Does anyone remember a band called Iceman Thesis? They were a name who appeared on the Download Festival lineup in 2014, despite having no history, no music released, and not even any background information about them. But because their whole deal was sending cryptic packages to industry figures teasing some kind of movement, they became the talking point among British rock media for a while. (Most discussion was around which members of existing bands were involved because ‘Iceman Thesis’ is an anagram of ‘This Is Menace’, if you want to know how tightly those straws were being clutched.) So, come their scheduled slot at Download, two bands both called Iceman Thesis appear simultaneously on two different stages, play one song each, and leave. There was an album released afterwards that you can still get on Bandcamp, but as elucidated in a statement to follow, the whole thing was more of a social experiment to highlight the stranglehold that hype can have on the industry, often placed on a far greater, more visible pedestal than talent and the results thereof.
So because in the intervening 11 years, we’ve apparently learned fucking nothing, here’s PRESIDENT to do the exact same thing. They, too, were given a Download slot upon conception with nothing to their name but cryptic online teasers, though did actually start releasing singles in the run-up. Under no circumstances should ‘a band has some music’ be taken as an endorsement, mind, and in the case of PRESIDENT, it probably did them more harm than good. In a roundabout way, it proved that this is some industry product manufacturing its own hype rather than operating in any grassroots way, as you may be able to glean from the stupidly recognisable tone of their ‘anonymous’ singer’s voice. The masked gimmick is still ongoing, but let’s just say that it’ll be well before the year 3000 that this chap is identified.
More to the point, though, between the staunch reliance on anonymity and an electronically-embellished alt-metal sound that doesn’t so much wear its influences on its sleeve as skin them and tailor an entire jacket, PRESIDENT is a go at another Sleep Token. Because of course it is. There is no way in hell that rock’s bigwigs are letting a cash cow that fat stay as a singular entity; a goddamn Sleep Token cover band is blowing up for that very reason! And it’s not even the bending over backwards to force PRESIDENT into that position that’s most disheartening, but the fact that it’s working. King Of Terrors is PRESIDENT’s debut release, and they’ve already seen insane traction and picked up opportunities that most up-and-comers would commit unspeakable acts for. Forget an industry plant; this is like an industry topiary garden.
It’s also worth taking a minute to comment on the dress of PRESIDENT, a practice that might otherwise seem gauche if it didn’t feel such a critically malignant part of this whole enterprise. The whole thing is that each member is anonymous with the singer having the clearest visual identity, dressed in a suit, white gloves, and an ill-fitting old man mask. So, from the jump, we can assess that that’s just…rubbish, right? At least the likes of Ghost and, yes, Sleep Token carry some mystique in their aesthetic, which PRESIDENT’s unashamed flouting of screams its lack of effort.
But, if you’ll permit us to dust off the tinfoil hat, there might be more intended with all of this, or at least intended at the surface. With the unimpressive costuming especially, this could be peddled as ‘satirical’ with just the right amount of deniability, where there’s enough to interpret a seeded critique of how bands with masks are all the rage and anyone will buy in (and therefore run with the implications that this is more than a blatant cash-grab). Okay, that’s fair enough, but consider this—if the whole point of PRESIDENT is to critique that narrative, where is the criticism? There’s no sending-up of ‘people will buy into anyone with a mask’ when President are just doing that and benefiting from it. Playing both sides within an infrastructure like this can’t afford to be that outgoing, after all.
Plus, if that were truly the aim (which it isn’t and to think so would be giving this whole thing way too much credit), you’d almost need PRESIDENT to make purposely bad music. And with as entrenched to its eyeballs in the industry as this already is, no one’s going to bankroll that. It’s an unsustainable risk that, already, PRESIDENT is not willing to even entertain. So you funnel in time, effort and resources to make sure everything is in tip-top condition for the rollout. You use ADA as your label for distribution as a gesture towards independent prestige, knowing full well the average consumer won’t know it’s an arm of Warner Music. You hype and tease it and make it feel like a special new discovery, just waiting to be unearthed. And by the end of it, you get your own little Sleep Token, pre-packaged and ready to succeed, a 3D printing of alternative music’s most lucrative money-spinner that’ll do numbers on birthright alone. Those last 11 years really have been spent well, haven’t they?
