Chairmaker is everything that’s good about grind. Those riffs where you hit 16 million power chords in the space of 10 seconds, no one really knows how you do it, it’s just crab action all over the finger board. It’s aggression, it’s confrontation, it’s a challenge to the mélange of bullshit we are exposed to everyday. Don’t you dare step in its way. The subject matter is dense, cryptobro dealers vie for the money of people who don’t really have it, whilst leaders sneer at scientific fact and espouse a constant sewer pipe of sludgey propaganda designed to make you look elsewhere. Thank god then that Chairmaker exists, a relief valve for the steaming pressure cooker of day-to-day life, a release from the constant misery, if only to be a reminder that it exists and we should not let it define us.
From track one there is a bludgeoning destruction of the drum kit, the man’s got cardio to say the least. Blast beats a plenty, d-beats for days and a constant grind running through it all like a chainsaw that needs oiling but refuses to stop running. Trawl through some of the freshest grind in years and you’re rewarded with delightfully punctuated vocals over the top of dynamic riffs.. You thought you were headbanging enough. You weren’t because you need to lay down with Chairmaker’s new record and succumb.
Oh my lord it’s even got samples before dropping into the absolute sonic assault. It provides reprieve only to take it away with a tasteful slow blast or regular 4/4. This is pop music for extreme metal fans, it manages to encapsulate everything that’s great about our end of the musical spectrum. And whilst it’s clearly an angry record, it can’t help but be cathartic in its style, providing release through ramping up the anger and letting it wash over the listener.
The French trio of Pierre-Yo (guitars/vocals), Magali (drums) and Léa (bass), better known as This Will Destroy Your Ears (TWDYE) first assaulted the ears of the listening public with 2019’s Clear, following it up in 2022 with Everybody knows Mickey. Now they’re back with new album Funland, an album heavily inspired by the time the trio spent in one of the UK’s premiere tourist spots – Blackpool, a place that’s both a sonic and visual assault on your ears in the height of the season, but is a strangely desolate and depressing place when the lights are off and all the tourists have gone home, and that’s what we have here. An album that strives to encompass both the beauty and the desolation, that veers from triumphant highs to shuddering, depressive lows.
Kicking things off is the aptly named ‘Gorgeous Eve Holds a Banger Hammer’ and that’s a great way to describe this opening track, an ode to Blackpool itself and all the fascinating characters the band encountered there, including a karaoke pirate, a hopeful angel and a slightly sloshed mermaid. A high energy piece that, just to be contrary, implores you to “C-A-L-M, take it slow, don’t freak out.” A lot of the tracks are like this. Just under this post-punk, noise rock surface there’s a soulful Indie heartbeat. It’s all too easy to enjoy the songs at face value, but once you listen more closely to what’s being said, you find a subversive streak running through the lyrics, sometimes subtle, sometimes not, with cutting lines like “Sometimes I wish you’d been swallowed by your mum”.
Their debut, Mirrors, took the UK underground by surprise with its violent offering of mathcore and, never one to rest on their laurels, followed it up with the luscious, expansive, yet still abrasive Blossom. Just two years after Blossom, it’s interesting to see on which side of their canvas Pupil Slicer have chosen to paint from.
Fleshwork, by design, is a far more oppressive offering but without a lot of the obvious complexities of its predecessors. Tackling complex topics like systemic abuse, erasure of marginalised communities, and societal destruction with a more front facing, stripped back sonic palette is the right course of action. Gone are the labyrinthine song structures of Blossom, and in their place stand a collection of songs that aim to take a hammer to the face and stand over you expressionless. For the most part, this approach is incredibly successful. The opening triptych of ‘Heather’, ‘Gordian’, and ‘Sacrosanct’are punchy, violent bursts that could go toe to toe with a heavyweight boxer and get a knockdown or two. Kate Davies is also in top form vocally, while new addition to the band Luke Booth (bassist) feels like such a natural fit alongside his rhythmic counterpart, the always impressive Josh Andrews.
