Body Void don’t do things by half measures. That much is clear when the new album Atrocity Machine blasts out its socio-political dirge of macabre grating noise. Willow Ryan (guitars, bass, synths, vocals) has always chosen to write about real life issues, “if you go back to our demos that we released as Devoid it’s very much focused on the same stuff. I think the only thing that’s changed is the angles which we approach these topics from, whether it’s more personal or abstract.” And there’s no difference with the latest release, an ode to (among other things) rising police violence in the USA, and the oppressive cosh of the capitalist system that entangles us all in its invasive need for constant cancerous growth, often at the cost of the very industries and products that uphold it’s massive cantankerous weight.
Doom metal has long been a “kind of framework to present musical ideas for me (Willow). It’s conducive to building dread and tension, which is something I appreciate in any kind of art.” It also reflects Body Void’s ethos around living in this current moment, even as they, “drifted from more recognisable style of doom,” they have managed to maintain a heavy oppressive atmosphere, for sure Atrocity Machine is one of the darkest, claustrophobic release of last year. The album heralded a change in approach for them in terms of how the music was written compared to previous releases, “during the pandemic I started demoing more using midi and DAW to accommodate long distance projects. The process really clicked for me, and Atrocity Machine was the first album to be written mostly with software. It really enabled what we wanted to do with synthesizers and electronics.” The record delves more heavily into industrial aspects than previous releases, something that Willow has “wanted to do since the beginning of Body Void, at least in the abstract.” They were, “never really sure what it might sound like,” but when the opportunity to work with Ben Greenburg came along, it seemed like the time to do it.
“The album conveys an experience not unlike, “just trying to keep your head above water…it’s like 43 minutes of looking past that (the act of living in the current capitalist climate) and just living with the horror.”
Over in Vermont, where Body Void, hail from there’s currently a “huge groundswell of focus on the police since 2020, whether it’s their outsized budgets or negligent officials.” This seems to be par for the course with music that is politically inclined, however the band also take a keen interest in the environmental issues that present themselves in such a rural location. “There always seems to be this impending will to develop land and clear forests that we have to keep pushing back on,” once again the parasitic head of capitalism rears itself from the depths of Body Void’s music and although Willow notes there is, “an openness to talking about it (political issues), they would never say it’s a focal point for political actions or anything like that. That said, as it becomes even harder to make a living playing music in the US, it’s hard not to feel acutely the way the interest of capital is choking almost every creative industry here, and how that’s indicative of the way things are going in the wider world.” Willow concludes that, “all this stuff we have to reckon with whether we want to or not.”
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That is one of the cruxes of Atrocity Machine too, dealing with something whether we want to or not, sometimes it’s easier said than done, “in the case of Atrocity Machine, it’s almost like allowing the denial and cognitive dissonance that enables a person to live in this capitalist hellscape to fall away. To face what’s on the other side head on, because as much horror exists in the world, we can’t let ourselves be paralysed by it and I truly think there’s a kind of denial that comes with that.”
The album clearly bestows the feelings of the relentless oppressive nature of the current sociopolitical systems, the sound is moulded by personal experiences, as Willow states, “I don’t really think you can separate one from the other, everything is really personal. I think Body Void is a way to process certain feelings that are harder for me to face directly.” Not only is it a catharsis for them but also the listener, the album conveys an experience not unlike, “just trying to keep your head above water…it’s like 43 minutes of looking past that (the act of living in the current capitalist climate) and just living with the horror.” Fortunately the band leave, “what comes after…up to the listener,” in a final flourish that thrusts forth a spirit of both hope for a future in terms of the way in which we collectively deal with the production of art, and the function of living in a world that seems to constantly seek to not only consume itself in a frenzy of perpetual growth but also consume the very people who – willingly or not – prop up the very system that feeds upon them.
Fortunately Willow does offer options, hopeful that people will continue, “moving towards the edges (of the capitalist system) further outside of its reach.” Whilst this sometimes seems like an impossibility their ideas continue to blossom, provided a faint glimmer of hope that people can, “create communities in those liminal spaces that don’t rely on mainstream institutions and corporations. Communities that support and provide for each other,” remarking that it might be, “the best we can hope for.”