That’s a rhetorical question, obviously.  Plenty of people liked Aiden’s 2007 effort, which was a significant departure from previous releases – most notably their breakthrough album “Nightmare Anatomy.” This departure is exactly what made “Conviction” a bone of contention among fans and critics.  For every one voice that lauded the new direction, there were three bemoaning the loss of the dark themes and heavy guitar riffs that made songs like “Die Romantic” and “The Last Sunrise” perennial live favorites.

I was excited from the moment I’d heard the band start talking up “Conviction,” and delighted after the first few listens.  An ardent New Wave fan, I loved the idea of one of my favorite bands emulating New Order as it emerged from the ashes of the much darker Joy Division.  The band seemed equally excited and enthusiastic about this direction, and they played it with gusto.

Somewhere in the intervening years, however, the enthusiasm wore off.  Whether Aiden were never really that enthusiastic about “Conviction,” or the immature fan rantings finally wore them down, it seemed toward they end that the band almost became apologetic about the album.  “We’re sorry for stepping outside the box!  Please forgive us!  We won’t try that pushing creative boundaries thing ever again, we swear!”

After promising a record that would have all the lyrical maturity of “Conviction” with the sound of “Nightmare Anatomy,” the guys duly got their black on, cleared their throats for their best primal screams, and tore out a record (“Knives”) that feels more like the precursor to “Our Gangs Dark Oath” than the next step in the evolution of Aiden as musicians.  While there are still hints of Aiden’s catchy rhythms and Angel Ibarra’s melodic guitar, I found myself spending more time staring at my speakers in disbelief than enjoying a trip down memory lane.  The lyrics have devolved to ranting against religion, love, and virtually everything else that borders on shockingly immature at times, while the album’s themes in general scream of trying too hard to recapture the dark, gritty glee of “Nightmare Anatomy.”

Perhaps that is because frontman William Francis isn’t feeling particularly gleeful right now.  He wears his lyrical heart on his sleeve, and he makes it no secret that his albums come directly from his present mental state.  The great part about such raw honesty is that when you can relate to those emotions, the album resounds despite whatever other deficiencies may exist.  Of course, if you can’t relate you feel completely alienated from the album and from an artist you thought you “knew.”

This could be why “Conviction” worked for me.  Not only was it musically appealing, but the themes of contentment, hope, and love resounded with me.  Even “Nightmare Anatomy,” which was full of dark themes and imagery, constantly returned to the idea of hope.  (“This nightmare / won’t last long …”)

“Knives” feels hopeless.  The anger and despair seething through the record make it a chore for me to listen to, and I dread seeing the songs in concert.  I listen to my favorite bands’ music for pleasure, not to be assaulted, and it’s hard not to take it personally.  So, color me disappointed by “Knives,” but I’m not giving up on Aiden yet.

I guess all we “Conviction” lovers can do is wait for a better mood to strike.

I recently traveled to Joplin, Missouri to see  one of my perennial favorite bands, Aiden. The venue was unfamiliar, but the moment we entered The Foundry and were not carded, we knew immediately this was going to be an… interesting… night.  Aiden, known for dark themes, in-your-face lyrics and controversial subject matter, and resplendent with inverted crosses and “f+ck religion” attitude, was playing a Christian club.

Wil Francis and Angel Ibarra of Aiden get intimate with the crowd in Joplin.

The venue, coupled with the city and the weeknight scheduling, made for an embarassingly small crowd.  The opening acts–Civet, God or Julie, and a local opener–were largely forgettable.  What followed was not.

The prologue to the band’s entry, complete with voice-over from “The Devil’s Advocate,” made the situation that much more awkward, especially when frontman Wil Francis burst onstage to bring the set to life and was met with muffled yet enthusiastic cheers from the single row lining the stage.  Everyone else who had come were hanging out in the back of the cavernous venue near the juice bar (no alcoholic beverages–or swearing, for that matter–allowed here!).  Through the opening song, the disparity was obvious: there simply weren’t enough bodies in front to match the energy coming from the stage.

The band were clearly uncomfortable, and the show was in quick need of salvation (no, not that kind).

So Wil invited the entire audience onto the stage with the band.

Hot Topic-clad teens quickly abandoned their mothers and fell over themselves to scamper onstage, and everyone jockeyed for position in the ragtag semicircle that surrounded the band like kids gawking at a schoolyard fight.  Not too far from the truth, as more than one person had to duck Nick Wiggins’ bass, and Wil was hardly gentle with his moshing.

With everyone literally in the band’s face, their aggression finally came through, and the sweaty, packed, rough, high-energy vibe that is typical of an Aiden show was suddenly there.  One never knows what to expect from Aiden–especially their frontman–and they did not disappoint.  Instrumental acrobatics, obscene gestures, and even a spitwad or two kept the audience slightly off-balance, which is just the way the now-four-piece band likes it.

The disapproving looks from the juice bar became inconsequential as Aiden forgot self-censorship and tore through their set, including their excellent cover of the Misfits’ “Die, Die My Darling.”  The Foundry certainly had never seen the likes of Aiden within its walls before (and probably learned its lesson for future reference).  The small crowd left exhausted, satisfied, and more than a little sore–a feeling more befitting a packed underground punk venue than a cavernous Christian club.

The sound onstage was naturally not what it would be from the audience’s usual perspective, but with so much physically happening it wasn’t as noticeable.  It seems the band is still adjusting to the loss of their second guitarist, and with Wil taking on rhythm guitar duties, the richness of the band’s sound is diminished, as is Wil’s usual in-your-face connection with the audience.  Again, though, the unique situation made that less of an issue, as no member of the onstage audience was more than a few feet from the band.

After the show, I was told that the band is writing for their next album, which will be more of the “old Aiden” aggressive sound, but with the band’s more mature lyrical themes.  Writing as a four-piece will also certainly give the band a leaner sound.  The guys in Aiden are evolving at a blistering pace, and their prolific music output reflects that.

Aiden haven’t lost the scrappy nonconformist attitude that got them started, but it has been tempered by the experience and wisdom gained from a pressure cooker that spawned four albums in as many years–with non-stop touring in between.  That night in Joplin, they took a situation that was wrong for them and their audience in every way and turned it into a memorable experience for all concerned.

Click the jump for a mini-gallery of the very intimate Aiden performance.

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