Precedents everywhere suggest that there are two things great bands will inevitably face — a) The need for an experimental album to test out different waters, and b) An unfounded, usually immature and harsh backlash from old fans regarding a). Two bands I’ve had the pleasure of being a fan of have fallen into this predicament, with Incubus’ A Crow Left of the Murder and My Chemical Romance’s Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge coming to mind respectively.

It wouldn’t be half as bad as it sounds if not for the sentiments that the old fans seem to spew over and over again ad infinitum; how the old album(s) were better by a mile, how the band’s “selling out”, how the old sound suited them better, how they’re going “mainstream”.

You’ve heard them once and you’ve heard them all, those inane, meaningless, and overused phrases. In this very context, however, I present ACIDMAN’s 5th studio album: green chord. Which begs the question — Does ACIDMAN qualify for the above? I would have to say yes, and no.

green chord (introduction) kicks off the album, and as an introduction it’s great — the entire album encapsulated in a song. Because this is how things are going to roll for the next 52 minutes; a sound so restrained and bursting at the seams that, while staying faithful to rock in all aspects, isn’t half as loud as you’d have thought. A refreshingly calculated sound that dips its toes into pools of post- and prog- rock playfully while still wearing the clothes of alt-rock.

So what criticism, if any, does green chord bring to the table this time? There isn’t much to go on about. The general complaint I had regarding the whole album was how it seemed to take on a similar feel, a certain sound not very much unlike the ubiquitous sound of Spangle Call Lilli Line; laid-back, mellow, and rather different.

Returning, unlike its predecessor, isn’t a segue from the introduction, but I got over this small disappointment quickly, thanks to the distinctly upbeat, happy feel of the song. While Nobuo cranks the volume up a notch or two, this isn’t the type of song that’ll have you reaching for your volume control; no more wanton screaming here.

Here the album breaks for a sojourn into classic ACIDMAN territory. Did I mention that Masatoshi’s bass line was back? Well, it is, and so is the rest of the formulaic approach ACIDMAN’s known for on occasion. Ride the Wave has all everything an old fan’s come to know and love: A loud-soft-loud dynamic? Check. Chords that sound a tad recycled? Check. A climatic, almost anthem-like chorus with Nobuo’s soaring vocals? Check.

Slow Rain (スロウレイン）, on the other hand, seems to be as much of a compromise between Nobuo’s beautiful thematic approach post-and world and Masatoshi’s overwhelming bass as it is something not many bands with twice ACIDMAN’s number manage to pull off — a brilliant spark of excellence that only seamless teamwork and cooperation can accomplish.

I tend to lump the next two tracks, Real Distance and So Far, together a lot. To no surprise, for while Real Distance’s the type of song that wouldn’t go out of place in a bar, or your school’s prom, So Far, on the other hand, veers into a radio-friendly, acoustic sound. Nevertheless, they present a welcome breather from the frenetic pace of the previous tracks.

Rightfully so too, for Prism no Yoru (プリズムの夜, or The Prism-like Night) creeps up on you when you least expect it, and then surprises you with a gap or two, before delving into a chorus that’s truly deserving of the reviewer’s cliche, “hauntingly beautiful”. With a bit of orchestral support , Nobuo sings his heart out, his soulful, lush voice culminating in what can only be described as epic.

And then we have the instrumentals. AM2:00 (.inst) meanders around for a minute, yet despite its mediocre, puzzling nature, all’s forgiven as Dawn Chorus (.inst) begins to work its magic shortly after. Weighing in under two and a half minutes, the song starts off slow, then builds into a dazzling show of melody pyrotechnics as the chords begin to work their magic.

Sen Nen Hokou (千年歩行, or A Thousand Years of Walking) and Unmei no Mei (運命の銘, or Inscription of Fate), on the other hand, were disappointing, weak songs. It seemed like the songwriting process at this point involved a few more recycled chords, a lack of direction, and a final product better suited for a B-side than an album.

But then we have Calm to soothe things down. Bad puns notwithstanding, this is a song that will grow on you with each listen. Right up there in the league of songs like SAI (Kouhen) and Ginga no Machi, Calm reminds you what it’s like to be an ACIDMAN fan all over again, with Nobuo crooning in that way only he can do so well.

Alas, all good things have to come to an end, and the last song, titled Toward, sums this up pretty well. Aside from having the honour of being the longest song to grace their repertoire, it seems to be the band’s most adventurous venture to date — a heady brew of crashing prog-rock and atmospheric post-rock. And just when you think the song’s ending it starts up again. And again. And again. Is Toward a hint of where ACIDMAN’s headed? If it is, I’m sold on the idea.