, this album is quite boring, and had me nodding off about a third of the way in. The musicianship and production is just adequate, and the vocalist sometimes sounds like David Bowie on a bad day.

Some blinding fretwork and female vocals arrive a little before halfway into Poetry For The Poisoned shake things up to a certain extent, and there are a few moments here and there that have you pricking your ears up and taking notice; Necropolis has a nice fat grooving riff, for example, plus some nice subtle orchestration and more of that blistering lead work. Undoubtedly, it’s the album’s best cut. But all this ultimately fails to lift this above a plodding overall feel.

Sometimes the genre ‘power metal’ can be a misnomer. Some of it simply isn’t that powerful. If you’re a power metal fan and you’re reading this, don’t get mad, rather, get some Aussie stuff. Get your arse to one of our local independent record stores and grab the latest from Black Majesty, Lord or Eyefear. It’ll have a lot more oomph than this.