The twiddly, thrashier experiments would sit well together but feel out of place in bed with the album’s fleeting, yet more brilliant, moments. If you could divvy up Servant Of The Mind’s 13 tracks into two separate playlists, you’d have a far stronger set of songs on each side. Elsewhere, The Sacred Stones switches to the wild-west prog we’ve come to expect from IRON MAIDEN, while the aforementioned closer pits thrash metal, prog-rock, and their own rockabilly together in a cage match of madness. For the most part they fall short of the mark the likes of Say No More and Becoming sound like VOLBEAT tried to make their own Hardwired-era METALLICA by listening to AVENGED SEVENFOLD’s Hail To The King. There are attempts across Servant Of The Mind to amp up their signature sound. But should a band eight albums in and on the cusp of bursting through the mainstream bubble be playing it so safe? In fact, VOLBEAT’s fever for riotous rockabilly and feel-good riff-and-roll is to sad bangers what ice cream is to sadness. Playing it safe for a pandemic album isn’t a bad thing. As you work your way from opener Temple Of Ekur’s melodic metal waltz to seven-minute closer Lasse’s Birgitta’s take on latter-day METALLICA‘s diluted thrash-cum-prog, you’ll find yourself using your mecca dauber more times than you can count. Spending time with Servant Of The Mind is as close to playing bingo with Michael Poulsen, Jon Larsen, Rob Caggiano and Kaspar Boye Larsen as you’ll get.
Their eighth album Servant Of The Mind, like a hearty meal from dear old mum, is the first sign of the rockabilly pioneers running out of steam and relying on their rulebook – and others. The older you get, the more this taste becomes a sepia-toned memory of better days. It’s warm and welcoming you soak up the familiar taste of homeliness you’ve come to expect.
Listening to VOLBEAT is like tucking into a home-cooked meal your mother’s made.
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