Musical Mondays - Black Labyrinth (2018) by Jonathan Davis

It’s always difficult to know where to start with these reviews, often because I want to give a little personal preamble to why I chose what I chose for that day, but tonight, there is no reason other than sheer love of the music itself. I have already reviewed music by this man – this legend, this icon – but that was while working in his band; flying solo, there is a marked change in his style which is so experimental, yet so perfect for him, that I fall in love with it a little more each time I listen. You may be able to guess who I am referring to (the photo is probably a give away, no?), yet I think I’ve played the adoring fan so often now there’s a fair few to choose from, but in my eyes there can only ever be one who deserves this much praise and that is Jonathan Davis.

At the start of 2018, Korn fans were teased with the release of Davis’ first single, ‘What It Is’ and, while I can’t remember my specific reaction upon hearing it, I knew I had to get my hands on the physical music when it was released in May and so I pre-ordered it. And when it arrived I feel I must have listened to those 13 tracks over and over for days – much as I hope you might after reading this review (you can check out the album on YouTube using the link at the bottom).

The opening track ‘Underneath My Skin’ bears the hallmarks of some of the material Korn had produced at the time, particularly from their 2013 album The Paradigm Shift. There is a recognisably sinister undertone, a heavy bassline, and an affinity for electronic sounds which defined Korn during the mid-2010s, but there is also an unexpected vibrance, a warmth even, that underlies this song and shows how Davis has diverged from his band. When you get to the second track ‘Final Days’, however, you realise just how much of a divergence this solo work is.

There are Indian tabla and deep tribal drumbeats, the haunting reedy notes of Armenian duduk, and many other eerie world music undertones which show this album to be a whole new breed of monster. Davis’ biting vocals are there just to remind you who is at the helm, and yet the new sound still suits him, but it is a garment quickly shed when the sudden intro of ‘Everyone’ kicks in. This is a track in freefall; it’s fast, it’s scornful, it strikes like thunder, there is barely room to breathe as verse surrenders to chorus and back again, and the pace doesn’t let up much for ‘Happiness’ either.

This one could easily be mistaken for a stripped back Korn song with its signature swagger, raw growling breakdown and eerie layered vocals, a fact which has been to Davis’ detriment as reviews often slate his attachment to the ‘heavy comfort blanket’ of Korn’s style, as NME put it, most tracks ‘sounding like echoes of older, better songs he wrote for his main band’ (Spectrum Culture, 2018). But here I beg to differ because, if we continue on to ‘Your God’ – another track which owes its flavour to its predecessor – there is something to be said for how Davis’ ‘old’ caustic vocals and Korn’s signature harsh guitars freely give way to something brighter and richer for the chorus. This is especially evident in ‘Walk on By’ which opens with a recognisably chunky guitar riff and drumbeats that fall away in favour of unique glassy synths and almost airy vocals. The breakdown here is one of my favourites on the album, full of distortion, synths, and soaring guitars.

And then just like that, the attachment to Korn seems to fade as the second half of the album is undoubtedly unique. ‘The Secret’ is a sinister slow burn of a track – something you don’t get from the band as much – which launches into one of many epic choruses composed of smooth yet gritty, soaring vocals and guitars. ‘Basic Needs’ is perhaps my second favourite track: soft, slow and subtly eerie, Davis’ voice an almost uncharacteristic gravelly purr which launches into an epic yet comforting chorus as he cries ‘don’t you know that you’re all my basic needs’. The breakdown is by far the most beautiful, laced with the same haunting instrumentation from ‘Final Days’ which slowly merges with more traditional guitars and drums and even the bittersweet chords of a violin. And yet this rich tapestry isn’t enough to top my chart as that honour goes to ‘Medicate’, a gently percussive, atmospherically electronic track, pierced with an eerie note that gives me such chills, and only makes me that much more heartbroken to hear how Davis is ‘medicating every day to make it go away’.

Fortunately, the tone steps back up after this gentle interlude for ‘Please Tell Me’. At first as quietly percussive and atmospheric as the previous two songs, with stronger vocals, this is another slow burn like ‘The Secret’, building to an impressive breakdown for the final minute, full of bright synths, rich guitars and brassy drumbeats. ‘What You Believe’ is a track full of sinister swagger, creepy crunchy electronics, and hollow percussive bursts all played by Davis himself which feels as close to a return to Korn as the latter half of the album can get, before giving over to the haunting drawn out tones of ‘Gender’. This lament to Davis’ struggles with gender identity as a teen wearing make-up is highlighted by the presence of a sitar but otherwise isn’t overcomplicated with instrumentation, much like the final grand track that is ‘What It Is’.

It’s the only track to feature a piano and acoustic guitar (so far as I am aware) but they set the tone beautifully against Davis’ switch between clean and grittier vocals. The chorus, however, is as dramatic yet simple as it needs to be and delivers its message clearly that life ‘it is what it is’, very relevant in our current climate when we need to acknowledge that reality can’t be changed. And then there’s the subtle power of the breakdown: layered, gentle, simmering to a screaming, reverberating boil before launching seamlessly back into the chorus.

I recognise that there are times when this could easily be the ‘lost Korn tapes’, the offshoots of Davis’ imagination from the 10 years prior to Black Labyrinth’s release, left to moulder on a shelf and grow some exotic fungus that faintly obscures its origins. But when you consider Korn’s career spanned 14 years at this point, and their controversial jaunt into dubstep with The Path of Totality was only 7 years prior to this, the experimental nuances Davis has injected into this album are commendable at the very least, downright gorgeous at their very best, and I would argue that any attachments to Korn’s aesthetic are merely a force of habit. They are no comfort blanket, but a recognition of success, and a link to a band – and a style – that Davis should rightly be passionate about.

FULL ALBUM: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLH22-xSMERQprC4zgKJLVNfgnzGT5jywW