We Butter The Bread With Butter - Das Album (2021) Hi-Res

It’s been six years since the last time our bread was buttered with butter. And we did not think it tasted all that good, apparently. With such a large gap between records, especially in a genre like deathcore, I figured I ought to check out the previous installment before writing about the newest one. Turns out I like it quite a bit more than Z Man did. Big surprise, I know, but I’m a sucker for hooky electronic shit in my metal. Nonetheless, I agree with most of the criticism laid before Wieder Geil! all those years ago. Cool little moments abound, but riffs made up a precious few of them. If you are calling yourself metal of any kind, you better butter the bread with riffs. Does Das Album slice the cake? Obviously it doesn’t—slicing cake is a task for a different band entirely.

We Butter the Bread with Butter have gone full circle, entering 2021 with the same original lineup as when the duo first spawned in 2007, plus one adorable doggo. I’m not sure how that happened, but at least their secret formula remains intact. Electronic dance music and deathcore renew their vows on Das Album, drumming and bassing to and fro, trapping me beneath the weight of a stout breakdown or whipping me around a stupid catchy chorus. The end result is an album that I don’t hate at all. It’s a phat loadf of fun.

Take second song proper (instrumental openers… smh) “20 km/h,” which is infectious as hell and silly enough to put a big grin on my face. I’m sure it’ll make a bunch of you an-n-n-n-n-noyed as hell but it makes me happy, and the bizarre vocal/electronic/metal riff combo attack really sticks in my teeth. “N!CE” does the same thing, using syncopation to deliver a trappy and snappy left hook to my cranium. “Schreibwarenfachverkäufer” is another fun romp, with a blackened touch that works well with the high energy main riff. “Jump ‘n’ Run” and “Piks Mich” might be my favorite songs, though—bouncy, infectious and chipped just right to give them big cronch. Das Album riddles my ears with false bass drops, builds and freakouts that share the load between synthesized kerfuckery and guitar chuggery. It even ends with what I think might be the first ever false beatdown for the genre. For most it’ll be a love it or hate it situation, but I found myself digging it more often than not. Even the production marks a dramatic improvement over their last, with way more room afforded to the various layers of music on show.

There are missteps, however. “Sprich Sie Einfach An” sports a cool riff, and it would rule a dance floor in 2021, but I remain unconvinced that trapped mumble(ish) rapping was the best choice. Considering that full-on deathcore number “Meine Finger Sind Zu Klein” follows in its footsteps, the oddball switchup in tone and style right in the middle of a 41-minute record kills a lot of momentum. Furthermore, even though there are an insane amount of vocal hooks and electronic melodies to get stuck in your head, the age old problem remains: We Butter the Bread with Butter are weakest in the riff department. Das Album showcases some of their best riffs so far as I’ve sampled (“Piks Mich” has a massive collection, for instance), and yet many others fall below the standard I’ve become accustomed to since joining up with this blog. There’s so much going for this band, being one of the zanier acts in my listening schedule, but I want them to really push boundaries with their riffs, not in technicality but in consistent quality and memorability.

It’s difficult for me to make statements like “Das Album is the best bread ever buttered by We.” However, it might just be that based on how much enjoyment I’ve gotten from the record. I might not return to it very often once this review hits the front page, but I have to respect how much the band’s songwriting has improved since 2015. Nevertheless, this is metal we’re talking about, and it’s the metal that’s in need of the most character development on Das Album. I know We Butter the Bread with Butter can make it happen. Provided they heed my critique, I anxiously await their sixth thick-sliced slab of buttered toast. Don’t make me wait six years this time!