Posts Tagged ‘Political’

Cruel Nature – 26th April 2024

Christopher Nosnibor

Just as their album was smashing the charts and the band were riding the crest of the wave, the shit hit the fan for The Last Dinner Party over a quote about how “People don’t want to listen to postpunk and hear about the cost of living crisis any more.” Of course, it was taken out of context, and all the rest, but I’ve got no truck with any kind of critique from a bunch of boarding school poshos: of course they can peddle theatrical escapism, because they’ve spent their entire lives in a Gatsby-like whirl of posh frocks and soirees. The name is a bit of a giveaway: only people of a certain position in the social strata ‘do’ dinner parties, dahling, no doubt sharing culinary delights discovered while trotting the globe on their gap yahh. Meanwhile, half the country is at the point where it struggles to afford a McDonald’s, let alone gastropub grub.

It might sound counterintuitive to those so far removed from the reality endured by the majority – the Jeremy Cunts and Rachel Johnsons of the world who reckon £100K a year isn’t much – but music that reflects the grim realities of life are what people do want. Life juggling work and parenting while struggling to make ends meet can be not only stressful, but isolating, and so music which speaks of the harsh realities serves as a reminder that you are not alone. It’s relatable in the way that soaps are for many.

As an aside, I saw a post from a (virtual) friend on Facebook recently commenting that every time they visited Manchester, it pissed it down, and it so happens that this is my experience also. It’s small wonder, then, that Pound Land are such miserable mofos, and again, contrast this by way of a band name with The Last Dinner Party. This is an act that’s gritty and glum and telling it like it is. And you know how it is – and how bad it is – when stuff in Poundland, the shop, costs £1.50, £2, even a fiver. Back in the 90s, you could got to Kwik save and get a tin of No Frills baked beans for 3p and a loaf of bred for 19p.

It’s perhaps because of just how far downhill and how fast it’s happening – in real time – that with Mugged, Pound Land have delivered their most brutally blunt and utterly squalid set to date.

‘Living in Pound Land’ is a brief blast of an intro, atonal shouty pink with some wild parping jazz tossed in, and it hints at what’s to come: ‘Spawn of Thatcher’ is dirty, disdainful, spitting and snarling vocals hit with a grunt and a sneer amidst a cacophony of jazziness held together by a saw-toothed bass grind.

There are hints of The Fall in the mix, a dash of the raging fury of Uniform, too.

As ‘Flies’ evidences, they’re not all one hundred percent serious: against a pounding drum machine reminiscent of Big Black and a bowel-tensing bass, we get a yelping pseudo-John Lydon vocal going on about flies in his underpants.

The nine-minute ‘Power to the People’ is the album’s centrepiece, literally and figuratively. A slow, groaning behemoth, it thuds and grinds away for nine and a half minutes, coming on like ‘Albatross’ for the 2020s (That’s PiL, not Fleetwood Mac) mixed with a Fall cut circa ‘Slates’ played at half speed, its grinding repetition emerging more at the Swans end of the spectrum. It’s ugly, it’s unpretentious. ‘Power to the people! Make everything equal!’ slides down to a rabid howl of ‘be happy with what you’ve got’, exposing the lie of meritocracy and social mobility. The album’s second ten-minute monster, ‘Shish Doner Mix Apocalypse’ is a brutal shredder – like much of the rest of the album, only longer.

Contextually, one might be inclines to position Pound Land somewhere alongside Sleaford Mods and Benefits, but they’re a very different proposition – sociopolitical, yes, but more overtly rock in musical terms, mashing up punk, post-punk, krautrock and noise rock. And then there’s that manic jazz streak.

The snarling racket of single cut ‘Pistol Shrimp’ is both representative, and as nice as it gets. That is to say, Mugged is not nice: in fact, it’s harrowing, gnarly, overtly unpleasant. But it is also entirely necessary.

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1st December 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

I’m aware that there’s a conspicuous absence of rap and hip-hop to be found in my coverage. I suppose that’s largely because it doesn’t really fit the rubric I envisaged for Aural Aggravation when I decided to do my own thing back in 2015. But occasionally I worry that this feels discriminatory, not to mention unjustly dismissive, of a huge swathe of music that could well appeal not only to myself, but visitors to the site. The fact I’ve raved about dälek on more than one occasion not only evidences that I’m not completely hip-hop averse, but also reminds me of the same. Some hip-hop is pretty dark, and also pretty heavy.