And yet, after all of that, is it any surprise at all that the least noteworthy thing about PRESIDENT is the music? Had this come from anyone not groomed since day dot for these specific results, you’d be inclined to ignore this completely; it just isn’t much of anything. At best, it’s a fine-enough lap around alt-metal that’s specifically in vogue right now, inched up by the occasional bit of Fightstar-esque loftiness—hmm, wonder why that is?—and choruses that generally stick the landing. Once again, that’s at best. You’re expected to lose your mind over this, by the way.
The Sleep Token riffing of it all is obvious, that goes without saying, but to give PRESIDENT some credit, they’re nowhere near as liable to get lost in themselves and drop the thread entirely. A six-track EP naturally creates a tighter timeframe than an hourlong slog, not hurt by PRESIDENT being generally narrower in their musical breadth. On one hand, maybe that’s a mark against them, as they strike to further commercialise and gentrify what’s already seen as the point of no return for pop-metal. On the other, songs like Fearless and Dionysus are actually capable of catching some air, rather than being constantly at the mercy of their own crippling, ponderous length. There’s definitely more than an inkling that PRESIDENT would absolutely do that if they had the means—RAGE is the prime candidate to be doubled in size if the opportunity arose—but for now, this is manageable.
At the same time, it’s also just…really dull. Nothing about King Of Terrors stokes any sort of excitement or anticipation that PRESIDENT could have some unique or cool waiting in the wings. In that sense, it’s the perfect fit for the committee-built cottage industry around it, right down to the bits that should light that fire. There’s no denying that the ragged, animalistic screams are solid, but they’re almost academic in their placement to illicit the correct response for the moment, rather than feeling like a genuine burst of release. It’s why the chorus of Fearless works, as the singer is allowed to shake loose his reins and bellow in a way that wears its imperfections and loose folds with true intent. Unfortunately, that’s all that King Of Terrors has to offer in that department. Even on that very song, plus the preceding In The Name Of The Father, the caked-on vocal effects would almost suggest humanity in these performances to be of rather low priority. They don’t sound strange or uncanny; they just the leave the singing as mangled and disjointed (or, dare I say, busted).
It’s the sort of choice that paints PRESIDENT as the most Sleep Token-adjacent that they can be, where even if specific decisions don’t map one-to-one, the overall logic behind them is the same, and therefore, so is the clunk with which they drop. RAGE is the most directly accurate example, formed mostly from a collage of disembodied vocal chirps and a stiff, stodgy beat before the awkward gearshift of low-end clunks that feel like a totally different song is trying to break through. The direction is obvious and already played-out, yet positioned as PRESIDENT really testing the limits of this sound. You get that impression every time the shell of production thickens, or a flavourless backbeat lurches into view like the zombified remains of low-grade 2010s metalcore. Worse still is Conclave, which can’t even get as heavy as it wants to thanks to flat, truncated guitars that often stop short of the pianos in terms of volume.
But here’s the main point, overall—none of this is great, but it’s not exceptional in its lack of greatness. Again, if this were a normal band releasing this EP under normal circumstances, you might not even give them the time of day, such is the lack of noteworthiness on display. Compare that to Sleep Token and the ravenous dissections and analyses of every tiny facet that follow as standard, and PRESIDENT just seem small, quaint and unimportant. It’s why the ‘review’ portion of this is as brief as it is, and not any kind of Presidential roast (so to speak). The machine behind PRESIDENT wants them to be big, but more importantly, it wants to convince you that they’re big. And for what’s on offer—alt-metal that would be dime-a-dozen if its precise intentions weren’t rubbed in your face at every turn—it fails to get there spectacularly.
What frustrates the most is that this won’t be the end of PRESIDENT. Not by a long shot. The miles-long runway has been cleared for them already, and will continue to be for as long as the hype-building pays off. This sort of thing won’t die an easy death, not while the horsepower thrusting it forward seemingly has no upper limit. More to the point, it shatters any remaining notion of music being a meritocracy that’s left, because this is not the best of what’s out there right now. It’s middling and inoffensive, which no one outside of top-end bean-counters wants their music to actually be. Maybe the blow could’ve been softened if it were more. If, after effectively having their seat at the top table bought for them, PRESIDENT could have their transcendent moment, it’d feel a lot less like getting pissed on and being told it’s rain.
At least the name is appropriate—who but PRESIDENT would be more suited to promise everything to the hoodwinked masses, and then pay that trust off with so, so very little?
For fans of: being force-fed slop from a bucket like a good little piggy, Sleep Token
‘King Of Terrors’ by PRESIDENT is released on 26th September on ADA.
Words by Luke Nuttall
Seems weirdly emotional for a review. Not the greatest music but this seems biased