You have to appreciate the temperature of the room to understand the pass that Tetrarch were awarded in 2021. Back then, nu-metal was, first and foremost, an add-on for metalcore. To have a band willing to swerve back into its purer form was far from common, but that’s what Tetrarch tried to facilitate on Unstable. Even if it wasn’t all that good, even back then, it felt somewhat deserving of admiration. If nothing else, it had the basis of novelty on its side.
Looking back on it now, however, that pass would be revoked with dire swiftness. In the intervening years, nu-metal has been mostly codified and rebuilt as a skin for alt-pop chancers. Under its fifth or sixth mainstream reappraisal in about a decade, not only has it become overexposed, but painfully stale. Even if Tetrarch were fractionally ahead of the curve in essence, what was wrought in their wake has only made them seem less and less worthwhile. It’s the age-old tale of a nu-metal crash—at its height, its 15 minutes are milked to the last nanosecond; as soon as the pendulum swings, it becomes the most useless, disposable thing imaginable. So when Tetrarch are ignoring all better judgement with The Ugly Side Of Me and sticking stalwart to where they were four years ago, what hope do they actually have?
This isn’t a very good album, then, but it’s the fact that it’s so obvious in its inadequacies that stands out the most. Tetrarch aren’t looking to redefine themselves, or anything about themselves, or even pay some cursory fealty to the idea of growth. This is just the mould they’ve settled in, it appears, and that doesn’t work for them anymore. For starters, the majority of songs here are completely indistinguishable from one another. The usual trappings of modern nu-metal are plentiful—generally slow and low-slung, compounded by a heavier low end and the feeling that radio-rock bucks were a not-too-insignificant motivator. To its credit, the production isn’t too bad for what it’s aiming for, at least in the space of impenetrably shelled, marketably heavy fare that could, at the very least, spark a push-pit or two.
That’s the general limit that Tetrarch feel comfortably inhabiting, to the chagrin of anyone who might not have had Unstable on permanent rotation but maybe carried an ill-formed memory of it being better than this. The truth is that Tetrarch are better; they just choose not to indulge in it, for some reason. For as renowned a guitarist as Diamond Rowe is—the first female signature artist for Jackson Guitars, let’s not forget—she doesn’t get much of a chance to show her abilities off. Even when she does, with solos on songs like Live Not Fantasize and Cold (which, yeah, are the general high points of the album), they aren’t integrated with a whole lot of grace or smoothness. It’s like the rest of Tetrarch are afraid of how royally they’d be shown up, and decide to placate their greatest asset by far by simply throwing her a bone.
Because it’s not like the rest of them even come close to matching up. This is one of those situations where anyone who isn’t a ‘named’ member could be rotated out without a damn bit of difference. It’s not like there’s anything noteworthy done with the bass or drums that requires these guys to be ones doing it. Same with Josh Fore on vocals, too, though that one slips into active negativity with how grating he becomes in a hurry. Clearly the aim is to emulate the countercultural sneer of nu-metal generations past—think an approximation of Jonathan Davis for the modern era—but he’s too nasal to convey much more than a peevish whine. If you do want a nu-metal song that sounds like it’s sung by SpongeBob, The Only Thing I’ve Got has you covered, though it’s doubtful that’s a demand that anyone in the history of humankind has ever had.
It ultimately becomes even more of an endurance test when Tetrarch’s writing is the worst possible accompaniment for it. It’s the habitual output of nu-metal—of twisted psyches and dark, dangerous impulses—gentrified further beyond how ruthlessly passé that whole notion has become into the posturing of what sounds even more like a whining child putting on a front. Honestly, this exact framework has been dusted off and erected more times than anyone cares to remember, and Tetrach’s ‘spin’ on it only makes it seem less worthwhile. Perhaps the intent was to convey additional venom in the words, or for Fore to heighten his own portrayal of instability. All it really does is leave the product as obviously one-note and shallow as you’d reasonably expect from an album called The Ugly Side Of Me. Credit where it’s due, though—there’s not one use of “demons” or “voices in my head” across the entire thing, which might be worthy of a couple of extra points on its own.
…well, okay, not really. This is still a profoundly limited album, no matter which you slice it, and it’s the sort of thing that Tetrarch could seriously afford to move on from. It’s not 2021 anymore, and if everyone weren’t afflicted by mid-pandemic brain-fog, it likely would’ve struggled to fly then, either. Sure, it was a bit of its own thing, but not so much that Tetrarch should be empowered to do more of it. Because that’s what The Ugly Side Of Me is, really—not a conscious stab at advancement, but a second helping. Why anyone would actively want something like is a mystery (especially when nu-metal has proven its capabilities for more interesting things in places), but here you are, if you’re that way inclined. Just be aware you don’t have to pick this one, okay?
For fans of: Sicksense, DED, Gemini Syndrome
‘The Ugly Side Of Me’ by Tetrarch is released on 9th May on Napalm Records.
Words by Luke Nuttall