Snoop Dogg isn’t a name one commonly associates with dark or heavy, and my interest in this release was in fact piqued by noticing that Ooberfuse are playing a tiny venue in York ten minutes up the road from me here in York next week. How does an act who’s just released single with Snoop come to be doing that? The music industry is screwed, but it’s clear Ooberfuse aren’t doing it for the fame or the glory.

Said single, ‘Hard Times’ represents the best of hip-hop. It is dark, and it is heavy, and comes with a hard social message.

That many people find Christmas a challenging time, and in particular the homeless, is widely documented, but this documentation tends to remain the domain of the further corners of news outlets and adverts from charities. But against a stark, dark musical backing – and this is when hip-hop is absolutely at its best.

The first-person lyrics are direct and powerful, and backed by a shuffling beat and stark piano, it’s a hard-hitting track paired with an equally powerful video. One gets the impression that Snoop’s contribution serves primarily to draw attention – and I say ‘good’. This track needs to be heard and people really need to fucking listen. In a world where we have billionaires, there should be no such thing as poverty.

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Well. Bloody hell. If you’re up for a powerful video – one that really hits home and makes you feel strong and wide-ranging emotions – accompanied by a bold, anthemic song, you need this.

No more words are required.

Watch ‘A Ready Defense’ by Feather Trade here:

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By Norse Music – 1st December 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

First released in 1989, Gula Gula was Mari Boine’s second album proved to be her breakthrough, earning her a Norwegian Grammy award and providing the gateway to a career which continues over thirty years later as an international voice for the Sámi peoples. The album, originally self-released, would later come to the attention of Peter Gabriel, who would release it worldwide on his label Real World Records in 1993. But 1993 was twenty years ago already, and there are many – including myself – who will be unacquainted with this album, or even Boine’s work. This reissue comes with the added bonus of two previously unreleased tracks from the Gula Gula studio sessions which were only recently discovered.

That the songs of Gula Gula are primarily sung in the Northern Sámi language is both unusual and significant, being key to what her bio described as ‘the fight of preserving the culture of the Norwegian Sami people and the natural world. Two matters that lie close to Mari’s heart and are still threatened to this day. The indigenous people have a wisdom that says that the earth is our mother, and if she is harmed, we are harming ourselves.’

These feel more salient now than ever, as we witness the effects of global climate change and a world riven with cultural conflicts whereby dominant cultures continue to oppress and obliterate older, indigenous cultures in the name of ‘progress’ – as if the most brutal applications of capitalism are the only way. This album’s reissue happens to land in the same week that Israel resumed its onslaught to decimate the whole of Gaza in the name of defending itself against a minority terrorist organisation, while the UK government slammed down some truly brutal plans to slash immigration under the premise of benefiting the economy. This determination to stamp out difference is diabolical, but somehow accepted as reasonable by many. But in taking such destructive paths, it should be apparent that the harm goes far deeper and wider than the claimed intent. Similarly, those who vent their ire against the likes of Just Stop Oil and XR for employing methods which are disruptive and argue that these methods turn people off from their message are missing the point that a) non-disruptive protest hasn’t achieved anything like enough b) there should be no debate when it comes to their message. What they’re objecting to, then, ultimately, is that these protesters are trying to force them to face uncomfortable truths. The saddest fact is that those objecting to the protests don’t give a fuck and just want to get on with driving their SUVs to the McDonald’s drive-thru.

So, at the heart of Mari Boine’s songs is a certain tension which may not always be immediately apparent from their melodic musicality, especially if you’re not fluent in Northern Sámi. For that, you can be forgiven, and whether or not you’re versant in the sociopolitical aspects of their context, it’s easy to appreciate the music on a more superficial level.

The songs of Gula Gula are quite simply arranged, and are, fundamentally, manifestations of folk music. But while the instrumentation is predominantly acoustic, and serves to provide a backing to Mari’s voice, which while always melodic, shows at times a stirring degree of ferocity and passion, as on ‘Vilges Suola’ while the piano-led ‘Eadnán Bákti’ is a soft ballad. ‘It Šat Duolmma Mu’ brings both raw power and some intricate musicianship melded to a thumping subterranean groove.

