Posts Tagged ‘Thou’

Magnetic Eye Records – 28th November 2028

Christopher Nosnibor

Magnetic Eye Records’ ‘redux’ series continues with another inspired choice in the form on Nine Inch Nails’ seminal release The Downward Spiral. The premise of the series is fairly straightforward – namely that a bunch of artists contribute versions of songs from a significant album to create a tribute rendition of said album from beginning to end. And then each release is accompanied by a ‘best of’ collection of covers of songs by the same band, where the contributors pick favourites ranging from greatest hits to obscure tracks lifted from the deeper territories of the catalogue. What’s impressive is that while many of the contributors to these releases tend to be relatively obscure, the standard of the interpretations tends to be high, which is testament to the curatorial skills of the guys at MER.

As a teen in the late 80s / early 90s, I was by no means alone in feeling like this was an exciting time for music, at a time of life when music comes to mean everything. Here in the UK, Pretty Hate Machine had created some minor ripples, and it was clear from ‘Head Like a Hole’ that Nine Inch Nails had something, even if that something did sound a bit like a harder-edged Depeche Mode. Landing just after my seventeenth birthday, The Broken EP was the most devastatingly brutal shock I had ever encountered. The thing is, it wasn’t metal – a lot of it wasn’t even guitars. And then, while the world was still recovering from that, Reznor delivered The Downward Spiral. It was – and in many ways, remains – the most fully realised, most expansive articulation of not only Nine Inch Nails, but of the human condition, in all its twisted, ugly complexity. It had everything, including vast emotional range.

The Downward Spiral landed at the perfect time for me, and as such, it’s an album I have a strong affection for now. Listening to this tribute version, it’s clear that the same is true of the artists who’ve contributed to it. That doesn’t mean that they’ve all delivered carbon-copy covers, and in many ways, it’s all the better for it. Kicking off the album, Black Tusk’s raging hardcore / thrash metal attack on ‘Mr Self Destruct’ is illustrative, in that it captures the nihilistic brutality of the original, and while it’s faithful to the structure, it’s very much about them channelling the raw emotion of the song in a way that they feel.

Grin’s take on ‘Heresy’ is dense and murky, dominated by a thick bass, and it’s solid. The chorus may not explode in a wall of rampant treble noise in the way the original does, but nothing could, so the fact they don’t even attempt to replicate it was a wise move. ‘March of the Pigs’ was one of the wildest single choices for a major-label release, and Sandrider’s version captures the song’s mania, while Daevar’s crawling sludge take on ‘Closer’ may lack the sleazoid groove of the original, but with the harmonic female vocals pitched against a wall of churning guitars, it’s still enough to bring on a bit of a sweat.

Author & Punisher – one of only a few of the acts I was familiar with in advance – present a stark, snarling rendition of ‘Reptile’. It’s an anguish-laden electro-industrial grind which captures the claustrophobic intensity of the original nicely, and credit to Between the Buried and Me for bringing more dark electronics and atmosphere to their rendition of ‘Hurt’ which is otherwise a pretty straight take – but what else is there to do? You can’t mess with perfection, and nor should you. The execution of the chorus is perhaps a bit emo, but it’s one of those songs that just hits so hard as long as you don’t try anything too radical. I don’t suppose Trent loses much sleep over the fact that the majority of people don’t even know that the Johnny Cash version was actually a cover.

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The counterpart Best of set packs quality from beginning to end, too, with notable names including Thou and Evi Vine. The latter’s choice is interesting, being ‘This Isn’t The Place’, culled from the 2017 EP Add Violence, and it’s dark and atmospheric, woozy and somewhat unsettling, making for a perfect homage and well-placed reminder that as much as NIN are a ‘songs’ band, their catalogue is bursting with cinematic, atmospheric instrumental works. And this is where this ‘best of’ set comes into its own: while there are, almost by necessity, takes on ‘Head Like a Hole’ (here presented as a stark, rolling, post-metal piece by Blue Heron) and ‘Terrible Lie’ (Orbiter actually taking it poppier in a 90s alt-rock way), there’s a leaning towards post-Downward Spiral material, from ‘Every Day is Exactly the Same’ (a song I really felt in my early years of corporate drudge) by Chrome Ghost and ‘The Perfect Drug’ (a song that felt a bit flimsy to my ears at the time but one I’ve grown to appreciate) by Nonexistent Night. Bees Made Honey in the Vein Tree tackle ‘Over and Out’ from Bad Witch… Then there’s Thou’s savage version of ‘Suck’… woah.

