Week 4: Chat Pile, Weird Nightmare, and a (Critical) Take on Rumours

This week, the Old Guys get loud and then, well, a bit cranky. We start with metal from Oklahoma City, head north of the border to power pop from Toronto, and then finish up with a no-holds-barred assessment of, well, the literal opposite of metal and power pop: Fleetwood Mac's Rumours (RIP, Christine McVie).

New album: God's Country by Chat Pile. Too often, metal bands can bring a lovely unholy cacophonous roar, but, if it’s not tempered with tempo or dynamic changes, it can devolve into an undifferentiated boring din.  Chat Pile’s debut studio album God’s Country studiously avoids this pitfall, making it one of the most interesting and innovative metal albums of the year. 

Chat Pile’s sound starts with a nod to grindcore stalwarts Godflesh.  Chat Pile takes that wall of pulsing industrial discordant noise and adds elements to keep it interesting.  Eschewing the drum machine, Chat Pile uses an actual human, Cap’n Ron, adding layers of effects to the drum sounds to keep the reference to industrial drum machines, but, with the expanded talents of a human drummer.  And while the drum sounds are heavily processed, Chat Pile takes the unorthodox approach of using largely clean vocals that are forward in the mix.  Using an intonation reminiscent of Protomartyr’s Joe Casey, Raygun Busch’s delivery is flat, unhurried, sometimes spoken, and expertly tweaks the tension, ending up as a yell as the band reaches full fury. 

They let the groove ride and the tension slowly build, in anticipation of the ecstatic moment when all the elements kick in, all the pedals are stomped, and the band unleashes waves of teeth-rattling jagged groovy dissonance. 

Charles

Best of all, Chat Pile knows how to let their songs breathe.  The band drops instruments in and out, steps on and off the distortion pedals, inserts quiet sections.  They let the groove ride and the tension slowly build, in anticipation of the ecstatic moment when all the elements kick in, all the pedals are stomped, and the band unleashes waves of teeth-rattling jagged groovy dissonance.   

The standout track is “Anywhere.”  It has the characteristic balance of spoken lyrics, full-throated yells, quiet/loud/quiet dynamics, and also adds a guitar feedback swoop riding on the top of the noise of the chorus—a touch of sweetness to balance out the industrial discordance.   

And just when I couldn’t love them anymore, they just released another banger single, “Tenkiller,” and, showing off their range and sense of humor, it’s backed with a B-side that is a twanged out country and western jam.  (Charles) 

Album from an upcoming/recent show: Weird Nightmare by Weird Nightmare. I only started wearing earplugs at shows a few years ago. Two bands prompted the change, which was borne of superstition after one time in 1994 when I wore them for a Smashing Pumpkins show, which was horrendous. I blamed the earplugs, though in retrospect, I probably should have blamed heroin and big egos.

One of the bands that prompted me to revisit this policy was METZ, a Canadian punk band that plays at blistering volumes (the other was the Palma Violets). So when I saw that a METZ side project from its guitarist Alex Edkins called Weird Nightmare (like METZ, also on indie stalwart label Sub Pop) was opening for Archers of Loaf (see: 3A6OG Issue #3), I should have been prepared. But as it was, when they hit their first note, my ears were bare and remained so for the first song or two. My ears continue to ring.

Which leads me to my main point on this band (which hardly feels like a side project): they put the power in power pop. Often when you hear the genre "power pop," what you hear will feel more like pop, with perhaps an extra pedal in the mix. Weird Nightmare flips that model and emphasizes power. Their Bandcamp page refers to classic-era Guided by Voices and Sugar, and when you turn on a track like "Sunday Driver," you may well think you have stumbled across an alternate take of a song from Bee Thousand, the classic GBV record. The guitars are turned up and forward in the mix, the lyrics are buried, and the drums are pounding.

