Once upon a time there was a band called Botch. Now, Botch were amazing by any standards – trend-defying in their employment of dissonance and irregular time signatures into a tired genre, sculpting something revolutionary that had never graced the ears of listeners before that point. Just around the time the members of said band decided to wander off and toy with indie-rock, post-hardcore and country instead, a few bands such as Norma Jean, The Chariot and Scarlet came along and thought that it would be a great idea to borrow copious amounts of ideas from their favorite mathcore merchants. Of course, those bands, while good in their own right, lacked that unique sense of songwriting and boldness that put Botch head and shoulders above their contemporaries in the first place.

Now, in 2008, a band named Spitfire have just released their third album. The band features members of Norma Jean and Scarlet and – you guessed it – they sound remarkably like Botch. Of course, there are several attempts to shake off associations with their obvious main influence. There’s a psychedelic Floyd-esque flourish here, an atmospheric midsection à la Isis there – but it’s the musical equivalent of donning a plastic mustache and some comedy glasses and saying “Ha! With this cunning disguise, they will never recognize me!” Those elements mostly serve as mild distractions to the fact that Spitfire still have some way to go in establishing a sound of their own.

There’s still plenty of satisfying moments. “Chemo Therapist” harks back to Pelican when they were still a destructive force of nature, while “The Animal Kingdom of Heaven’s Gate” is a suitably short and evil slice of hardcore. The record maintains a dark atmosphere throughout, bringing things to a peak with the one-two punch provided by the ominous sludge stylings of “Meat Maker” followed by the off-kilter riff assault of “In Vitro,” a song that ends the album on a high point with an impressive crescendo accompanied by some interesting Mare-style singing. There are atmospheric interludes throughout the album, providing some variety and a welcome break from the Botch-isms that often provide the most tiresome moments.

It needs to be stressed that Spitfire aren’t bad. In fact, they’ve made a rather enjoyable album. It’s just that the feeling of “Haven’t I heard this before?” that one finds oneself feeling when listening to Cult Fiction is strong enough to detract from the enjoyment of the album. One suspects that, with time, Spitfire will move fully out of the overwhelming shadow of their influences. Then, and only then, they will be a damn fine band.

- Ned Chambers