Wanna Hear Me Out About Thought Industry?
Sometimes I hear the words of Sergeant D ringing through my mind. There’s this wire that triggers a reverby recording of his voice booming in my brain, and it can be tripped by the slightest movement: The overheard pleas of a whiteknight wimp, a humorless IMN’s slavish intellectualization of personal taste, the attempts of srsbros to disown their smiley past, the sighting of a Crazytown fan … Let’s just say I would wear out the internet if I alerted D to every occasion that his words come to life before my eyes. lol
But not every D-ism is my source of private laughs. One that brings a furrow to my brow is his observation about bands that are too advanced, too “ahead of the curve” for their own good. These bands arrive a decade or two too soon — or in the internet age, a month or two too soon lol — so their cool music sinks like a stone in the ocean. It’s fucked up, cuz each fresh current polishes their increasingly shiny “stone” but down in the depths, it can hardly be found.
So may I present to you a band that you may’ve slept on? Great! Let’s check out Thought Industry.
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My sense is that a chorus of mass fapping would forever follow Thought Industry — had they enjoyed the cooperation of cosmic timing. Their debut Songs For Insects arrived on Metal Blade the same year as Dream Theater’s breakthrough album for Atco, the latter a comparatively ear-friendly set of heavy prog positivity. Way rawer than Images And Words, S4I played like a longer Atheist record for the scarf-and-hardcover crowd, with slightly deeper socio-political commentary, references to scarier drugz, and a pronounced disregard for sonic standards of 1992. (More on that later.) My bud Brian took a shot on each album; we were impressed by the architecture of I&W, and devastated by the brooding mania and art-metal bravado that’s tangible from S4I‘s opening moments (above). U jam?
Even in 2013 I know little about TI’s intra-band dynamics, but it seems that it was drummer Dustin Donaldson who helped to package the band’s challenging music in pretentious argle-bargle. Donaldson’s aesthetic choices weren’t limited to adorning the covers of TI’s two masterpieces with paintings by Salvador Dali (which communicated less the band’s vibe and more his commitment to subjective imagery), designing S4I‘s noisy liner notes (the letter “o” is always capitalized), nor posing like a blind urologist in its band photo (invisible birdfeed?). Nope, his aggressive fartsiness penetrated the TI sound via a drum-heavy mix and … just tons of drumming. He predicted the all-pervasive noodling of Protest The Hero-era tech-metal guitars with stickwork that filled every nook with bells, clacks, and clangs. Chalk that up to the confrontationalism of youthful metal guys — cuz when S4I settles into one vibe, his simple beats are awesome! I love his pulse. Check out “Cornerstone”: Donaldson powers up one engine then another, then propels the jam’s blimp-sized heft to a nimble take-off. U are jamming!
If ever I suffer brain damage and can retain only one string of info, it will be the first 28 or so bars of “Cornerstone.” What I will surely forget, however, is S4I‘s production. It is mercilessly redundant to TI’s content — ie. obscurity presented obscurely — and it works against a set of songs that already court disapproval. I’d love to time-machine back to the band’s first meetings with Metal Blade to beg chief Brian Slagel to pair ambitious, inexperienced TI with a liberal but strict producer, one who would demand great vocal takes, slicker bass tone, and more imposing guitars. Alas, Skinny Puppy producer David Oglivie’s oversight led to sonics that conjure an MI class experiment in hard pans and dusty compressors. It has the warmth and depth of an abandoned stretch of railroad, so put S4I with Realm’s Suiciety in the pile of “Awesome Albums To Remix The Shit Out Of.” I wonder if Terry Date would do it on spec. lol
Taken minute-by-minute and as a whole, Songs For Insects is hard to forget — supernaturally so for its masterful finale. To follow its centerpiece (“The Chalice Vermillion,” above), TI assembles a conclusive mini-run that launches with a second, even harder-raging screed against oppressive Americanism (“The Flesh Is Weak” holy shitballs). But then S4I glides to a soft landing with two lilting epics of resignation, each restating the final message of “Flesh,” each alternating electric and acoustic vibes, each upshifting to the pace of a romp, and each spanning eight minutes. It’s cool and prescient: In 1992, no metal band was doing whimsy or penny-opera chants — no Devin, no BTBAM, no DEP with Patton. (Mr. Bungle’s debut album had jumped out six months before the release of S4I.) The Thought Industry guys send us off with a note of fatalistic dismissal, like a jester who’s finished his jig and waves off the weight of his tale — and the threat of imminent beheading. This version of TI would return with an awesomer sophomore record, one whose sound is both bigger and more claustrophobic, whose insights are more personal and less universal, and whose movements are even more intoxicating than their first go.
To be continued! Thanks for reading :)
