A Perfect Circle
– Mer de Noms
You don’t name your debut Sea of Names and expect to just blend in. Mer de Noms is the sound of a band arriving fully formed, heavy-lidded, and ready to hypnotize. Tool’s Maynard James Keenan steps into a different kind of spotlight here—not screaming from a mountaintop but whispering spells at your bedside. Meanwhile, Billy Howerdel’s guitar work bleeds drama, equal parts rage and regret. It’s not just a side project—it’s a cathedral built from broken mirrors and tuned drop-D.
Best of…
This album doesn’t rush. It coils and uncoils, elegant and venomous. Every note feels chosen like a weapon. There’s a classical sense of arrangement beneath the hard rock surface, but it’s wearing combat boots. Strings sneak in. Pianos lurk in corners. The whole thing sounds like it could’ve been recorded in a sunken ballroom. Even when it hits hard, there’s a strange grace to it—as if pain was something to be delivered with choreography.
Where Tool might spiral into cosmic freakouts, Mer de Noms keeps its boots in the dirt. The emotions are raw and grounded: longing, betrayal, obsession, and that cold sort of sadness that turns to anger if you stare too long. It’s theatrical without being overwrought, heavy without numbing, and spiritual without needing to prove it. This is where alt-metal grew up, lit some candles, and started writing poetry in its own blood.
Choice Tracks
Judith
An absolute sledgehammer. If the rest of the album leans into elegance, “Judith” kicks the damn doors in. Keenan spits venom over Howerdel’s snarling riffs, and the fury is personal—furious at blind faith, religion, and loss. It’s an exorcism set to a headbang-worthy groove.
3 Libras
A haunting piece that trades distortion for vulnerability. Violin and acoustic guitar circle around Keenan’s wounded vocals, and the result is heartbreak without melodrama. The quiet moments here punch harder than some bands’ loudest screams.
The Hollow
The opener doesn’t waste time. It marches in with polyrhythmic swagger, letting you know this band isn’t interested in fitting molds. The push and pull of the verses teases out tension, but the chorus lets it all crash down. A perfect tone-setter.
Orestes
Named after a Greek tragedy, and it plays like one. Sparse, haunting, and simmering with guilt. The refrain—“Gotta cut away, clear away, snip away”—isn’t just lyrical; it sounds like someone unraveling in real time. A slow, surgical breakdown of a soul.
Magdalena
Dark and seductive. This track stalks more than it strides. It pulses with a dangerous kind of lust, wrapped in industrial textures and lurching rhythms. It’s about obsession, maybe control, maybe both. Either way, you’ll want to hear it again.
Mer de Noms isn’t just a good debut—it’s a spell. An atmosphere. A slow-burning fever dream for those who like their rock with a little more elegance and a lot more bite. It aches, it roars, and it whispers things you’ll be thinking about long after it ends.