REVIEW: Imperial Triumphant - Goldstar

Awe.

It is the reason you got into metal in the first place, is it not? You marvelled at the crushing guitars, you wept at the sight of electricity transmuting into sound, and you gaped at the sheer speed of a double kick pattern pulverising a kit like a child immersing itself into a ball-pit for the first time. In all of its bombastic splendour, you felt the touch of real glory upon your brow. Awe. Where do metalheads get their awe? It depends. For some, it manifests in the form of soaring vocal melodies juxtaposed with brutal guitarwork. For others, it may be a simple riff that encapsulates a moment within their own life – the emotions one experiences perfectly distilled into sonic form.

But for another, more unique, breed of listener, it is technicality that inspires the most awe. They get their rocks off to a free-jazz saxophone solo being played offhand whilst the drummer is a step out of time and the guitars are exclusively playing dorian mode. Nuts about their notes-per-second statistics and time signatures so incomprehensible they might as well be an elaborate tax fraud scheme. We have been called many things; “enlightened,” “intelligent,” “devilishly handsome,”– but to others we are known by another name: “Snobs.” Without snobs, the legitimacy of music as an art medium suffers; how would Caravaggio paint if he just had three colours on his palette? They are there to point out that all songs in 4/4 are fundamentally the same even when nobody asked. When they come at you about your basic music library, they are not trying to harm you – no, they are trying to help you. And frankly, thank god for them, because without their glaring, condescending judgments, music as an art form would collapse into the hands of the unwashed masses. What would you do without them?

And yet, this arcane breed of snob is forever at war with itself. Like a house that is divided, they cannot stand what they deem as defects upon their pristine genre. Their downfall (aside from being annoying)? Subjectivity. Complexity is their mistress, yet when faced with it, they can’t even agree on what it should look like. Which brings us to Imperial Triumphant, who have provided succour in the form of Goldstar.

In the prickly landscape of avant-garde metal music, where people will honest to God accuse you of having "undeveloped ears" without a hint of irony, Imperial Triumphant can be divisive to say the least. A band that nobody can quite agree on, because what the hell even are they? They fashion themselves in Slipknot-esque stylings, careening out of the dark in bright, golden masks that look like they snuck out of one of Gatsby’s parties. Art-deco is the name, dada blackened death-jazz is the game - the soundtrack to a thousand damned flappers Charleston-ing their way into the pits of Hades. They are New Yorkers Zachary Ezrin, Steve Blanco, and Kenny Grohowski – a band of extremely talented musicians pushing their instruments to the limit. Their previous record, Spirit of Ecstasy, was a handbook in sonic excess. Featuring Kenny G (yes, that Kenny G) in all of his smooth-jazz glory. It will be hard to top such a mammoth collaboration, but Goldstar may prove itself yet. Themed after Fritz Lang’s 1927 German expressionist masterpiece Metropolis and featuring a bare-breasted Maschinenmensch on the cover, this record is yet another addition to rock’s long, weird record of venerating German expressionist cinema. But enough about the aesthetic - let’s talk about the music, if you still use earthly terms like ‘music’ to define whatever this is.

It all starts with ‘Eye of Mars,’ the great filter. Before you can even clock what’s happening, a thunder of riffs, blast beats, death growls (and trumpets) surround you. If you cannot handle what Imperial Triumphant is putting down here, now is your cue to leave. Abandon all hope ye who enter here. ‘Gomorrah Nouveaux’ then begins with a Moroccan Gnawa-jazz beat (this is Imperial Triumphant we’re talking about here), before stop-starting like a subway train driven by a drunk conductor. There are some wonderfully evil vocals on display here from Zachary Ezrin who growls like a New York cab driver slamming on the brakes as a pedestrian screams; “Hey! I’m walkin’ here!”

‘Lexington Delirium’ takes it down several notches and the Floyd Rose starts to shine. It is a song about skyscrapers a la Bowie’s ‘Thru’ These Architects Eyes', an ode to the skyline with all the archaic devotion of a Sumerian scribe looking proudly upon his local Ziggurat. The dissonance of the sound is an encapsulation of the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple. Tomas Haake of Meshuggah is on guest duties here, rumbling out a requiem to a tower block in the style of Catch 33. ‘Hotel Sphinx’ continues the sonic assault, with what sounds like cartoon slipping-on-a-banana-peel noises amid the maelstrom. Pace-wise, the tempo-rubato of this song seems once again to be controlled by the drunken train driver, yet the breakdown in this one still slams. Hard. The next song, ‘NEWYORKCITY,’ is a 40-second grind-core panic attack featuring Yoshiko Ohara of Bloody Panda screaming Yoko Ono-isms over a flurry of blast beats and palm muted notes. Anyone who has ever commuted into work in a big city will deeply resonate with this one.

After a short interlude advertising ‘Goldstar’ like an old cigarette brand (complete with a faux-Ink Spots introduction), ‘Rot Morderne’ strikes – and admittedly the dadaist madness is waning a little. It is stop-and-start metal mayhem just like ‘Hotel Sphinx’ was. But like a phoenix, ‘Pleasuredome’ invigorates the experience. This is one for the drummers, featuring Dave Lombardo of Slayer fame performing a Brazilian Maracatu-inspired solo and Tomas Haake back with some more spoken-word. With as much chaos as Richard Christy’s elegantly messy banging on The Sound Of Perseverance, where it sounds like he’s throwing pots and pans across a room but it still ends up being in perfect 6/8 time. Kenny Grohowski is truly the ‘drummer’s drummer', having also performed with the criminally underrated Secret Chiefs 3, they give a phenomenal performance throughout the album. It is pure percussive pandemonium from start to finish, like a final drum exam at Juilliard. Finally, the closing track, ‘Industry Of Misery'. Seven-and-a-half minutes of pure obliteration. The bass work of Steve Blanco penetrates through the cloudy dissonance like a shot from a gun, careening at its own pace whilst the other instruments continue their carnage. It plays out like a death march until, suddenly, it starts dying in real-time, degrading into what sounds like a low-battery novelty birthday card slowly gasping its last breath. And just like that - it’s over.

This was exhausting. Even with its moments of eerie calm, the sheer density of it all wearies the bones, and this is somehow still their most accessible album yet. While it is about as intense as a massage from a thousand angry wasps, by the time it’s over, you feel like you’ve attended quite the classy affair. The ghosts of Thelonius Monk and Ornette Coleman haunt this thing, their large shadows looming over every note. But where jazz was always about the swing, Goldstar is about the collapse, an opulent soundscape of skyscrapers crumbling in upon themselves and a Manhattan traffic jam at rush hour where every car horn is in a separate key. Looking down the Chrysler Building like the band do in their ‘Lexington Delirium’ video, you’d see frantic figures swarming across grids, each rushing to an enigmatic destination. The sheer, overwhelming futility and absurdity of it all. Awe. That is what Imperial Triumphant have set out to capture here, and they do a bloody good job of it too. However, they still remain metal marmite; love them or can’t stand em’ for many. They don’t care if you ‘get’ them. They don’t care if you like them. But if you’ve already got artists like John Zorn, Oranssi Pazuzu, or even John Coltrane in your roster, you’re probably ready to join the imperium. Goldstar is a gilded, dilapidated monument to excess, music to an extravagant capitalist ouroboros devouring itself. “Look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair!”

And if you don’t like it? Well, maybe your ears just aren’t developed enough.

Score: 7/10

Goldstar will be released on March 21st 2025 via Century Media records.

Words: Kiarash Golshani

Photos: Alex Krauss & Shannon Void