What this showcases is not just how Nine Inch Nails have broken so much ground over the course of their career, and how significant a band they are for so many, but also how they have evolved over their time in existence. Trent Reznor is an artist who has often been imitated, but rarely matched, in terms of songwriting or production, switching his angle every time other show signs of catching up. The esteem in which he is held by fans and other artists is entirely justified.

Taken together, these two releases go a long way to reflect and represent just why Nine Inch Nails ae so revered. Credit is, of course, due to every contributor on both of these albums, and to the label for its curatorial work – but ultimately, it all serves as a reminder of just how essential Nine Inch Nails have been in the evolution of music over the last thirty-five years and more. This makes for a timely and fitting tribute to a truly pivotal band.

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For the second single from the companion album Best of Nine Inch Nails Redux that will be released parallel to the forthcoming MER Redux Series instalment The Downward Spiral Redux, sludge metal outfit THOU from Baton Rouge, Louisiana pay an ultra-heavy tribute with their cover of the NIN track ‘Suck’.

THOU comment by quoting Emil Cioran: “True confessions are written with tears only”, vocalist Bryan Funck cites an adage of the Romanian philosopher from 1934: “But my tears would drown the world, as my inner fire would reduce it to ashes.”

Parallel to the companion album Best of Nine Inch Nails Redux, Magnetic Eye Records will release The Downward Spiral Redux that contains 14 cover renditions of the original album tracks in sequence, recorded by some of the most compelling artists in hard and heavy music today.

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Sacred Bones – 31st May 2024

Christopher Nosnibor

‘This record is for the radicals, the crackpots, the exiles who have escaped the wasteland of capitulation. This record is for the militants and zealots refusing to surrender to comforts, to practicalities, to thirty pieces of silver. And this record is most especially for the weaklings and malingerers, burdened by capricious indulgence, hunched by the deep wounds of compromise, shuffling in limp approximation, desperately reaching back towards integrity and conviction.’

So Thou sell us their latest album, their first since Magus in 2018. And in this way they prepare us for a release which has no easy or comfortable positioning other than in the realms of outsiderdom. It was, of course, ever thus, their bio reminding us that ‘Thou transcends genre boundaries, drawing inspiration from a diverse array of influences spanning from ’90s proto-grunge icons like Nirvana, Alice in Chains, and Soundgarden (all of whom they’ve covered extensively) to the raw intensity of obscure ‘90s DIY hardcore punk found on labels like Ebullition, Vermiform, and Crimethinc.’

Coming into my mid-to-late teens in the early 90s, it’s hard to overstate the impact and importance of the advent of grunge, the breaking through of Nirvana, Alice in Chains, Soundgarden (who I wasn’t personally a fan of, but even at the time recognised their merits); this was a new wave of music which really spoke for us at that time, articulating the rage and disaffection. Put simply, grunge was our punk.

Times have changed, but by no means for the better: now, there is even more reason to be incendiary with nihilistic rage. And with Umbilical, Thou give voice to that rage. To say that they articulate it would be a stretch: the lyrics are completely unintelligible, a guttural howl spat with venom from the very pits of hell.

The titles are reflective of our times: ‘Narcissist’s Prayer’; ‘Emotional Terrorist’, ‘I Return and Chained and Bound to You’, ‘Panic Stricken, I Flee’ – these are all summaries of varying traumas, of deep psychological challenges. We’ve seemingly got better about discussing these things, bringing trauma out into the open and breaking down the walls of taboo, and in the process it’s become apparent that nearly everyone has suffered some trauma, but worse than that, the sheer extent to which Narcissism and abuse is rife is now beginning to emerge.

The guitars on ‘Lonely Vigil’; billow in blasts of nuclear detonation, the sound of sheer annihilation as the overloading wall of distortion decimates all before it. And then things step up even further with ‘House of Ideas’. Wails of feedback trace desolate trails amidst a landslide of the heaviest, most shredding deluge of sludge, and it feels like the idea that sits first and foremost is total destruction. Given the track record of major corporations and governments around the globe, this would seem a fair summary. Over the course of six-anfdf0three-quarter minutes, it scales heights of elevation paired with the deepest of trudging riffery.

‘I Feel Nothing When You Cry’, released as a single not so long ago, is the pinnacle of brutal nihilism, and ‘Unbidden Guest’, which follows immediately after plunges still deeper into the abyss. It’s a torturous experience that drags the listener to hell by the hair, and simply drops them there. ‘The Promise’ arrives as a surprise: a straight-up, no messing grunge metal stomper.

