A Floor
Below – Monuments (Album Review)
Having had
the pleasure of interviewing A Floor Below and later reviewing their
monumental double LP The Other Side of Zero: I & II, we approached
their new album Monuments with both excitement and curiosity. The duo
have always been fearless in their exploration of sound and emotion, and with Monuments,
they take yet another bold step forward. This record is not just a continuation
— it’s a transformation, where industrial heaviness, human vulnerability, and
existential reflection intertwine in a sonic landscape as haunting as it is
cathartic.
The opening
track, “Embers to Ash,” immediately sets the tone. It begins with a low,
mechanical hum that grows into a storm of distortion and tension. The guitars
roar with metallic precision, while the vocals shift between controlled fury
and mournful despair. It feels like an awakening in a ruined world — the first
flicker of life after devastation.
“Life
Ordinary” slows the
pace but deepens the atmosphere. The song breathes with melancholy, driven by a
hypnotic rhythm and ethereal guitar lines that hover like ghosts in the mix.
The contrast between restraint and eruption gives the track its emotional
weight — it’s introspection under pressure, beauty balanced on the edge of
collapse.
With “Calcify
Me,” A Floor Below deliver one of the record’s heaviest statements. The
bass grinds deep, the drums hit with tectonic force, and the vocals drip with
raw pain. Lyrically, it’s about self-preservation — the need to harden oneself
to survive emotional erosion. Yet beneath the crushing riffs lies melody, a
fragile reminder that even in the hardest stone, there’s still something
living.
“Cog in the Wheel” charges forward with relentless energy, merging thrash aggression and industrial precision. Its galloping rhythm and sharp riffing evoke a sense of rebellion against conformity. The song’s mechanical pulse mirrors the monotony of routine, but its chaos feels like liberation — the sound of breaking free.
“Landmarks” turns inward, offering one of the
most atmospheric moments on the album. The guitars expand into cinematic
textures, the vocals sound distant and resigned, and the track unfolds like a
reflection on what remains after everything collapses. It’s hauntingly
beautiful — a requiem for lost time.
The
slow-burning “Stargazer” follows, bringing a sense of cold serenity. The
song’s layers build patiently, with basslines that pulse like dying stars and
guitars that shimmer against a vast, dark sky. It’s meditative yet crushing, a
moment where the band’s sonic vision feels almost cosmic.
“Deceiver” drags us back into the fire — fast,
furious, and full of venom. Its riffs slice like blades, the drumming
relentless. This is the catharsis moment, a controlled explosion that purges
all lingering restraint.
The closing
trilogy — “Before the Fall,” “The Fall,” and “After the Fall” — serves
as the emotional resolution of the journey. “Before the Fall” shimmers with
fragile hope, “The Fall” crushes that hope under massive riffs, and “After the
Fall” closes the album in haunting calm, a moment of fragile acceptance.
With Monuments, A Floor Below reaffirm why they are one of the most compelling acts in modern heavy music. It’s a work of emotional gravity and sonic depth — a continuation of the brutal honesty first unveiled on The Other Side of Zero: I & II, and a towering monument to human resilience.
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