"The guitars are turned up and forward in the mix, the lyrics are buried, and the drums are pounding" -- that frankly sounds like METZ. The difference here is the melodies, the hooks, and the fact that the songs are just a beat or so slower than a METZ track would be. There isn't space in the mix, per se, but there's time to latch on to the songs. That's certainly true of the opening track, "Searching for You," which kicks in after a deceptive drum machine and is as catchy as any rock track this year, or the endlessly enticing "Darkroom." If METZ hurdles along at 100 MPH and you're mostly hoping to withstand the impact, then Weird Nightmare "only" going 75 gives you a chance to hop on board.

The lyrics are not earth-shattering (when you can make them out), and I could have done without the 1-minute acoustic instrumental "Zebra Dance" or the meandering, electronic, cutting-room-floor snippets track "Holding Out" that closes the record. Those misses are the only inkling that this is a side project, conjuring a feeling that Alex maybe thought he had to throw it all in while he had the chance. I can forgive that and certainly hope this is not the only chance to hear a Weird Nightmare record or put my earplugs in and brace myself for the power and volume. (Brad)

Album being rediscovered (at least 10 years old):  Rumours by Fleetwood Mac. I hate Fleetwood Mac.  I mean, I really hate Fleetwood Mac.  I hate the idea of Fleetwood Mac; I hate the mythology and stories about intra-band relationships, romantic and otherwise.  And I really dislike the music.  To me, Fleetwood Mac in their prime was the music of cocaine and key parties, and later on became background music for trips to the grocery store and the dentist, each of which is unappealing in its own way.  But with the death of Christine McVie last week at age 79, it seemed like a good time to reassess what others consider to be their greatest album and an all-time classic.  (Yes, I know, some fans carry the flag for Tusk.  One album at a time.)

I’ll start by acknowledging that Christine McVie and Lindsey Buckingham were/are supremely talented musicians and songwriters, and that Stevie Nicks is also a great singer and pop songwriter.  In exchange, the Mac-heads need to acknowledge that Mick Fleetwood is a middling drummer at best, and John McVie isn’t exactly Mike Watt on the four-string. 

Accept that, to me, Rumours sounds less like an artistic achievement and more like overblown cocktail party music, and I’ll stop trying to convince you that Warren Zevon is the greatest songwriter of that era (except that he is).

Brian

As for Rumours itself, it was first viewed as a mega-selling soft rock album, and kudos to Christine McVie for writing half the songs on an album that sold roughly a bajillion copies.  But now it can routinely be found in the top 10 of any given list of the greatest albums of all time.  As we all know, “You Make Loving Fun” is a song about how Fleetwood Mac’s lighting guy is better in the sack than John McVie.  Does the song stand on its own without the cheeky backstory?  I’d argue it doesn’t and that it blends in with less acclaimed ‘70s soft rock, but others clearly disagree.  When I listen to “The Chain” I hear bombast, excessive drama, and kitsch.  If you want to evoke the late ‘70s or early ‘80s, it’s perfect – as an example, check out how the TV show The Americans used “The Chain” to soundtrack fictional Cold War espionage and murder.  But that doesn’t make me want to add “The Chain” to a playlist.  “Don’t Stop” is an inoffensive piece of pop music that got a jolt when Bill Clinton was elected.  Again, context – would it be regarded as well without that moment? 

I could continue going through the rest of the album, but why bother?  “Go Your Own Way,” “Dreams,” “Songbird,” “Gold Dust Woman” – songs that everyone knows.  It’s pretty clear that late ‘70s soft rock isn’t my thing, so maybe this is less a reassessment and more of an acceptance.  As the response to Christine McVie’s passing proved, Fleetwood Mac’s music is still insanely popular.  And I can’t really hold the soap opera-esque stories about the band against them – they were hardly the only band to engage in the excesses of the ‘70s.  It’s not for me, and that’s fine. 

So I’ll propose a deal to the Fleetwood Mac fans.  Accept that, to me, Rumours sounds less like an artistic achievement and more like overblown cocktail party music, and I’ll stop trying to convince you that Warren Zevon is the greatest songwriter of that era (except that he is). (Brian)