On Umbilical, Thou bring the riffs alright. By which I mean it’s fucking brutal. It’s not heavy: it’s hellish. It’s the sound of raw anguish, of unfiltered pain, and simultaneously an outpouring, a ceaseless spewing of untrammelled emotional tumult. There’s a purity to it which is powerful beyond words.

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Today, Thou share ‘Unbidden Guest’ from their upcoming album, Umbilical.

About the track, Bryan Funck comments, “Physical deterioration by way of psychological disarray. Retreading a well-worn path of self grievance. Othering mental illness and learned behaviour in order to crush them under the dominance of epistemic willpower. ‘The last time you cried, who’d you think was inside?’”

Listen to ‘Unbidden Guest’ here:

Thou has always been a force of raw energy and unapologetic dissent, defying easy categorisation and challenging listeners to confront the complexities of existence. Their forthcoming album, Umbilical, is their firmest nod to the raw intensity of obscure ’90s DIY hardcore punk. It’s a record filled with mosh-ready riffs, heavy breakdowns and scathing vocals. The band’s aesthetic and political impulses have always been punk and like anyone embroiled in the subculture Thou have been exploring what it means to exist within and without a rigid morality. That exploration takes thematic centre on Umbilical and their self-assessment is as harsh as that of the world around them.

Thou

Photo credit: Liam Neighbors

"They’ve called us anarchists, criminals, foreign meddlers, lunatics, dispossessed, relativists, utilitarians, egoists, passion maximizers, ascetics, negators of everything. Clearly, the "Thou" experiment is never going to appeal to audiences who demand that art rigorously enforce a coherent and righteous worldview.
And yet, are we not ourselves constrained by our own rigid morality? In those quiet moments of deep contemplation, when the bargains and concessions are thoroughly examined, when we yield before the Judging Eye–what is the summation of our choices? If the unspoiled self beyond the immensity of time were given voice, what pronouncements would be made? What would such an internal audit yield? What undeniable character would be revealed?

This record is for the radicals, the crackpots, the exiles who have escaped the wasteland of capitulation. This record is for the militants and zealots refusing to surrender to comforts, to practicalities, to thirty pieces of silver. And this record is most especially for the weaklings and malingerers, burdened by capricious indulgence, hunched by the deep wounds of compromise, shuffling in limp approximation, desperately reaching back towards integrity and conviction." – Thou

Thou has always been a force of raw energy and unapologetic dissent, defying easy categorisation and challenging listeners to confront the complexities of existence. Their forthcoming album, Umbilical, is their firmest nod to the raw intensity of obscure ’90s DIY hardcore punk. It’s a record filled with mosh-ready riffs, heavy breakdowns and scathing vocals. The band’s aesthetic and political impulses have always been punk and like anyone embroiled in the subculture Thou have been exploring what it means to exist within and without a rigid morality. That exploration takes thematic centre on Umbilical and their self-assessment is as harsh as that of the world around them.

Today Thou share their seething lead single and album centrepiece, “I Feel Nothing When You Cry” of which the band tell is “A throwaway mantra scraped from the necrotic skin of syndicated television. A lugubrious nod to our favourite commode-crooning diva, one of her most diabolically terse lines. With the sweet, sultry whispers of a legendary New Orleans faerie. This might be as close as we’ll get to a positive, youth crew anthem. ‘This song has nothing original or of value. It’s a steady beat for dancing feet. You got what you wanted, now say the words…’”

Listen to “I Feel Nothing When You Cry” here:

Thou Live Dates:

Apr 13: New Orleans, LA – Palestine Benefit at Fred Hampton Free Store
May 04: Providence, RI – AS220
Jul 28: New Orleans, LA – The Broadside (w/ The Body + Dis Fig and Nail Club)
Sep 13-15: Richmond, VA – Persistent Vision Fest
Aug 14: The Zoo – Brisbane, AU *
Aug 15: Mary’s Underground – Sydney, AU *
Aug 16: The Baso – Canberra, AU *
Aug 17: Stay Gold – Melbourne, AU *
Aug 18: Crown & Anchor – Adelaide, AU *
Aug 23: Rolling Stone – Christchurch, NZ *
Aug 24: Meow – Wellington, NZ *
Aug 25: Galatos – Auckland, NZ *

* w/ Full of Hell

Thou - Umbilical

Magnetic Eye

Christopher Nosnibor

While reviewing Hymn’s new album, Breach Us for Whisperin’ and Hollerin’, I found myself undertaking a massive detour: having decided that for a few brief bars, Ole Rokseth’s vocals bore some resemblance to Layne Staley’s, and unsure of the spelling of Staley, fatally turned to Google, after which I squandered little short of three hours reading biographical details of the late singer.