Choosing a name is arguably the most important decision a band ever makes. Not only does it need to be unique and memorable, but in the best cases it should give insight into exactly what to expect from the music. Aptly chosen then is the name of Atlanta three-piece Silly Goose, who’s playfully boisterous style of nu metal has one foot either side of the fence separating authenticity and parody. Produced by Josh Wilbur (Korn, Papa Roach, Trivium), their sophomore LP Keys To The City is laced with the hunger of a band chomping at the bit to make it big. And after one playthrough of this record it’s hard to deny they’re well on their way. Whether encouraging chaos on careless house party anthem ‘Neighbors’ or breakdowns of prehistoric proportion on ‘The Great Dino Escape’, the trio bring their fiery all or nothing approach to every single track. And while the trio aren’t scared of embracing humour in their music, make no mistake: the riffs on this record are no joke.
Opening interlude ‘Intro’ immediately sets the scene: metal spurs on cowboy boots clinking as sand crunches underfoot, the distant caw of a crow radiating through the desert landscape, creaky saloon doors swinging open to lively piano music and bustling bar inside. “Hey Billy, what song you playin’, that Cowboy?” a cartoonishly southern voice hollers over the sound of smashing glass and lively drunkards, “Turn it up!” The distorted riff that bursts through the next track ‘Cowboy’ is an unmistakable blast of nu metal nostalgia sure to have the ears of any Limp Bizkit fan in a five-mile radius perking up. It’s hard to believe this is riff isn’t the brainchild of the band’s legendary guitarist West Borland but the Goose’s own Ian Binion, whose guitarwork across this record excellently encapsulates the best the genre has to offer. For a song condemning highway gridlock in the state capital, album standout ‘Traffic’ paradoxically demands movement with fast, agitated drumming, drop-tuned riffs and amusingly aggressive lyricism that correctly summons the rage of watching another driver pull out in front of you without indicating first. Swaggering titular track ‘Keys To The City’ arrives halfway through the tracklist and is laced with funky basslines, record scratches and a punch-packing chorus that channels nu metal acts both old and new in P.O.D. and Ocean Grove.
With increasingly large-scale shows, including European appearances at Primavera Sound and on the main stage at Outbreak, singer Ian Shelton shifted from the relative shade of the drumstool he occupies for his other band, furious hardcore outfit Regional Justice Center, and into the glare of being a fully-fledged frontman. It’s fair to say it hasn’t all been smooth sailing.
Where Militarie Gun‘s previous work traced the echoes of generational hurt from something of a remove, this time out Shelton places himself squarely in centre frame, acknowledging the toll taken by drinking and touring and more touring and more drinking. The palpable tension between outward momentum and an internal unraveling is at the heart of God Save The Gun.
Opener ‘B A D I D E A’ wastes little time in setting the tone. Militarie Gun’s instantly recognisable explosive instrumentation is present and correct despite the recent near-wholesale lineup changes which, most notably, saw lead guitarist Nick Cogan depart to focus on his work in Drug Church. There are blown-out drums and distorted bass under restless guitars and sparkling synth lines with just about enough space to squeeze in Shelton’s trademark barked ‘Ooh ooh’. However, the adrenalised gallop out of the gate comes complete with unvarnished honesty:
I’ve been slipping up, slipping up, slipping up / My eyes are baggy and my face is puffed up
The collision of swaggering rock maximalism and emotional erosion runs throughout the record. A case in point is ‘God Owes Me Money’, a track with all the bright, triumphant shimmer of The Killers at their most widescreen. It pulses with defiant grandeur, as though pain itself could be shaped into currency if you just shout loud enough.
LA-based industrialist death pop darkwave duo VOWWS have been shrouded in gloom and mystery since their formation in 2013. But between star-dotted fans including The Smashing Pumpkins, Korn and A Perfect Circle to collaborations with high-profile guests such as Gary Numan, Chino Moreno, Chelsea Wolfe and Korn guitarist James “Munky” Shaffer, it’s very easy to see why VOWWS have gained such a cult following with goths, metalheads and everyone else in between. New album I’ll Fill Your House With An Army will no doubt to continue to see VOWWS take one and all under their shadowy wing.
With two LP’s and a multitude of EPs and remixes under their belt already, this third album is track after track of pure ghastly despair. From the dissonant guitars, reverb-heavy 808’s, and the lush vocal harmonies from dual vocalists Rizz and Matt James, VOWWS’s experimentation have made them one of darkwave’s most interesting outfits in recent years. Intro track ‘Blood’s On Fire’ sets the tone of the album; with drums of a thousand armies, hauntingly eerie synth lines and lyrical content self-described as the desire to lose yourself in something, regardless of the outcome, it’s truly a perfectly ominous choice for a first single, and a memorable introduction of things to come.