‘Oppskrift for Herrefolk’ (‘Recipe for a Master Race’) finds Mari singing in Norwegian on the album’s most overtly political song. Musically, it marks something of a departure, too, with a screeching 80s rock guitar solo slicing through the trilling folksiness. It’s almost as if it’s there to reinforce a point. And it works. It’s worth considering for a moment that there are places where such a song could lead to arrest, and worse. This isn’t to say that the Sámi have it easy, but to highlight the fact that these struggles are real and often go widely unreported, unacknowledged, the voices unheard.

Whether taken in, or out, of context, Gula Gula is an enchanting and powerful album.

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Orcus Nullify has just unveiled their highly-anticipated new full-length album, Creatures Of The Wheel.

The new LP was influenced by the current of darkness running blatantly through the United States’ politics. This has brought with it a blood red flood of gun violence, inequality and cultural warfare.

Society’s eyes are closed tightly shut as it votes in well-branded neo-fascism. This blindness is an abandonment of a government for and of its people. There is indifference and lack of respect towards our fellow man. There’s a struggle between environmental policy and greed. It’s a short, dark road we’re on.

As a taster, they’ve released a video for the track ‘No Justice’, and a song that’s brimming with early 80s UK goth vibes. Watch the video here:

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Orcus Nullify is mainly a solo project of Bruce Nullify. Bruce is a multi-instrumentalist that has been creating music under this name since 2012.

Bruce had his start in the mid eighties, playing bass for a  hardcore band, Birth of a New Generation (BONG). During this time, Bruce was fortunate enough to open for acts like 7 Seconds, Agnostic Front and Gang Green. He then played guitar and performed vocals for a few other local bands in Central Florida.

After almost a fifteen year hiatus from music, Bruce returns with the band name Orcus Nullify – a name that he created for a previous band back in the 90s.

Despite his youth, Bruce had been hurt, seen people hurt and hurt others deeply. He saw that lies were very powerful and evil – something to be destroyed. Orcus is a mythological Roman god, specifically, the punisher of broken oaths. Orcus Nullify is the weapon which destroys lies and takes revenge for the oppressed.

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Neurot Recordings – 10th November 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

It’s practically impossible to overstate just how grim things have got lately. It’s not just any one thing, either. The climate is fucked, the economy is fucked, the world is at war. This isn’t about local pockets of fuckedness. It’s all fucked. Ex Everything very much appreciate this, as set out in the notes which accompany Slow Change Will Pull Us Apart: ‘Our world has been gradually falling apart. This may seem like a bleak point of view, but the collapse we’re all witnessing inspired post-mathcore outfit Ex Everything as they created their eruptive debut Slow Change Will Pull Us Apart… “Everything around us–politically, socially, environmentally–seems to be stretching and breaking,” says guitarist Jon Howell. “Our record sits in that terrifying place where you’ve been watching it happen.”

A fair few people I know – my age bracket in particular – have said they’ve stopped watching or reading news because it’s detrimental to their mental health. No doubt it is, but the bliss of ignorance can’t last forever and ignoring everything that’s going on is the ultimate compliance. British politicians in particular repeatedly begin sentences with ‘let me be clear’ – before rolling out an endless ream of obfuscations. So let me be clear. Everything is fucked, and things are only going to get worse.

As their bio summarises, ‘The Bay Area quartet boasts current and former members of Kowloon Walled City, Early Graves, Mercy Ties, Blowupnihilist, Less Art and others, but listeners shouldn’t mistake this for a short-term project or side band. This is a priority, every member focused and committed, and it only takes a few minutes with the album to understand how serious they are. “This band is completely its own thing,” says Howell. “It addresses the part of us that wants to write fast, chaotic, knotty, messy, pissed off music.”’

Fast, chaotic, knotty, messy, pissed off music is precisely what these chaotic, knotty, messy times call for. It feels as if the world was waiting for the pandemic to end to go absolutely all out to annihilate one another. There has, throughout history, always been a war somewhere, but now, there’s pretty much a war everywhere, and in less violent, bloody battles, governments wage war on the poor in the interest of ‘the economy’ and fuck over society’s most vulnerable, from the unemployed to the disabled, not to mention the homeless, the wounded, mostly in the interests of capitalism.

