Metropolis Records – 3rd November 2023 (Digital) / 17th November 2023 (CD)
Christopher Nosnibor
Ian Ross’ electro-industrial project Flesh Field emerges, quite unexpectedly, from almost two decades of dormancy, twenty years in mute, to deliver ‘A concept work with each of its ten tracks representing stages of political radicalisation and violence, Ross states in the CD booklet that “believing falsehoods because those falsehoods reinforce our preferred narratives is not harmless. Promoting falsehoods to benefit your faction is not harmless, particularly in a well-armed society. If we remain locked in our own echo chambers, inevitably there will a voice of the echo chamber that speaks in the language of mass murder, believing it justified. This album describes that tragic inevitability.”
It’s not hard to ascertain ‘why now?’ While I’ve long become weary of the endless and continuing stream of ‘lockdown projects’ emerging, it’s a fair assessment that the pandemic did change everything. Confined, pressurised, and subjected to a relentless bombardment of news media, government ‘information’ and directives, and often with only social media for company beyond the four walls of home imprisonment, people struggled to separate fact from misinformation and conspiracy, reality from fiction and imagination.
I first really noticed the echo chamber some time before, in 2016, with the Brexit referendum in June, swiftly followed by the election of Donald Trump as US president in November. Both results seemed not only implausible, but nigh on impossible. No-one I knew or spoke to supported either as far as I knew – why would anyone vote for either of these outcomes? But against a backdrop of simmering tensions and social divisions and a general melee of things being pretty fucked, these seemingly unimaginable things came to pass. I would subsequently learn that relatives had voted in favour of Brexit ‘to see what would happen’. Fucking Boomers who won’t be around to live through the worst of the fallout. And this is how it goes when you have ageing populations and a swing towards the right in uncertain times. People seek to protect their own interests rather than the greater good. It doesn’t necessarily mean that echo chambers perpetuate falsehoods, but they do most certainly create confirmation bias, foster complacency, and distort reality by creating a bubble. And now… there is no way Ross could have predicted the dark turn that would assail the Middle East just a few short weeks ago. The divisions surrounding this conflict reverberate around the globe. And we watch. And we watch. It’s simply more TV, more unreality to many.
During Flesh Field’s protracted period of inactivity, their work continues to spread, like a fungus, or to perhaps use an analogy more akin to their own spheres of reference, like a virus, numerous tracks from their catalogue were placed in the soundtracks of films including the just released The Mill, TV shows such as True Blood and video games like Project Gotham Racing. Sometimes, being away is the best promotion.
But there couldn’t be a more appropriate time for Flesh Field to return, and Voice of the Echo Chamber is a powerful document reflecting these difficult times. The opening track, ‘
Crescendo’ stars strong, with a cacophony of babbling voices, before thunderous percussion and bold orchestral strikes build big drama. Not since Red Raw and Sore by PIG have I been struck by such a grand intro to an album, and this melds driving metallic guitars, industrial-strength techno beats and seething bombast. It’s a strong cocktail and one that hits the listener right between the eyes, paving the way for a set of ten insistent tracks all driven by loping sequenced synths and thudding hefty beats pushed to the fore and pumping, pulsating hypnotically. The are choral bursts woven into the dense fabric of the compositions, as well as strings and piano and incidental noise: ‘Catalyst’ crunches in with a harsh mechanised grind which gives way to a filly cinematic string segment before the pounding beat slams in and things get dark, like an industrial reimagining of Holst’s ‘Planets’ suite. The vocals are low in the mix and low in the throat. The delivery means the lyrics aren’t always especially audible, but the sentiment and energy is relentlessly loud and clear amidst the grunt, grind, and crackle.
‘Arsenal’ goes big, a gritty anthemic chorus paired with a crunchy industrial verse that draws together elements of NIN, KMFDM, and PIG, to big, big effect, being both attacking and cinematic at the same time. There’s plenty of attack here, but equally, Voice of the Echo Chamber is big on bold, widescreen, cinematic segments. ‘Manifesto’ is a monster, with all the guitars, all the orchestral work, and a relentless beat that hits hard and heavy and it all comes together to create a big, big sound. The pounding ‘Soldier’ is really big on impact, and contrasts well with the brooding, slow-crawling ambience and piano atmospherics of the unexpectedly gentle introduction to ‘Rampage’.
There’s a certain sense of uplifting empowerment to be found in the chorus of the last track, ‘Reset’. Ewe need this glummer of optimism in the face of so much relentless bleakness and gut-crushing darkness, which ends with more crowds, more shouting. You flinch and stall, because it’s too close, too real.
In places harsh and stark despite its enormity, Voice of the Echo Chamber is a strong, relentless, unyielding blast. I feel that this is a time to sit back, let things repercuss in their own time, and step back while Ian Ross blasts distortion, vitriol, and amplifies self-loathing with brutal force. Feel it.
AAAA
