@Alex Mulrooney

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Since their inception in 2004, Architects have found themselves lumped in with the metalcore scene even as they frequently intimated the unexpected—and subsequently realised it with every new record. Despite this tendency towards boundary pushing, there has always been <i>just</i> enough going on sonically that stalwarts of the genre have accepted the British outfit: vocalist Sam Carter’s coarse howl; the punitive damage of lock-step downtuned chug and Dan Searle’s insistent kick-drum; a routinely relentless pace with death metal-style dalliances and emotive leads. But these metalcore misfits have long had something more to say—a revelation solidified by their third album, 2009’s <i>Hollow Crown</i>, where it became stunningly evident from opener “Early Grave” that Carter could <i>really</i> sing. Not bad for a former longtime drummer, and even better for Architects—a band that have since consistently and, at times, profoundly pushed the envelope. After signing, sealing and delivering too many progressive metalcore precedents to count, they’d go on to bumrush the mailbox with unashamed post-hardcore (“Day In Day Out”), crack their original abrasiveness back open (“Alpha Omega”) and retrieve and redeliver the message with a super-modern flair of focused hooks and reel-you-in riffs (“tear gas”). Architects are, simply, the most dizzying dancers of a line they themselves drew in metalcore’s unyielding sands. Fittingly, the band’s prime thematic movers are also two-sided: What ails the world (tellingly, every member is vegan) and unspeakable personal tragedy. The latter came to a crushing head with the passing of founding guitarist Tom Searle from cancer in 2016—a loss so crippling, its catharsis necessitated an entire record. 2018’s <i>Holy Hell</i> —and its title track in particular—now represent a near-mythic charting of the wounded courage that defines Architects. From the stricken fury of “Naysayer” to the anthemic abandon of “Animals”, the quintet’s astounding longevity is rooted in their only real unifying redux: A fearless devotion to meaningful mayhem.