Slow Change Will Pull Us Apart packs eight hard-hitting, heavy tracks which rage and rage and rage and hit so hard, in a furious frenzy. The guitars are often busy and brittle and mathy, but the rhythm section is welded together and blast the hardest sonic attack. Slow Change Will Pull Us Apart is the sum of its parts, and that’s a positive here: it brings together the best elements of the contributors and fuses them into something tight, taut, uncomfortable. Single cut ‘Exiting the Vampire Castle’ is exemplary: full-throttle noise rock with dominated by shuddering bass and thunderous drums, with guitars which are both grimy but also reverby clanging over the top, while the vocals and raw and nihilistic. This is some full-on angst: ‘A Sermon in Praise of Corruption’ is a full-on, blistering rager, and there really isn’t much let-up in terms of ferocity. This is an unashamedly political album, as titles such as ‘Slow cancellation of the Future’, ‘The Last Global Slaughter’ and ‘Plunder, Cultivate, Fabricate’ suggest. These are highly political times, so it’s only right that Ex Everything tackle the issues.

There is detail, there are moments where they pull back on the pace and the blunt force, but they’re brief, and serve ultimately to accentuate the immense and intense power of the rest of the album when they put their collective foot hard on the pedal And drive forward hard.

In the face of everything, rational contemplation and collected consideration are difficult. The real urge is to give in to the temptation to simply give up, give in, and to scream at the world to fuck off. Slow Change Will Pull Us Apart comes close, but better than that, it noisily articulates the nihilistic rage which sprays in all directions. There’s no one thing that’s shit or fucked up: it’s everything. And sometimes the only way to deal is to let it all out. Ex Everything do that, channelling every last drop of fury into this bleak and hefty beast of an album.

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Human Worth – 3rd November 2023

Christropher Niasnibor

For all of our astounding advances over the last three millennia, as a species, man is not only a bad animal, but the worst. We have the capacity to achieve truly great things, but instead expend immeasurable amounts of time and effort – and that most ruinous of human constructs, money – on destroying one another and the planet we inhabit. The world is eternally at war, but recently, tensions have escalated to levels which are difficult to comprehend: as the war in Ukraine continues to rage, with almost universal condemnation of Russia, events in the last few weeks in the Middle East have provoked rather different reactions. Division, it seems, begets division, and it seems that the frame has frozen while people bicker over sides, the need to condemn Hamas and to support the mantra that Israel has the right to defend itself.

Perhaps some of this is war-fatigue, perhaps it’s the influence of the media, perhaps some of it’s simply pure shock at the horror of the scale of the bloodshed, but it feels as if the world has paused while all of this plays out with gruesome inevitability. Social media is a minefield, and it feels like any kind of comment could prove inflammatory. But the fact is, political allegiances need to be set aside in the face of the fact that thousands upon thousands of civilians are dying – with women and children disproportionately affected.

The notes which accompany this release set out the situation plainly and directly: there is no need to employ emotive language here, as the stark facts hit far harder.

‘Children in Gaza are living through a nightmare – one that gets more distressing by the hour. So far since the war broke out nearly 4,000 children have been killed – that’s 800 more than yesterday! This horrifying a number surpasses the annual number of children killed in conflict zones since 2019. With a further 1000 children reported missing in Gaza, assumed buried under the rubble, the death toll is likely much higher. All the funds raised through this charity release will be donated to help Save the Children and their network of charities to provide direct lifesaving and mental health support, distribute essential supplies, as well as education facilities and safe spaces for children.’

We know that Human Worth are good guys: the label’s very name is an advertisement for their operating model which involves the donation of a portion of sales proceeds from each release to charity, and they’ve put out a couple of charity compilations already in their relatively brief existence. And while governments sit and watch on, or otherwise give their unreserved backing to Israel, Human Worth have galvanised themselves and their impressive network of artists to pull together a new compilation from which all funds raised will be donated to support Save the Children’s Gaza Emergency Appeal.

This is reason enough to buy it anyway. But this is a stunning release in its own right, featuring twenty-eight tracks from the Human Worth roster and beyond, with a slew of exclusive cuts which make this a quality compilation of music from the noisier end of the spectrum.

It’s got some big hitters, too: Steve Von Till is up first with ‘Indifferent Eyes’ and Enablers are also up early with ‘In McCullin’s Photograph’, and kudos to both the label and the artists for coming together for this.

Sort of supergroup Cower, featuring among others, members of Blacklisters and USA Nails and who released their album BOYS through Human Worth in 2020 offer an exclusive in the shape of the jarring ‘False Flag’, as do Thee Alcoholics with the jolting ‘Catch the Flare’.

