Originality is good. We can pretty much all agree on that. However, before I get into this review I'd like to point out that adding a trumpet player to a Thrash Metal band, while it might be original and unique, will not make their music any better or worse just because of said trumpet. This argument is leveled at Folk Metal all the time, particularly at the crappier bands in the sub-genre such as Blackguard, who basically tack on “folky” keyboards to poor Gothenburg/Metalcore songs. The point being that if you can't write a good song, no matter how original or unique it is, it will not be good no matter how many string instruments are listed in your liner notes.

Blood Cult's newest album We Are the Cult of the Plains is unique, I'll give you that. My Forest Home starts off the album with a rather standard hypnotic Black Metal tune which strangely segues into a classic Heavy Metal solo. As the song comes to a close, you shake your head, wondering at exactly what you just heard. Then, shit really hits the fan. From here on out, the album basically makes a mockery out of grim-faced corpse-painted tr00sters everywhere. Devil's Sabbath is an unholy fusion of Ozzy Osbourne-esque Heavy Metal and Black Metal rasps. Illinoisan Altar is a frightening concoction of bouncy and bizarre Finntroll beats and a psychedelic surf-rock guitar, which then becomes a messy, almost jazz-like guitar solo. When the band isn't playing swaying black'n'roll a la Vreid, they're off doing almost comically long guitar solos or a folksy country western inspired tangent. It quite literally boggles my mind that this band had the gall to do something so ridiculous. I mean, Finntroll is quite an odd band, but at least they have a somewhat consistent theme.

Just when you think this sounds like a Heavy Metal Hippy dream of infinitely cross-breeding genres and sub-genres, I have to bring you back to my thesis. For all the cool, weird, or jaw-dropping things you'll hear on We Are the Cult of the Plains, I must say that the songs aren't all that good. It is ironic that music with so many disparate elements is repetitive to the extreme. I found it incredibly difficult even on my first listen to sit through this album: the longer songs especially. There's only so much two riff numbers with endless wailing guitar solos I can take, and by the half hour mark the shock of the band's ridiculous sound wears off and the cold water of their lazy songwriting hits you full in the face.

For some with more patience for repetition than I, this might sound like a dream come true and I will step out of your way so you can get to feasting on We Are the Cult of the Plains. But to those like me who just want a well-structured, paced, and written album, you might want to be wary about spending an hour sitting through this just to see if you like it. Blood Cult's originality is admirable, and it saves their album from a much more negative review, but I'm afraid their uniqueness can only take me so far.