“Just look at that cover! I didn’t quite care what it ended up being when I saw that brazenly bright, composite-faced figure with its many mouths open in… anguish? Excitement? Both? Of course, I knew it had to foreshadow noise to some degree—something so frighteningly stitched could only be the result of frequencies scraping the boundary between pique and pleasure.” Horse show.
“Treedeon is a trio based in Berlin, having released two full-lengths since their inception in 2013. Consisting of former Ulme vocalist Arne Heesch, ex-Jingo de Lunch vocalist Yvonne Ducksworth, and drummer Andy Schünemann, Treedeon is a disciple of the NOLA sludge scene, with a filthy and caustic breed that recalls Eyehategod’s ten-ton blues and a density that conjures Thou.” If a tree falls in sludge, does it make an abrasive noise?
“Läjä Äijälä and Albert Witchfinder are both veterans to the Finnish music scene, the former best known for his time with punk band Terveet Kädet, while the latter is renowned as vocalist/bassist of Reverend Bizarre – although their collaboration has nothing to do with either. Like 2021 debut Centuries of Youth, Ordeal and Triumph offers three tracks and an hour of a polarizing blend of power electronics, industrial, analog noise, dark ambient, and spoken word.” Enter the Ordeal.
“It has taken some time for me to warm up to Big|Brave’s brand of noise/drone/doom. I didn’t love 2017’s Ardor, but it did pique my interest. Minimalist formalism in music doesn’t offend me the same way it does others, but their single-chord experiments didn’t resonate at the time. Still, the pairing of Robin Wattie’s waif-ish vocals with heavy drone was something new, so I kept an eye out for them. I warmed up to the stark elegance on follow-up A Gaze Among Them, but it wasn’t until Leaving None But Small Birds, their collaboration with The Body, that the appeal became revelatory.” Bigly braveness.
“I picked up Terror Winds for shock – I’ll admit that fully. When we last met T.O.M.B. readily dealt my very first 1.0 roundhouse kick. 2020’s Thin the Veil was, by all accounts, a disgrace. Offering a revolving door of guest musicians without a thread of consistency while flaunting painfully directionless songwriting in the name of kvlt kred, it consisted of forty-five minutes of noisy industrial black metal that felt about forty-three minutes too long. Straddling the fence between a bargain bin Psyclon Nine “beats ‘n shred” approach and the Tetragrammacide ascetic aesthetic with the grace of a toddler, it was something else. I just didn’t expect to see T.O.M.B. back ’round these parts so soon.” T.O.M.B. soon?
“No, this album has nothing to do with our favorite sponge friend. Yes, this album has everything to do with FOUR angry Canadians now that KEN mode has promoted Kathryn Kerr, a one-woman wrecking ball of saxophone, synth, and piano prowess, previously guest-credited on 2018’s Loved. Did you think that KEN mode would go full saxcore after that experimental sludgeball? Well, I bet your 2022 bingo card is all kinds of fucked up at this point, so let’s make this one easy: KEN mode—or more accurately, primary bleeding heart Jesse Matthewson—hated the past couple years and it shows.” No dream house for you!
“I was first introduced to Italian noisemongers Hierophant with their 2013 sophomore effort, the provocatively titled Holy Mother: Holy Monster. An absolutely punishing release, it included all the hallmarks of acts like Oathbreaker, Celeste, and Hexis in its blackened hardcore/sludge combo. However, with a cutthroat crusty edge, it forsook all subtlety for punishing vitriol, excruciatingly dense and brutal.” Death sieges us all. Hold fast!
“Hopelessness is both a universal and local phenomenon. It’s always the same handful of pressures that cause it; resource inaccessibility, environmental/health factors, power held by the unscrupulous, etc, but every place has its own particular aesthetic of hopelessness. Despondency in, say, Guangzhou, China will look, sound and feel different than it does in the American Midwest. Sludge/Noise band Chat Pile call their debut album God’s Country “Oklahoma’s specific brand of misery,” and indeed their name itself comes from the piles of toxic waste, left over from an unregulated lead and zinc extraction industry, poisoning towns in the Sooner State.” American nightmares.
“Tongue of Silver represents two landscapes. It beats down upon the dead soil of the barren American West, empty and lonely winds plastering sun-bleached hills. But it pulses with the beating heart of its folklore, as legendary as it is flesh and blood. It’s a tall tale of the mundane, paying homage to not only Americana, but to the crushing weight of drone metal. The story it tells is not of speedy gunslingers or soul-searching troubadours but found in the negative spaces “somewhere between sand and rust:” a living, breathing, and uniquely American commentary on expansion and decay.” American threads.
“I liked a lot about Wailin Storms’ 2020 album Rattle. Reading back over my review, I mention doom metal, post-hardcore, the High Lonesome Sound, haunted hollers and swamps and David Eugene Edwards. I called it “fire-and-brimstone snake-handling speaking in tongues nightmare music,” and friends, that’s practically my erogenous zone. The major issue with Rattle was a dearth of compositional ideas. Still, they’re one of the few gothic Americana acts out there with a metal heart, so I had high hopes for any potential follow up.” No steppy on snake.