Elsewhere, we get representative selections showcasing the best of the label’s recent releases, not least of all ‘Wasted on Purpose’ by Remote Viewing’ and the astringent nine-minute behemoth that is ‘As Shadow Follows Body’ by Torpor from their devastating debut Abscission. Newcastle noisemongers Friend give us eight minutes of carefully-considered transitions and some really quite nice melodies as they build the emerging riff-monster that is ‘Uncle Tommy’. The buzzy, lo-fi gothy synth-punk of The Eurosuite’s exclusive cover of Smashing Pumpkins’ ‘Zero’ is quite a contrast – and sounds like one of Dr Mix and the Remix’s brutal smash-ups – and on the subject of brutal, the sub-two-minute grindcore assault that comes courtesy or FAxFO is utterly furious. HUWWTD’s Late Cormorant Fishing makes for an unexpected standout. Think Shellac with metal vocals and you’re on the way.

Despite the rushed – by necessity – nature off the release, the sequencing shows real consideration as the songs shift between different atmospheres and moods. Human Worth III displays the consistency of quality we’ve come to expect from the label, and the artists’ rapid willingness to contribute speaks volumes about all of them. As a result, Human Worth III is a bloody good album. Go buy it – and pay as much as you can.

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Rare Vitamin Records – 20th October 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

The Battery Farm have had a truly extraordinary twelve months: the Manchester foursome released their debut album last November, and have been gigging hard off the back of it, with some pretty high-profile shows along the way. And this is a band that’s driven – not so much by ambition or aspirations of stardom, but by passion. These guys are purveyors of political, pissed off, authentic punk – not haircuts and threads, but sweaty, full-throttle 110% all the way. Benjamin Corry makes for a powerful presence, vocally, visually, and in the interviews he’s given. He may appear a shade scary and borderline deranged, but comes across as affable, articulate, and genuine.

The band exists to rail against the shitness of the world we find ourselves in, and perhaps buoyed by the reception of the album and recent shows, their twelfth single is more amped-up and fiery than ever. ‘House of Pain’ is three minutes of riff-driven fury that blasts in at a hundred miles an hour with a message that needs to be heard. Arguably, that message could be boiled down to the barest bones of ‘fuck this bullshit’, but the expanded articulation is that it addresses ‘the shame imposed on all of us who are scraping by in an ongoing and worsening cost of greed crisis. You do what you have to to survive, and how dare anyone in a position of privilege look down their nose.’

It needs to be heard because, as I was reading only earlier today online in The Guardian, ‘The number of people experiencing destitution in the UK has more than doubled in the last five years – up from 1.55 million in 2017. One million children are now living in destitute homes – a staggering increase of 186% in half a decade.’ That every single supermarket now has a place to donate to food banks speaks for itself; yet our government, whose job it is to protect society’s most vulnerable, simply dispense advice that if you can’t afford a cheese sandwich, to forgo the cheese, and who seem to think that broadband and mobile phones are luxury items the poor should do without, despite the fact it’s impossible to apply for jobs or even maintain benefits without them. The privately-educated governing elite are in the pockets of the likes of the oil industry, and they absolutely fucking hate the poor, and they want you to hate the poor too. And their hateful campaigning and sloganeering is depressingly effective: how else do you explain working-class people voting Conservative? It’s bewildering to think that people in impoverished towns in the north of England would vote for these cunts who’d happily bulldoze every council estate in the country, that they might think that the likes of Bozo Johnson and Richboi Sunak give even a flake of shit about them, let alone represent them – but the increasingly right-wing Tories appeal to the mentality of the impoverished and disenfranchised by apportioning the blame for the state of everything on ‘illegal’ immigrants, who come over here and sponge all the benefits. Stop the boats! Right. Then what?

The Battery Farm are spot on when they describe the current situation in the UK as a ‘cost of greed’ crisis. Everyone who’s already in the money is making on this: banks, oil and energy companies, supermarkets… any increases in costs are being passed directly to customers, and then some, all to protect profits, all to pass on to shareholders, all to give CEOs even bigger bonuses. The injustice, the social division is at a point where something has to give. Sadly, it seems that something is the lives of those at the bottom of the heap.

The Battery Farm can’t change the world, but they can provide a voice and an outlet to the anger at this injustice, and flipside ‘A Time of Peace’ is another full-throttle gritty blast of punk fury, reminiscent of the sound of ‘79/’80 – I’m thinking grimy roar of The Anti-Nowhere League and fellow Mancunians Slaughter and the Dogs by way of references here.