And lo, lurking in my inbox was Khemmis’ cover of Alice in Chains’ ‘Down in a Hole’, the first track to be aired from the Dirt (Redux) album forthcoming on Magnetic Eye Records via their ‘Redux’ series (which has previously reimaged albums by Pink Floyd, Hendrix, and Helmet -although the title is a little misleading. There’s no real restoration involved here: this is a covers album, where a different band tackles each track to reconstruct the album not through remixes, but rerecordings.

I’m shamefully ignorant of most of the artists on here, although Thou are clearly a strong opening act, covering ‘Them Bones’, and label regulars These Beasts and Forming the Void also appear.

Anyway: Khemmis express that they were keen to ‘stay true to parts of the song, particularly the chorus, but that we also needed to make it our own.’ Sidestepping the TV karaoke cliché where every week the judges commend the contestants for making a well-known song their ‘own’, Khemmis have actually fulfilled their ambition by bringing layers of atmosphere and expansive guitar harmonics to the verses while retaining the integrity of the choruses. And while there are guitar flourishes aplenty, it’s apparent that this cover is born out of a genuine appreciation of the original.

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Closing out a long year spent on the road, singer/songwriter Emma Ruth Rundle has revealed her final music video to accompany her 2018 album On Dark Horses. Directed by Mitch Wells (Thou) and starring the song’s muse and inspiration, Blake Armstrong, the video for ‘You Don’t Have to Cry’ is poignant and affecting and further solidifies Rundle’s place as one of music’s most dextrous minds.

Watch the video here:

Christopher Nosnibor

And yet again, after a soaking on my way to see Interpol in Leeds a fortnight ago, the heavens open to deliver a truly tropical downpour, a torrent of fair biblical proportions in stepping out of the station. It’s way to wet to have my phone out to sat-nav to the pub I’ve arranged to meet a mate in, so I take hasty refuge in The Scarboro Hotel.

It’s not hyperbole or dramatic scaremongering to say that this is climate change in effect. It’s been stiflingly hot, we’ve experienced high winds – which is why I left my umbrella at home: Poundland brollies and strong gusts don’t go together – and light showers and some flash downpours. But this precipitation isn’t so much a cloudfall as a monsoon, and as frustrating and mood-despoiling the soaking is, the bigger picture is that this is a sign of things to come. JG Ballard’s 1962 post-apocalyptic sci-fi novel The Drowned World is rapidly looking like future reportage rather than speculation.

It’s a good thing I’m heading to Temple of Boom in my drenched state. Live music invariably proves itself to be a mod-lifter, or at least the best conduit to a window of escapism, and never more than a night of full-throttle metal. It’s a genre I’ve come to appreciate almost exponentially over the last decade after spending years completely disinterested and dismissive. The irony that I considered metal somehow juvenile and primitive isn’t lost as I realise I’ve grown to grasp the sheer diversity of the – infinitely fragmented – genre, as well as the benefits of untrammelled catharsis as a form of therapy.

The tip I’d had ahead of the show suggested Vonnis were pedlars of fairly standard grindy thrash, and musically, this is fundamentally true. It’s all in the delivery, and I’m wondering a day on if their front-man’s antics were the result of drunkenness, insanity, or a combination of the two. Their Facebook bio records a history of ‘dislocated shoulders or open leg fractures’ and a ‘disregard for any kind of personal safety’, and they deliver on that. Tonight’s set found this guy piling up (and falling off) monitors, stumbling wildly, stripping from his boiler suit to socks and boxers and ending the set on the flor in front of the stage with his head in a bin. The whole thing was demented, and was a real horrorshow car-crash of a performance – but it was utterly compelling.

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Vonnis

Bismuth are compelling for all the right reasons, bashing out some monumental noise with drums and bass. By which I mean BASS. Arsequaking bass. Head-shredding bass. Immense bass drones that sound like Sunn O))) and Earth circa Earth 2. Simultaneously. Bass channelled through a pedal board the size of a cruise liner to the point it no longer sounds like bass. An age separates the trike of every chord, every explosive, punishing beat. Bismuth grind it out, low, slow and heavy, but with the full frequency spectrum: bass that sounds like a full band lineup with everything up to eleven, or even twelve.

