Goes Cube - Another Day Has Passed (2009) [The End] // Grade: B

Years ago, I knew this hardcore/metal drummer who organized his parts—and essentially concepted entire songs— based on the number of and distance between street signs or yellow dashes he counted on the highway during tour. This was seriously mathy stuff and the parts, as well as the songs they spawned, came off just as strange and intricate as you’d expect. Thing is, it never truly made sense. He was an incredible drummer, but the band? It kind of sucked. The concept was only cool when you knew about it, and as far as I know, not too many people did.

That little anecdote is my roundabout way of explaining that too often, hardcore-influenced metal bands (especially those courting some sort of pretentious indie cred) get overly obsessed with making things smarter, or more complicated, than they need to be. And that Goes Cube, despite a name that suggests sheer math-rock, have somehow managed to avoid any of that and still show off some crazy intricate melodies.  Another Day Has Passed may be heavy as fuck, but it’s also, like, really beautiful.  “Saab Sonnet”, for instance, starts with an ethereal guitar jangle that feels exactly like Yeah Yeah Yeah’s “Maps” in the way it twinkles and escalates. And “Restore”, though it explodes into a raucous sort of sludge, is intense in a slow, simmering way; not the calm before the storm, but all the destruction afterward.

But maybe the most intricate thing about Goes Cube is how seamlessly they weave their influences, without ever once flaunting the fact that they’re doing so. The most obvious comparison here is Torche, but there’s so much Refused and Fugazi and even the Minutemen charging through Another Day Has Passed. Or Helmet, Mastodon, The Minus Tide. And the vocals sometimes, very subtly and super briefly, channel a certain Ian Svenonius howl. Sure, it’s not as massively complicated as basing your songs on roadway construction, but Another Day Has Passed is so sludgy, shimmery and intense, it really does prove that less, at least conceptually, is always a whole lot more.

- Rue Sauvage