At the time of writing this, four days after release (I’ve been slack / drowning in dealing with everyday life stuff (delete as appropriate); physical copies on 7”, CD, and cassette have sold out, which is a huge achievement and shows just how they’ve built a committed following through a combination of belting tunes and sheer hard slog. This is their strongest work to date.

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Blaggers Records – 19th October 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

True revolution will come when the workers own the means of production. This is something that’s emerged in music not through an uprising, but a thoroughly screwed-up state of affairs, but one that’s very much a result of a capital-driven model. Major labels, and a fair few indies, don’t exist for the artists: they exist for themselves, for their execs, for the machine, the mechanism which enables them to gouge maximum profit for themselves, the shareholders, the middlemen, hell, anyone in the chain. And, depressingly it looks like even Bandcamp could be going this way before long. Capitalism doesn’t give a shit about art: it cares only about money, and art is simply another commodity, provided it’s got mass appeal. And who generates the profit? The artist, of course. The model is the same in any capitalist structure: without call centre and admin staff, multinational corporations would simply have no business: even banks need staff to manage the money being poured into them (although retail customers get the least service because they may be many, but they’re just your average pleb on the street, so fuck them and their wanting local branches and stuff that eat into the profit margins). But the staff who essentially generate the wealth are at the bottom of the pile with the worst pay and the worst conditions.

Sure, some artists get rich, but how many Coldplays and Ed Sheerans are there in the scheme of things? And there has been a shift since the turn of the millennium. Massive advances – or any advance at all in many cases – are a thing of the past. But labels have always been behind the time, and the concept of A&R is a longstanding joke in that labels aren’t interested in finding the next movement as riding on the coattails of whatever’s breaking in order to milk it.

This latest offering from Kill, The Icon! marks something of a stylistic shift, at least superficially: less aggro and overtly confrontational, it’s also less guitar-orientated, built around a simple and unchanging synth loop. Nagging, earwormy, irritating… the repetition does become somewhat numbing after a while, but by the end off its three-and-a-half minute duration, you start to consider playing it again anyway.

Talking to me about the single, Nishant admitted ‘It’s really different and I expect will be polarizing in terms of content.’ He’s right on both counts, in that it’s not only a departure, but also likely to alienate a few fans and critics. But this is to the good: as I’ve written before, and will likely do so again in the future, you can’t please all of the people all of the time, and nor should you aim to do so. If you do, you’re Oasis or Ed Shearan. Punk is an attitude, not a style per se, punk is creating the music and art you believe in and not giving a fuck about the reception. Kill, The Icon! are punk, and this stylistic detour doesn’t see them budge an inch in their message or tame their fury for a second. Yes, true to their credo, Kill, The Icon are calling out institutional racism and general bullshit in society, and here, specifically, the music industry:

Average White Band / For the average white fan / Making average white music for the average white man

Joshi explains: “Mumford and Sons were the archetypal Average White Band. They had the son of a near-billionaire in their midst. And they made a career out of denying their privilege. They were bankrolled from the very start, and so they had a precious resource that’s not afforded to other bands: time. Most artists are told to play more shows, work harder, network harder. But that’s a huge lie that’s perpetuated by the music industry… Everyone involved in the music industry assures us that diversity, inclusion and equality are priorities – it’s written as much on the website of every festival, booking agent, manager, and record label. But the reality is an utter lie. We’re not all running the same race.”

One benefit of being a truly independent act is that the artistic control is not only retained by the artist, so is the scheduling. That means the pokes in ‘Average White Band’ are still contemporary, as Joshi calls it out:

“Once a band has been elevated, It’s fair to ask what they do with their new-found power: are they maintaining the status quo, or are they actively seeking change to make the music industry more equitable? The reality is that the music industry has been fantastic at improving diversity in indie music, but only to the extent that it champions female-led bands who approximate western beauty standards.”

Sitting on your chaise longue / Writing all your new songs / About cliches of cliches of cliches of cliches

It’s not a matter of sour grapes here: there’s no way Kill, The Icon! are jealous, or would want to be in the position of Wet Leg. But given the same elevated platform, Kill, The Icon! would be telling it like it is and making sure their message had maximum reach. But political bands don’t tend to get maximum reach, especially when they’re from minority backgrounds. Benefits are perhaps the most ‘real’ band with a broader reach right now – Sleaford Mods are simply too obvious are more about commentary than promoting change – but while they’re white, they’re too working class to be embraced beyond a certain demographic. In keeping it real, they’re not likely to get much radio airplay – or earn huge radio royalties – any time soon.

