I've heard dozens of attempts to describe the sound of Hella, and so far, none of them have quite hit the mark. Whether it's "lo-fi hardcore", "retro math-rock", or "percussioncore", they're all technically correct, but they fail to really get at what Hella is about. The band really has to be heard to be understood, but briefly, it consists of two guys, one spearheading a brutal percussive attack, and the other guy plays blisteringly fast guitar licks over said percussion. Like I said, it has to be heard to be understood, and I make no secret of the fact that one of my goals in life is to make love to the music of this band.

"The Devil Isn't Red" is a thirty-five minute onslaught of this music, a feat which is both impressive and tiresome at the same time. Impressive, because I imagine that playing even a couple of minutes of this music would be a massive strain on the wrists, tiresome because the band's sonic palette is so limited that at around the halfway point of the album, you're absolutely sick and tired of what has started to sound like an annoying gimmick.

This limited range is the main problem with this album, and with all of Hella's music. If the sonic carnage was limited to a single track, then it would be a lot more effective, but then, it wouldn't be Hella. The problem is definitely not in the execution of the idea; I'd even go so far as to say that the execution is flawless. You only need to listen to the snap-funk beat that kicks off Brown Medal 2003, or Except No Subs, which sounds like a NES hooked up to a $50,000 stereo system to be convinced that Spencer Seim, and Zach Hill, the brains behind Hella, know exactly what they're doing. The problem is a problem with the idea itself, and I'm not exactly sure how it can be fixed.

In short, "The Devil Isn't Red" is a studio album by a band which has their best moments on the stage. Dedicated fans of Hella will probably lap this up, but for those of us who haven't yet had the good fortune to see this band live, it might just come off a little flat.