REVIEW: Dr. Acula – Dr. Acula [2022]
Artist: Dr. Acula
Album: Dr. Acula
There’s something about Dr. Acula that just stirs up a hunger for a good horror story. I’d thought a lot about starting this review by adapting a line or two from some kind of scary story—maybe something from Alvin Schwartz’ Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark? It seemed right but felt clunky, and ultimately felt as though I was doing a disservice to Dr. Acula as a whole. Why would it feel like a disservice? Because they don’t need me—or Alvin, for that matter—to tell stories for them. As the most senior of the party-grind (or party-core) acts still standing, and arguably among the most senior actively touring heavy acts in the country, Dr. Acula frankly don’t need me to lead in with a once upon a time…
Because if its scary stories you want, you really don’t need to look much further than the band’s masterful return to prominence that is their self-titled comeback record.
Dr. Acula is an astounding release. A far cry from the S.LO.B. days (but somehow, still distinctly a Dr. Acula record), the band’s 2022 full length record is a marvelously mature and loosely conceptual tale that borrows from elements of deathcore, metalcore, grindcore, mathcore and even a splash of doom and black metal to make something truly special. Bursting at the seams with bodacious breakdowns and riffs so phat they’re bordering on morbid obesity, Dr. Acula’s self-titled release is—despite it being the most mature record they’ve done—their most uproariously raunchy and fun release of theirs to date.
I remember when I first had the pleasure—well, honor, really—of listening to Dr. Acula’s forthcoming record. I didn’t really know what I expected; all I knew was S.L.O.B., Below Me! And Slander were still in high rotation on my phone, and really had been since high school, and I’d never really imagined I’d be hearing a new Dr. Acula record ever again. Ultimately, it didn’t even matter what I’d expected because there’s no way I could have ever fathomed what we’d get. Dr. Acula is a testament to the band’s brilliance in ways previously unforetold. Built around the story of a group of individuals essentially stuck in a looping hellscape, the band manage to tell a story through cunning lyrics and dynamic instrumentation flawlessly.
From the very onset of “Apotheosis,” the listener is thrust genitalia-first into sheer chaos. Using a pummeling kick drum and scathing lead to build into an explosive breakdown, the band start with all cylinders firing and never really take too much time to slow down. Singles “The Abominable Snowman of Pasadena” and “How to Kill a Monster” paint Dr. Acula brilliantly in their most mischievous light. Here, dance-friendly drums play back and forth with bouncy, energetic lead guitars, weaving hither and to across a bleak soundscape before dropping into ultra-catchy and very nostalgic breakdowns. Here, the band’s bass serves as a heavyweight firmament, keeping the more unpredictable and gyrous components of the band’s fretwork in check, giving them a smooth foundation to flow fluidly from riff to chug. Other songs—like the album’s dramatic, dense and dreary closer—see a whole new Acula, so to speak. If we were getting Acula, M.D. from the first half, the latter half is markedly more Acula, PhD. More calculating and precise with the manner in which they draw influence, songs like “The Barking Ghost” feel like a totally new band at parts, with a hefty dose of influence from different metallic subtypes (most notably, a little blackened doom?). Here, Dr. Acula slow it way down, offering the listener a slow, scalding build into an absolutely apocalyptic breakdown.
Where the band’s instrumentation and production have definitely matured, the single biggest difference to be found in Dr. Acula is the relative lack of tracks built around beer pong (and/or lovably corny movie samples). This is kind of a joke, because when all is said and done, the band bring precisely 0 party-heavy tracks to their new full length record, at least in the conventional sense. Lyrically, Dr. Acula focus much more on the mystical and the eerie, combined with a desperate, frazzled and strung-out sort of introspection. This rears its head best on “Welcome to Dead House,” where what the fuck have I got left?! Rings in right before a supremely dancy breakdown. It’s fair to say that Dr. Acula don’t necessarily wax poetic anywhere on their eponymous release, but it’s also not really fair to expect them to. Instead, they stay true to their horror-culture roots, delivered with an impressive vocal variety.
It’s been at least a decade—if not longer—since I would have seriously entered Dr. Acula in an album-of-the-year list. But in 2022, a year with the most densely packed complement of stellar records in some time, I’d venture to say that Dr. Acula’s self-titled release is among the top of them all. Feeling something like a lost entry in Every Time I Die’s catalogue at times—to something totally intangible and unique at others—Dr. Acula is an incredible experience. While its unlike anything the band’s prior material has ever released, it’s also far better (despite having fewer Duke Nukem or Anchorman samples). From grindcore to deathcore to black metal to metalcore, Dr. Acula are figurative globetrotters when it comes to their influence on their self-titled record, and like your favorite scary stories, it’s even better with the lights out.
10/10
For Fans Of: The Callous Daoboys, Every Time I Die, The Bled, P.S.You’reDead
By: Connor Welsh