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Human Worth – 13th October 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

From the moment Modern Technology blasted in with their eponymous debut EP, simultaneously launching the Human Worth label, it was clear that they were special. The duo made the most fucking incredible, low-slung, dense mean-ass noise going. The lyrics were social, political, and sharp, paired down to stark one-line declarations dissecting with absolute precision the fucked-up situation in which we find ourselves. And with a percentage of proceeds of every Human Worth release going to charity, they’ve put their money where their mouth is. It’s not done in some crass, virtue-signalling way: this is their model, and they just get on and do it. And through Human Worth they’ve released some – no, many – absolutely incredible records, rapidly establishing HW as purveyors of quality product with a keen ear for quality noise. In an increasingly fragmented and challenging musical market, the trick for any label is to find a niche and excel within it. And that’s precisely what these guys have done.

And all the while, as a band, Modern Technology just get better and better. Any concerns that they had said all they had to say following the EP and debut album Service Provider (as if there ever were any!) are allayed with the arrival of Conditions of Worth.

Lead single ‘Dead Air’ opens it up with dense, grinding anguish. Chris Clarke’s bass and vocals seem to have got heavier. Then again, so does Owen Gildersleeve’s drumming. But it’s more than just brutal abrasion. In the mid-track breakdown, things go clean and the tension in that picked bass note is enough to spasm the muscles and clench the brain. It’s brutal start to a brutal album.

‘Lurid Machines’ begins in a squall of feedback and wracked, anguished vocals, and it’s harrowing, the sound of pain. The lyrics are comparatively abstract, and all the more powerful for it. Written out in all block caps, they’re in your face but wide open to interpretation and elicit the conjuring of mental images:

WHY ARE THEY SO ALONE?

THE LIES THEY ALL SHARE

LET GO

INSIDE NOTHING GLOWS

BENEATH A SHADOWED PHONE

The drums and bass crawl in and grind out a low, slow dirge, Clarke’s vocals are down in the mix and you feel yourself being dragged into a chasm of darkness.

These are harrowing times, and if the pandemic seemed like a living nightmare, it seems it was only the preface. The ‘new normal’ is not the utopia some commentators suggested it may be. For a moment, it looked as though we would achieve the golden goal of the work/life balance, that we may abandon the commute and save hours a week for ourselves and slash our carbon emissions in the process. But no. Fuck that. Get back to the office, tough shit that fuel prices are rocketing and bollocks to the anxiety you developed in lockdown and bollocks to the environment because power trumps everything. Government power, corporate power, media power… we are all fucked and have no hope of breaking this. And this is the backdrop to Conditions of Worth.

They pick up the pace and start ‘Salvation’ with an uncharacteristically uptempo stoner rock vibe, but around the midpoint they flip things, slowing the pace and opening up towering cathedrals of sound as a backdrop to painting a stark depiction of life on earth.

WIDESPREAD

FAMINE

WIDESPREAD

CONFLICT

WIDESPREAD

PANIC

WIDESPREAD

SHADOW

The song ends with just a spare, fragile but earthy bass that calls to mind Neurosis and Kowloon walled City. It’s this loamy, organic texture which defines the altogether more minimal ‘The Space Between’, the first of the album’s two longer pieces, with the second being the ten-minute title track. It’s here that their evolution is perhaps most evident, as they stretch the parameters of their compositions to forge such megalithic works and really push the limits of their two-piece arrangement. In contrast, there’s the super-concise ‘Fully Detached’, , and the last track, ‘ Believieer’, which are absolute hardcore ragers, clocking in with short running times, the former just making a minute and fourteen seconds. And the variety on display here only adds to the album’s impact. While each track hits hard, the overall impact is obliterating.

They crank up the volume and the shades of distortion in the explosive choruses of ‘Lane Control’ – because you can never have too many effects when it comes to bass played like guitar and blasting screaming noise to articulate feelings, and as for the title track… it’s an absolute beast, with heavy hints of latter-day Killing Joke in the mix as they flay mercilessly at a pulverising riff. The noise builds and the vocals sink beneath it all and you’re left feeling dazed.

But more than that, there’s something about the production on Conditions of Worth that’s deeply affecting. There’s a skull-crushing sonic density, but also simultaneously, remarkable separation and sonic clarity. These elements only make it his harder.

Conditions of Worth is more than just heavy. It leaves you feeling hollowed out, drained, weak. This is life, and this album is the perfect articulation.

AA

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