Review: Chat Pile Diversifies Their Aural Anguish with Cool World
Though certainly noise rock and sludge in the broad sense, Chat Pile packs its vein of caustic loudness with emotional complexity to match some vicious riffage. Raygun Busch’s voice quickly becomes the show stopper, ranging from crescendos of manic spoken word to explosions of unbridled rage. This combination of hyper-emotive talk music and detuned heaviness made God’s Country a riveting affair, but its secret weapon becomes its dynamic range. It’s like listening to Tom Waits do to sludge what he did to blues and folk, upping the creep factor in weird atmospheres and harsh textures. While this unhinged quality continues onto their latest album Cool World, Chat Pile flexes more of their songwriting chops within their mental spiraling.
For instance, the luminous fade-in at the start of the opener “I Am Dog Now” might trick listeners into thinking a post-rock album is starting, but Chat Pile is not the meditator. Guitarist Luther Manhole and bassist Stin write blunt, simple, and violent riffs, surprisingly moshable for a band on The Flenser’s roster. Its overall feel is similar to bands like Jesus Lizard and Today is the Day in the way the band’s primitive aggression serves more to drive unpredictable sound effects and lyrical diatribes. Busch’s vocals come in swinging, with his wailings and snarls reaching a fever pitch quickly. Think of the faux-anguish of the nu metal run-off, but it sounds convincing. He sounds like he’s losing his marbles, with atonal guitar soloing at the finish to round things off.
Not to be blasphemous, but the low-end chunkiness, and discordant chaos of “Funny Man” might bring some of Ross Robinson’s production credits to mind. No, this doesn’t mean Chat Pile sounds like Korn… Just when the low-end thud seems like it might go full “jump the fuck up,” the frenetic vocal poetry and demented guitar voicings mutate the heaviness into something much more disturbing. This emotional undercurrent allows for more wiggle room, as “Masc” marinates with baritone melodic vocal melodrama more akin to old-school Goth and Dark Wave, while the mid-tempo trot of the mid-section nods to hazy proto-grunge. Moments like this, and “Shame,” show how much Chat Pile can do within their chosen form—going from neurotic (yet undeniably hooks) post-punk to violent breakdowns complete with cavernous death growls.
Every noise rock act has to contend with balancing hair-raising sound collages and actual riffs, and Chat Pile rides that line perfectly. The half-time and syncopated bassline of “Frownland” does a great job of grounding the guitar mutations in cold-hard reality, with a compelling range of washy reverb and blunt impact. In the same way, “Camcorder” contrasts ethereal, tension-filled verses with recurring destructive sludgecore beatdowns. Busch treats these rusty, filth-caked masses as a stage for his theatrics. Whether he’s screaming his brains out, or muttering his way through a series of erratic trauma dumps. The latter tack shows how his less angry range works so well against bone-crunching distortion, giving emotional relevance to crushing heaviness.
While the comparison to disgraced noise rockers Daughters is a bit stale (and frankly, the quicker the scene leaves that disgraced band the better), it’s worth pointing out that in many ways Chat Pile does Daughters better. Having catchier refrains mixed into the hectic mayhem gives more to chew on than Busch’s horrifying voice, be it the shrill, brittle guitar stabbings in “Tape” or the unrelenting chug-fest of “The New World.” It’s certainly decedent and harsh, but not so far outside the realm of pissed off rock n roll that the only real memory becomes “wow, that was disturbing.” This is disturbing, but it’s also tough as hell.
The grunge vibes come through strong on the slow-burning dirge of “Milk of Human Kindness,” as Busch’s singing voice takes on its most vulnerable qualities to date. The band also gets more room to show their dynamism, as drummer Cap’n Ron provides a more nuanced rhythm structure for the dreary chord progressions and mournful melodies. It’s the perfect setup for the final assault of “No Way Out.” Lyrics like “From the time you were born it was over/ Dreams shattered on the ground/ Back then I was a believer, a dreamer/ I have nothing now,” encapsulate the fatalism that permeates this album. The album lands with the repeated scream “No Escape… No Way Out” over riffs as damaging as they are eerie.
Chat Pile represents a unique cross-section of heaviness that blurs the line between performance art and headbang-able music. While packing a punch when necessary, Cool World exists more to manifest a headspace — one marked by misery and delirium. The forms these songs take, or their range of intensity, only make the existential dread more vivid before the band shoves it down the listeners’ throats. It’s a perilous journey, but one worth taking.
Chat Pile’s Cool World releases October 11th on The Flenser
