When it comes to music, especially in the metal genre, the quest for originality is a double-edged sword. On one hand, it’s what makes certain bands stand out; on the other, it’s a nearly impossible standard to maintain in a landscape saturated with decades of influence. This brings me to Fangdriller: Scars Beneath Memory’s Wrist by Saidan, an album that, while not initially on my radar, has become a fascinating study in how a band can evolve without sacrificing its identity. Personally, I think what makes this particularly fascinating is how Saidan navigates the tension between innovation and cohesion, delivering an album that feels both familiar and refreshingly distinct.
One thing that immediately stands out is the album’s emotional depth. Saidan’s earlier work, Visual Kill, was a frenzied, almost chaotic experience, but Fangdriller leans into a more morose and wistful tone. This shift isn’t just a stylistic choice—it’s a narrative one. The album acts as a prequel, exploring themes of loneliness and vulnerability, which, in my opinion, adds a layer of psychological complexity to the music. What many people don’t realize is that this conceptual groundwork isn’t just window dressing; it shapes the very essence of the album, making it feel more intentional and immersive.
Musically, Fangdriller is a masterclass in restraint. While Visual Kill was all about flamboyance and experimentation, this album focuses on songwriting and mood. Tracks like ‘Kara No Bara’ and ‘Womb of Hatred’ build tension with a precision that’s almost surgical, and the payoff is always worth the wait. What this really suggests is that Saidan understands the power of pacing—a lesson many bands in the genre could stand to learn. The quasi-title track, ‘Stained Glass Sin – Fang Driller,’ is a prime example. Its slow, ramping maelstrom culminates in a transcendent solo that feels less like a technical showcase and more like an emotional release.
From my perspective, the production on Fangdriller is where the album truly shines—and stumbles. Splatterpvnk’s raw, fuzz-laden sound is undeniably charming, but the thin bottom end is a minor flaw. However, I’d argue that this isn’t a dealbreaker. If you take a step back and think about it, the production style aligns perfectly with the album’s themes of vulnerability and isolation. It’s raw, it’s unpolished, and it’s honest—much like the emotions it seeks to convey.
What makes this album particularly interesting is how it balances accessibility with depth. On the surface, it’s a solid black metal record with catchy melodies and frantic rhythms. But beneath that lies a meticulously crafted narrative and emotional arc. This raises a deeper question: Can an album be both immediately engaging and rewarding upon repeated listens? In Saidan’s case, the answer is a resounding yes. After nearly two dozen spins, I’m still discovering new layers, new nuances, and new reasons to appreciate it.
A detail that I find especially interesting is how Fangdriller ties back to Visual Kill. The final track, ‘Mortuary,’ echoes the somber closer of its predecessor, ‘Suffer,’ creating a sense of continuity that feels deliberate rather than forced. This isn’t just a sequel—it’s a dialogue between two albums, each enhancing the other in ways that are subtle yet profound.
In a genre often criticized for its lack of innovation, Saidan’s Fangdriller is a breath of fresh air. It doesn’t reinvent the wheel, but it doesn’t need to. What it does instead is refine, refocus, and re-engage. Personally, I think this album is a testament to the idea that originality isn’t about being completely new—it’s about being authentically you. And in a world where so much music feels manufactured, that’s a rarity worth celebrating.
If you haven’t listened to Fangdriller yet, I encourage you to give it a chance. It’s not just an album; it’s an experience. And if you’re skeptical, I’d urge you to approach it with an open mind. There’s a beautifully constructed world waiting to share its dark secrets—if you’re brave enough to let it.
