Boris—NO

The only consistency among Boris’ studio output is the band's refusal of categorisation. Blending doom, noise, and even J-pop, Boris push boundaries in so many different directions it’s hard to believe they’re only one band. Their most recent album NO has been described by fans as a “back-to-basics” album; riff-driven, chugging, volatile and relentless. But it’s disingenuous to suggest there was ever anything basic to go back to.

Instead, NO resurrects the wild fury absent from their phoned-in recent releases. From beginning to end, the record is apoplectic, venomous and loud to the threshold of physical injury. It’s the sonic equivalent of having fireworks pushed up your bum and then being shoved down a steep hill.

NO is as defiant as suggested by its title. It's as non-specific, too. Takeshi and Wata’s vocals and guitar tones are more anguished and extreme than ever, but no message is audible over the album’s hopeless scream. Words cannot supplicate what it has to say; so it says nothing instead, but very loudly. I’m reminded of Werner Herzog’s The White Diamond, in which an interviewee paraphrases Emerson: “I cannot hear what you say for the thunder that you are.” In its sublime anger, NO transcends reason to touch something beyond words.

According to self-described ‘Boris slut’ Henry Rollins, NO is a violent and acidic expulsion of the last few years of bullshit we've been forced to eat. The stinking foundations of the 1980s have begun swallowing the precarious structures sat atop them. Coolheadedness and passivity got everyone into this mess. No means exist to criticise a corrupt system from within—the only recourse becomes to disrupt from outside.

Consequently, NO favours noise over melody, setting out a manifesto of animalistic snarls, shredded rhythm guitar, pounding drums and some of the band’s heaviest and most memorable riffs. You can tell times are strange when the most prescient and contemporary-feeling art speaks in the language of cavemen. NO is something which speaks to the state of the world on a fundamental level. It is the sound of abandoning polite discourse to tell everyone to go fuck themselves.

NO is available for purchase and streaming here.

Words: Andrew O’Keefe

Have a Nice Life — Sea of Worry

Have a Nice Life contend with the legacy of their seminal work, Deathconsciousness. This is a trap many young bands with promise become caught in. It's the reason My Bloody Valentine took twenty-two years to follow up Loveless. Taking notes from MBV, Have a Nice Life have here rejigged their signature sound.

Tremolo guitar and falsetto ooh-ing gives Sea of Worry a blackened surf-rock vibe. Production is more squeaky-clean than before. Lyrical candour is as biting as ever, but now more considered; less damaged and frightening. The cumulative effect of these changes is a mixed bag. The album separates itself elegantly from Have a Nice Life's previous work, but at points feels tinny and phoned-in.

Earlier works' cracked rage defers to a resigned softness. Lyrics are still peppered with arcane imagery and refer to Satan and death. But something feels more measured; a depressive old-head who has learned to coexist with their condition.

When this approach works, though, Sea of Worry is a joy. 'Science Beat' is a dreamy piece which lunges into some beautiful harmonies and melodic guitar phrases. It's something like a lost New Order song, damaged and decayed but still reaching towards the sun. A microcosm of this album's successes, the song is a balancing act between hope and dismay.

'Lords of Tresserhorn' majestically resurrects the band's noisy origins. It feels like a self-immolating track. Every snare crash loosens the kit's component parts a little more. Every strike of string frays and splits the steel fibres. 'Destinos' is similarly monstrous, but offers unexpected moments of respite amidst its crushing power. These tracks represent a tendency for Sea of Worry to regress further into the band's old sound as it proceeds.

The general tone is one of quiet, fractured ethereality. The viscera has been mopped up, but the floor is still stained. It's an album which is beautiful, hopeful, and even at times fun. Have a Nice Life still occupy the same troublesome world — but they're having a good day in it.

Sea of Worry is available to purchase and stream here.

Words by Andrew O’Keefe