Human Worth – 15th March 2024
Christopher Nosnibor
Warren Schoenbright isn’t a person, but a noise duo, based in London. And Sunless, we’re told, presents ‘eight tracks [which] chart a blistering course through different circles of misery, abjection and darkness. Alighieri’s Inferno is the armature around which this new record has been sculpted with glimpses of horror plucked straight from Dante and Virgil’s descent. Schoenbright are preoccupied with using the classical trope of a descent into the Underworld to explore how transformative and redemptive navigating the melancholic and horrifying depths of one’s mind can be.’
As the title suggests, Sunless is dark. Really, really dark. Immersed in mythology and biblical references, it’s an exploration of the most torturous sufferings, gouging deep into the depths.
‘Christquake’ made for an obvious choice of lead single: the album’s shortest track at two minutes and twenty, it encapsulates the album’s entire essence in that brief and intense span – but this is an album which is best appreciated in its fullness, with the majority of the tracks extending beyond five minutes and bringing forth almost untold torture and pain.
‘Boiling Vermillion’, the album’s first track, blisters and burns. It brings expansive, tranquil passages, not least of all the vast intro, punctuated by explosions of fiery post-metal rage. There’s blasting industrial percussion and a wall of noise that towers all the way to the sky. And when it slams on the distortion – fuck! This is a sound that you feel gouging at your guts. More often than not, there’s perhaps a tendency to see heavy or noisy music as being primarily cathartic, that the sound itself is a vent, by which to channel emotions which don’t readily translate into more detailed articulation. This tendency is furthered when the lyrics are rendered obscure by their delivery. But while the lyrics are largely impenetrable, there’s another level of articulation here, and so much sonic detail…
Where Warren Schoenbright differ from so many other bands who make bleak, intense noise, is that there is so much space, so much reverb here on Sunless. Most bands this thick and heavy are suffocating in their gravity, their density. This is something I personally appreciate: the capacity for music that has an impact that’s so powerfully physical is a reason to let it enter your being. Sunless is different, though. Sunless is not suffocating. It’s intense, but its texture is different. Its scope is broader, and the album as a whole simply feels immense, in a cinematic, widescreen sense. But that isn’t to say it doesn’t contain moments of pulverising weight and density: they blast hard in short bursts which arrive unexpectedly, something which only intensifies their impact.
‘This Litany They Gargle in Their Throats’ begins fairly gently, a nagging guitar and solid percussion defining the shape of an irregular sonic sculpture which lays the foundations for a rasping, fire-breathed vocal. It’s a slow-build, and the feedback and anguish grow until there’s a sudden switch after a couple of minutes or so, and it takes a turn whereby Young Gods meet Swans circa 1984. It’s stark and intense… and then the monster grind hits like a bomb. The abrupt ending sticks like a bone in the throat.
The wailing feedback of ‘These Drear Abodes’ really tests the listener’s limits, and the hearing. Here, the intensity derives not from crushing power chords, but from a different kind of force – although the grinding low-end feels like a bulldozer excavating unseen depths, and when they do hit a barrelling blast of heavy, it’s as if the sky is falling down, a descent into the inferno indeed. This brutal bludgeoning hits even harder on ‘Minos the Judge’, and again, Swans’ Young God EP and early Godflesh stand as the most representative comparisons, but this fails to convey the soaring, transcendental elements which are every bit as integral to the sound.
While the title track brings dolorous chimes, picked guitar echoes, and burnt offerings, the final cut, ‘Icarus and the Bruised Air’ closes the album with eight and a half punishing minutes of slow grind that weighs in against the best of Godflesh, only with a much more organic feel. The drumming is nuanced, as is the guitar work, which introduces an atmospheric, almost gothy aspect to this remarkably multi-faceted composition, which culminates in a colossal and utterly eviscerating slow climax.
Playing Sunless at great volume not only heightens the impact, but really brings out the detail, and the production is absolutely incredible: the drums hit hard and you feel as if you’re in the room with them as they play, and play hard. Sunless is heavy and intense, but it’s so much more, and it’s cerebral as well as physical.
AA
AA
Aural Aggravation 