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In a continuing attempt to cover more music that would all-too-oft slip through the very large cracks, we slumbering scribes are making an effort to publish the little one-off reviews that were previously (and arbitrarily) deemed too short for publication. Here's a mini-review of an aggressive and crushing and seething EP.
Written by: The Administrator
There are several trigger phrases existing in the world of music promo that activate a deep and primal need to drop everything and listen immediately. One such heretofore unknown phrase is the dangerous "FFO Napalm Death/Godflesh," which Noosed unsuspectingly dropped in a brief message in regards to their new EP. Consider this particular agent activated on an immediate basis. I don't even have time to allow the headphones to connect; you already know I'm playing this shit through the phone speaker. Let's fuckin' go. Noosed play an abrasive and intrinsically violent conglomerate of noise, grind, crust, and sludge. There's a massive presence to the low end that feels oppressive on the basis of mere proximity. The riffage grinds with the sheer heft of damp cement. The percussion stomps forward with a grim intensity, like unto cast-iron industrial revolution machinery gone rogue. The vocals are raw and belligerent, yet tinged with a nihilistic sense of despair that lends an overall nuance to the project. The use of vocal samples is also a huge strong suit when it comes to driving home the thematic overtones. Although brief and fairly blistering, OMEN bludgeons with a sense of somber nuance. It's not industrial and it's not sludge, but it does a damn good job at sitting uncomfortably somewhere betwixt the two. Of course, OMEN is far from polished. That's arguably the crux of the project's inherent charm. There's a tangible rawness and strain seeping from these four-tracks-plus-an-intro, and that undiluted emotive weight certainly strikes a chord. Not an easy listen per se, but one worth immersing yourself in. Noosed - OMEN was released may 5th, 2023. Find it here!
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Written by: The Administrator
Let's get the obvious out of the way. If you're reading a review for a band called, erm, Chestcrush, and haven't yet mentally and physically prepared to have your sternum mercilessly shattered and ground down into the finest of bonemeal, you might want to swiftly backpedal into calmer waters. Two parts of this three-track monstrosity are perhaps the most belligerent and violent manifestations of the Chestcrush approach to date, which is saying something if you are familiar with their prior work. Indeed, Apechtheia is as crushingly malevolent as 2021’s stellar Vdelygmia. The aggression displayed is frankly pretty stunning. However, on this latest, the stakes feel grander and the violence at play feels more calculated, more sinister. The tracks are certainly longer, trading the comfort of familiar song structure for more expansive odysseys through grinding blackened death and, perhaps more uncomfortable, a viciously introspective brand of nihilism. Apechtheia is progressive in the sense that it truly feels like a deliberate progression beyond that which came before. It feels like a genuine maturation.
This year, in an attempt to cover more music that would all-too-oft slip through the very large cracks, we're trying something new and novel around these parts. Namely, we're gonna actually publish the little one-off reviews that were previously (and arbitrarily) deemed too short for publication. In that spirit, here's a mini-review of a single that captures a certain rage.
Written by: The Administrator
Much like, y'know, anyone reading this, I'm consumed by persistent overboiling rage. Such rage necessitates an appropriate soundtrack, and here I am, hitting repeat on Helena Ford's "A Song of Independence" for the fourth time today. This is flag-burning music of the highest and most overt order--an explosive harsh noise catharsis with corresponding conflagration. This 10-minute-and-change track has a strong foundation in the classic power electronic stalwarts. Roaring static and undulating waves of squealing and/or jittering feedback. A torrential white noise. Thrumming bass that sounds like the unholy lovechild of a hovering helicopter and the purr of a malfunctioning mechanized feline. Screaming electronic death knells. An unflinching wall of distortion. A tantalizingly nauseating environ. The noise is consistently overwhelming across the breadth, but the track truly hits a profoundly forceful peak as the vocals enter the fray. The delivery is so gloriously harsh, like unto the last monologue of a drowning artificial intelligence. While brief in the grand scheme of "A Song of Independence" as a whole, the vocals serve as a center point from which the remainder of the track is grounded. I'll be the first to admit that harsh noise, power electronics, and experimental electronic music in general is not my bread and butter. As such, I have few points of comparison, and so any description mustered here is based entirely upon the listening experience itself. Hopefully that is a useful frame. In any case, if you're in the mood for an overwhelming and thoroughly enraged soundscape, "A Song of Independence" will undoubtedly serve you very well. In additional, all proceeds will go to anarchist mutual aid funds, so you really can't go wrong. Check it out below, andpurchase via bandcamp! Helena Ford - A Song of Independence was released July 4th, 2022
Helena Ford can be found:
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