New Man, New Songs, Same Shit, Vol. 2 is the third album from Adam ‘Nergal’ Darski’s dark folk side project, Me And That Man. Unlike the relatively low-key debut, this new collection is positively packed with icons from across the heavy metal firmament, with guests including Devin Townsend, Alissa White-Gluz, Randy Blythe and many more. Whether, in all honesty, Nergal needs such a celebrity boost, given both the quality of, and the reception for, the debut is something of a moot point, but there’s no doubting the quality of the twelve tracks on offer, and it may be that the wide array of guests featured on the album will help to shed further light on the dark recesses of Americana travelled by Nergal.
The album opens with the dusty, cinematic blues of Black Hearse Cadillac (feat. Hank Von Hell and Anders Odden). Underpinned by a throbbing bass synth, and with wordless vocals leading the way, it’s a funereal opening that maintains a leaden pace, perfect for the Dylan-esque story-telling of the spoken-word lyrics, and it certainly draws you into the album’s dark atmosphere. Next up, the gritty Under The Spell (feat. Mary Gore) taps into a dirty blues, complete with surf influences, evoking an atmosphere that owes much to Tarantino, with all the promise of bloodshed that such a name suggests. Fast paced and with deftly layered vocals, it features some seriously gnarly lead work, and if you weren’t already convinced as to the quality of the record, any such doubts will be vanished by the time the track reaches its close. If the theme continues largely untampered by the guests, on All Hope has Gone (Feat. Blaze Bayley, Gary Holt and Jeff mantas Dunn), it is nevertheless worth mentioning that Blaze Bayley absolutely sings his arse off on the track, delivering a performance that reminds you just how good he can be. In contrast, Witches Don’t Fall In Love, which features a typically enigmatic appearance from the Sphinx-like Kristoffer Rygg (Ulver), cleaves closer to the singer’s day job, resulting in an acoustic-led piece that recalls a countrified take on the experimentation of Themes From William Blakes marriage Of Heaven And Hell. Heading back down the back alley of blues, the surprisingly heavy Losing My Blues (Feat. Olve Abbath Eikemo, Frank The Baptist and Chris Holmes) sees Me And That Man channelling Barry Adamson at grittiest, although it’s the slide-driven Coldest Day In Hell (Feat. Ralf Gyllenhammar and Douglas Blair) that really snares the listener, bringing the first half of the album to a thunderous close.
Possibly the closest track on the album to the Me And That Man debut, Year Of The Snake (Feat. David Vincent) taps into the same vein of inspiration as Nick Cave, arguably cleaving too close to its source material in the process. It’s not a bad song, but it lacks the mischievous sense of adventure found elsewhere, and it’s soon banished by the toe-tapping blues rock of Blues And Cocaine (Feat. Michael Graves). A cheeky, sing-along number with an irresistible beat, it feels like an obvious single choice, despite its provocative title. A darker, more atmospheric number follows in the form of Silver Halide Echoes (Feat. Randy Blythe). Opting for a Delta stomp augmented by eerie synths, it sees Randy employing the same, Pete Steele-esque tones with which he greeted the listener on the most recent LOG offering. The pace slows on the haunting Goodbye (Feat. Alissa White-Gluz and Devin Townsend), a track which employs a bassline reminiscent of James Horner’s work on the 48 Hours soundtrack. Full credit to Alissa for a surprisingly sultry performance, that perfectly fits the mood – her vocal carries the track as it builds to its climax. Similarly impressive is Angel Of Light (Feat. Myrkur) a track that sits somewhere between Gira’s Angels of Light project (in a fine example of nominative determinism) and Spiritualized gospel-tinged sadness. Having brought the lights down low, the album closes with the unexpectedly raucous outlaw rock of Got Your Tongue (Feat. Chris Georgiadis). A hard-rocking, hand-clapping blast, Got Your Tongue provides a blistering finale that will have you reaching for the play button all over again, and it certainly brings the album to an impressive end.
Since the early days of Behemoth, Nergal has made a point of doing exactly what he wants, exactly how he wants and this outing from Me And That Man is no exception. While the guests undoubtedly bring their own personality to proceedings, they are, nevertheless, dancing to Nergal’s tune and the resulting album benefits from additional star power without, in anyway, suffering from the compromise that such an approach might suggest. It’s a difficult trick to pull off, and yet Nergal achieves it with aplomb, arguably delivering the best Me And That Man outing in the process. There’s real depth to the tunes here and you can’t help but feel that the guests found themselves succumbing to the gritty charms of Nergal’s vision as, indeed, does the listener. Truly an exceptional album, Nergal has brought together an all-star cast, pushed them well outside their comfort zone and crafted a minor masterpiece. 9.5/10
