Imagine Godflesh and Helmet collided in the early ’90’s (Streetcleaner meets Menatime) and recorded the greatest Noise Metal record evah then subsequently forgot about it. Until now. In our minds, that’s kind of an apt round up of what you’ll hear when you dive into the debut from Oklahoma City’s Chat Pile who not only throw back, but also throw forward and, unavoidably throw down on God’s Country.
“Slaughterhouse” is a moment. Heavy on the bass, heavy on the grooves, heavy on the everything, the track just exudes cool and brings forth a mighty ruckus as Raygun Busch vocally paces to and fro with a spoken word style that’s a little like Henry Rollins meets Goes Cube’s David Obuchowski.
And from there, it just gets gnarlier.
“Why” is nasty, with a sinister wall of sound propelled at listeners’ earholes as Busch delivers a Shellac-like vocal performance angrily discussing the homelessness epidemic while “Pamela”, in contrast from the rest of God’s Country, is kind of a shining light with some Post-Rawk posturing that’s akin to early Killing Joke but delivered with the kind of bombast that the legendary UK outfit bring today.
“Wicked Puppet Dance” really encapsulates that Helmet/Godflesh vibe with throbbing swells of noise from Luther Manhole and Stin’s respective guitar and bass playing with Captain Ron laying out a percussive pummeling that’s on par with the live beatings Bill Rieflin used to deliver with Ministry back in the day as Busch rallies and rages on the mic. “Anywhere” lets Stin drive a heavy bass eeriness forward as Manhole accents with guitars that are both haunting and harmonious until “Tropical Beaches, Inc.” dives back into the deep end without looking for a solid almost four minutes of unrelenting sonic savagery.
“The Mask” continues the carnage on a ditty that’s both diabolical and dire with Busch sounding a little more crazed than we’re used to thus far followed by “I Don’t Care If I Burn” which is an experimental noise treatment thriving on Busch’s sustained intensity that bleeds into the masterclass of underground ’90’s Alternative Noise Rawk called “grimace_Smoking_Weed.jpeg”. Like Unsane meets Girls Against Boys, the closing number on this manic and maniacal debut is a riveting trip that goes on for a harrowing 9 minutes before collapsing in this heaping pile of nerves like the end of really productive therapy session. Sans the tears. Maybe.
God’s Country arrives on July 29th through The Flenser. Pre-orders are available now and can be checked out by clicking here or here and for the latest on Chat Pile, follow them across their socials by heading here, here, or here.
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