Posts Tagged ‘Mark Gemini Thwaite’

Atlanta, Georgia – based darkwave act, NOW AFTER NOTHING has unveiled their latest video for the single, ‘Entangled’.

‘Entangled’, the final track on the band’s latest release, Artificial Ambivalence, is a song about the reality of being completely enveloped in those people (or things) that do little more than stir massive amounts of chaos and anguish into our worlds. Lyrically, the song represents a moment of clarity as the protagonist begins to physically and emotionally struggle with trying to separate themselves from the situation.

The concept behind the video was to reimagine the lyrics through a sequence of hazy and mostly dreamlike scenarios as if to echo memories, feelings, and a general flood of emotions.

A highly unorthodox song to release as a single with its near two-minute long, dreamy instrumental introduction and unique song structure, ‘Entangled’ is a favorite of NOW AFTER NOTHING founder, Matt Spatial: “It’s one of my most favored songs that I’ve ever written. I felt very strongly about wanting to bring a visual dimension to it.  From the soothing intro through to the climactic cacophony of multiple, intermingling voices (representing the chaos and intensity of emotions) it is certainly the most ambitious song I’ve ever written and recorded.”

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Atlanta indie darkwave duo, NOW AFTER NOTHING strikes with a thrum and thrill. Songwriter Matt Spatial is a multi-instrumentalist with a flair for the fierce, joining forces with drummer Michael Allen. Together, they twist classic roots into modern reverberations, sparking a sound that’s as sinuous as it is savage. There’s My Bloody Valentine’s lush lilt and Sonic Youth’s fierce, unfiltered power.

Spatial melds these influences into something electric and exhilarating—goth-glam grooves slick with sweat, raw enough to leave a mark. Fans have called it “S&M disco,” a sinister shimmer of punk, industrial grind, and nocturnal new wave.

“Starting this band was a return to music for me, and more so a reclaiming of my identity, after a relatively difficult time in my life,” Spatial reflects. “I had become lost and depressed without a creative outlet with which to express myself…”

NOW AFTER NOTHING released their first single, ‘Sick Fix’ in January, 2023, and the road leading toward the album’s release in September, 2024 was a bruising one: pain, self-reckoning, and restless nights shaped each song. That agony bore fruit, however, landing the band a #15 spot-on the Deutsche Alternative Charts just a month later.

True to their namesake, Matt Spatial’s lyrics stitch together themes that bite and burn—social, political, personal truths—into instrumentals layered with darkness. Each of the six tracks on Artificial Ambivalence tells a tale: sometimes blunt, sometimes blurred, about lives twisted in familiar binds, a story born from someone’s raw reality. At its core, Artificial Ambivalence lays bare toxic ties—to others, to addictions, to the churning echo chambers of social media, news, and power.

Artificial Ambivalence, as a concept, to me represents the state of feeling lost and/or the ‘shutting down’ from the negativity and toxicity around each of us,”  -  Matt Spatial

The album was mixed by Carl Glanville (U2, Joan Jett) and mastered by John Davis and Felix Davis. Additional guitar work from Mark Gemini Thwaite (Peter Murphy, Gary Numan, Mission UK) can be heard on ‘Sick Fix’ and ‘Dare’.

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3 November 2017

Christopher Nosnibor – Christopher Nosnibor

Primitive Race emerged through a collaborative release with Raymond Watts’ cult techno / industrial vehicle PIG in 2015, which was swiftly followed by an eponymous debut album. Conceived by Lords Of Acid manager / executive producer Chris Kniker, the band’s first iteration featured Graham Crabb (Pop Will Eat Itself), Erie Loch (LUXT, Blownload, Exageist), and Mark Thwaite (Peter Murphy, Tricky, Gary Numan), with a vast roll-call of guest contributors including Tommy Victor (Prong, Ministry, Danzig), Dave “Rave” Ogilvie (Skinny Puppy, Jackalope), Kourtney Klein (Combichrist, Nitzer Ebb), Mark “3KSK” Brooks (Warlock Pinchers, Foreskin 500, Night Club), Josh Bradford (RevCo, Stayte, Simple Shelter), and Andi Sex Gang. As such, they set out their stall as not so much a supergroup, but an industrial uber-collective, and Primitive Race captured that essence perfectly.

Soul Pretender marks a dramatic shift in every way. This is not an ‘industrial’ album. If anything, it’s a grunge album. That’s no criticism: it’s simply a statement of fact.

And while Primitive Race was by no means light on hooks or choruses, Soul Pretender is overtly commercial in comparison. Again, it’s no criticism, but simply a statement of fact.

It’s a common mistake made by critics to posit a negative critique based on what an album isn’t, without really taking into account the aims and objectives which made the album the album it is. So: ‘technoindustrial supergroup make an album that isn’t technoindustrial therefore it’s shit’ is wrong from the very outset.

Kniker makes no bones about the shift: Primitive Race was always intended to be a collaborative vehicle, and with former Faith No More singer Chuck Mosley on lead vocals and Melvins drummer Dale Crover on board, it was inevitable that Soul Pretender would have a different feel.

There’s a warped, Melvins / Mr Bungle vibe about the verse of the opener, ‘Row House, which is centred around a classic cyclical grunge riff that shift between chorus and overdrive on the guitar, and the 90s vice carries into the melodic ‘Cry Out,’ which is centred around three descending chords in the verse, erupting into a chorus that’s pure Nevermind Nirvana. And that’s no bad thing: it’s a great pop-influenced alt-rock tune with a belting chous.

The excessive guitar posturing on ‘Take It All’ is less impressive as a listening experience than on a technical level, but it’s soon blown away by the sneering ‘Bed Six’, with its chubby riffage and overall thrust.

The title track is perhaps the perfect summary of the album as a whole: uplifting four-chord chugs and a monster chorus are uplifting and exhilarating, and ‘Nothing to Behold’ works the classic grunge dynamic with a sinewy guitar and melodic hook. In fact, ‘classic’ is a key descriptor while assessing the compositional style of Soul Pretender: there isn’t a dud track on it, and the songrwiting is tight. There may not be any immediate standouts, but the consistency is impressive, and in that department, it’s a step up from its predecessor, which packed some crackers, but a handful of more middling tunes. Again, the change in methodology – a static lineup rather than infinite collaborators – is likely a factor here.

The album’s lack track, ‘Dancing on the Sun’, is a slow-burn beast, with hints of ‘Black Hole Sun’ trodden beneath the heft and swagger of Queens of the Stone Age. It’s precisely the track in which an album should end, nodding to the epic and marking an optimal change of pace. And it’s in reflecting on the overall structure and shape of Soul Pretender that it’s possible to reflect on what a great album it is, with its back-to-back riffery and explosive choruses. And did I mention force…

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