The idea of progression is sadly not one analogous with Louisiana hard rock bands. Maybe it’s got something to do with the oppressive nature of the way things work down here—the heat, the unemployment, the fact that most bands seem to sink into a black void after achieving regional fame. Acid Bath were never afraid to temporarily abandon their crushing doom/death in favor of melodies that were, for lack of a better word, pretty. Chameleon-like singer  Dax Riggs could go from an effective death metal scream to a more Morrison-esque melodic honeymoon croon and guitarist Mike Sanchez, after pulling out the full arsenal of metal guitar whines and tones, could then turn around and play classically-inspired acoustic pieces infused with longing and solitary beauty. This dichotomous nature is what made them a more interesting “heavy” band than 99% of the entire world metal scene and won them legions of fans. Why Acid Bath were not HUGE (as in radio play, etc.), I could never understand. Several songs on each of their two LPs could easily have been “modern rock” hits, and they certainly had the charisma thing down.

With the death of bassist Audie Pitre, the group that was all about the tension between soft/hard, beauty/ugliness and pleasure/pain then splintered into two distinct groups, with guitarist Sammy Duet forming the discordant, black metal Goatwhore and Riggs and Sanchez forming the more symphonic Agents of Oblivion. On first listen to the new Agents album, one is impressed that Riggs has again mastered a different vocal style—one a bit reminiscent of early Bowie. Luckily for him (and us), Riggs has an extraordinary, rich voice, full of nuances and whispered secrets, and although at first listen one can pick up that particular influence, it doesn’t sound affected or forced. By the album’s end it has become clear that the reference was merely that, a reference, as the multitracked vocals are merely a starting point on a disc which is a melange of different melodic rock styles—psychedelic, glam, goth, and straight ahead rock and roll.

Agents of Oblivion is really surprising in that it doesn’t sound like anything that’s out today—and as such, blows most of what’s heard on “modern/ alternative” radio out of the water. Like all great rock and roll, you can catch glimpses of the past and the future, the familiar and the unfamiliar. You can pick up echoes of early glam greats like Mott the Hoople and Bowie, and then turn around around and envision Sid Barrett-era Pink Floyd or even Geoff Tate (Queensryche) at his most somber. Songs like “Phantom Green”, “Big Black Backwards” (featuring samples from creepy pseudo-documentary Gummo) and a re-tooled “Dead Girl” (from Acid Bath’s Paegan Terrorism Tactics) are mini-epics, in which the band takes you through a range of emotions and textures—but doesn’t forget to rock out in the process (always a problem with a lot of “progressive” bands). The lyrically skilled Riggs sets his sight on all things seamy and sorid in human existence. Always intelligent, his adroit gift for making ambiguously murky, hallucinogenic imagery seem clear has gotten even greater and more focused. Songs like “Paroled in 54” and the funereal “Anthem (For This Haunted City)” provide a glimpse of a festering (not festive) New Orleans which may be miles away from the party atmosphere often thrust upon it, but one a lot closer to the truth. “God don’t love you anymore down in New Orleans” Riggs sings in “Anthem…” “I know where the Devil dwells…” A Carnival for the downtrodden and disenfranchised, if you will. And to put the final nails in the coffin of their death metal past, they have the balls to throw in an acoustic-driven, kickass cover of glam-pixie guru Marc Bolan’s “Cosmic Dancer” which has a melancholy, weeping willow quality about it.

With their Southern gothic flavor and quietly demanding anthems, Agents of Oblivion are quickly becoming one of the “bands to watch”—not just in Louisiana, but in alternative rock circles everywhere. With the release of Agents of Oblivion, this time there should be no denying them their place in the pantheon of modern rock—a “concept band” for the millennium. Catch ’em now, while they’re still playing small clubs, and watch their story unfold.

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