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Bismuth

Tanya Byrne’s vocals range from a delicate and emotionally-charged melodic to full-blooded howl of pain: it’s all integral to Bismuth’s sound and intensity, and the set concludes with Tanya out in the audience, on her knees, shrieking and howling into a wall of feedback. It feels like the purest catharsis, and the entire room is on edge and close to breaking to bring down a devastating finish.

Whereas Bismuth’s sound is textured, detailed, and atmospheric, Moloch go all out for blunt force trauma. Lumbering riffage provides the backdrop to rasping guttural anguish. There’s something about the vocals, which register in the higher regions, and the way they contrast with the shuddering downtuned sludgefest. There’s also the complete lack of pretence or even any real kind of show involved.

“Hiya, we’re Moloch,” says Chris Braddock as he takes the mic. Cue a wail of feedback before everything crashes in and continues to grind away at a gut-churning crawl for the next forty punishing minutes.

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Moloch

With three guitars dominating the six-piece’s instrumentation, Thou have texture and density completely covered. And despite the fact they’ve been going some fourteen years with only two changes to the lineup, they still appear remarkably youthful. The ever-informative Encyclopaedia Metallum locates them in the bracket of ‘Sludge/Drone/Doom Metal’ and lists their lyrical themes as ‘Despair, Revolution, Societal collapse, Death.’ This does nothing to convey the intensity of their albums or the kind of performance they deliver – or, moreover, the nonchalance with which Bryan Funck – wild-eyed and grey-bearded – delivers his velociraptor vocal scream.

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Thou

It should be harrowing, hellish, but is precisely the opposite. To witness a band so finely-honed, channelling everything into a powerful and relentless piledriving assault is a beautiful and uplifting thing: elating, life-affirming. As they thunder through an immaculate set, I find I’m no longer in the room and everyone else has melted away. There is nothing but this moment, in which I find my mind is empty and I am floating, detached, wired into the music alone. Time stops and the sound becomes everything.

Sacred Bones Records – 31st August 2018

Christopher Nosnibor

Magus is Thou’s first full-length since 2014’s Heathen. It’s perhaps fair to say that the three EPs which preceded it – which they forewarned would be ‘a complete sonic departure from Magus and from each other’ – which effectively constituted albums in their own right – did nothing to prepare us for this.

But what exactly is this? As the album’s press blurb acknowledges, they’re ‘often lumped in with New Orleans sludge bands like Eyehategod and Crowbar, [but share] shares a more spiritual kinship with ‘90s proto-grunge bands like Nirvana, Alice in Chains, and Soundgarden’, while ‘the band’s aesthetic and political impulses reflect the obscure ’90s DIY hardcore punk found on labels like Ebullition, Vermiform, and Crimethinc’. All this makes them hard to place.

The album’s opener, ‘Inward’, provides just over ten full minutes of snarling fury that carries enough weight to crush weaker souls who may venture forth expecting any of the soft musicality of the Inconsolable EP (which revealed Thou to be capable of extreme gentility, and, indeed, extreme beauty).

Things turn very black and very sludgy and very heavy on ‘Transcending Dualities’; and while it’s a snarling, low-tuned mess of slow-creeping sludge, there are stray notes that break free to squeal to break the trudging oppression. Bryan Funck’s twisted vocals draw every ounce of excruciation into the mix.

‘The Changeling Prince’ brings grace and grandeur to proceedings, and the hushed intro and expansive sound of ‘Sovereign Self’ (the second of three songs to cross the ten-minute mark) calls to mind Amenra, but his is a whole other level of gnarly, demonic savagery, and the overall sonic density is suffocating.

But Magus does find Thou continue to expand and explore in all directions, and there are three shorter tracks that serve as interludes between the towering monoliths which are the songs themselves: the cacophonous racket of ‘My Brother Caliban’ contrasts sharply with ‘Divine Will’, with its ethereal female vocals and pounding tribal drums. Elsewhere, the sprawling epic that is ‘In the Kingdom of Meaning’ introduces a psychedelic twist to the doomy trudge. And there are passages of extreme delicacy, rich in evocative atmosphere, which draw the lister into quiet clearings with dappled light where an air of calm radiates before the shadows loom, the clouds gather and the next tempestuous storm breaks. Such tension-building passages and contrasts of mood and volume create a compelling dynamic and makes Magus a mighty album which requires attention and exploration of the detail.

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