Ah Human Worth… How much sonic carnage is hidden behind such a deceptively pleasant name? It always seems paradoxical that some of the most ethically minded labels and artists are those who have the most unholy racket to make. And yet here we are, with a deeply ethical label that donates a portion of its proceeds to support individuals in crisis while also ensuring the bands whose work they release are actually, you know, paid (far rarer than it looks, believe me).
Anyhow, given Human Worth’s past successes, when the label has a record to drop, it’s not something to overlook and so, when they sent over Remote Viewing, it seemed sensible to don the earmuffs, position myself at a suitable distance from the stereo and hit play, fully aware that my spleen might be forcibly ejected from my body at any moment.
Neither was I disappointed, for #makemoneymakelovemakemoney cheerily operates in similar sonic terrain to Botch and Coilguns, the sludge-infused riffs flooding down over a clattering backdrop that, nevertheless, pales in comparison to the throat-trauma vocals that tear out from the heart of the mix. Music this dense, as we have noted on these pages before, is hardly for the faint of heart, but it’s worth persevering, not least because Remote Viewing displays a remarkable grasp of dynamics as the track progresses, offsetting the antagonistic opening against moments of seething pseudo-calm reminiscent of Neurosis. It’s no easy ride but survive the opening inferno and you’re well on your way to discovering your new favourite sludge band.
Having softened you up, Remote Viewing wastes little time on repeating the battering on Retrain as a Swan, which opens on the sort of unholy riff that makes you wince merely to think of it. Utterly ferocious it may be, yet it also packs quite the addictive groove for all of the syncopated rhythms that John Breslin deploys, and you soon find yourself adopting the position – head down, hair swinging, mouth stretched into a grimace, as each successive cymbal crash forces you to nod in time to the music. Once again, however, the oppressive weight is only half the story and moments of impossible beauty find their way to the surface amidst the tumult, only to be swept away once more as the storm resumes its irresistible assault.
White hot riffs abound on the whimsically titled Straight To VHS, which sounds like Botch and Eye Hate God jamming on Khanate covers. Riven with feedback and a towering vocal performance from Ed Dudley that borders on a sonic representation of psychosis, it’s unsettling in the extreme, the band allowing a far more dissonant edge to creep in as they go. Slightly more accessible is Disrespect the Arts, which finds James Bryant and Tim Fowler trading elastic riffs, although the track reaches its peak when everything slips away, exposing Ed’s unholy scream in all its glory for a few moments, before the guitars return in a twisted scree of feedback that seems to wrap itself around the listener and pull them ever deeper into the sonic quagmire the band has constructed.
Emerging from a moment of pure calm, HUMAN RIGHTS trades sludge for eerie doom, with the band slowing the pace to a leaden crawl. It also finds Ed exploring a different side to his vocals, as he shifts between a despairing howl and a throat-ripping scream that makes you fear for his vocal cords. This is not so much music that you listen to as you experience and, played at a suitable volume, it blots out the mundane, taking over your room, your house, and your imagination entirely.
And yet…
And yet, this is not about bludgeoning the listener for the sake of it. Stand your ground and, right at the heart of the song, you’ll find a moment of sublime beauty, split between shards of guitar and the sanguine tones of a cello, the latter eking out a haunting melody that will stay with you long after the album has run its course, all of which serves to place Remote Viewing on a level with the almighty Neurosis.
Even longer is the epic Accidental Holiday, which hauls itself out of John Atkins’s churning bass to become an eerie death march, with post-rock guitars and arcing feedback evoking an aura of distant threat in advance of the harrowing riffs that must surely follow. When the ensuing onslaught does arrive, it finds the band dabbling in angular post-hardcore, with elements of Cave In, Botch, and ISIS all shot through the mix. It leaves the awkwardly titled Birds Of A Feather Is On In Only 7 Minutes to see things out. A short, sub-three-minute coda, it plays out as a sort of static-washed, ambient music box, creating a woozy sense of time running backwards as it slowly fades to nothing.
As I look back across this review, I wonder (as I often do) if I’ve really captured what it is that makes Remote Viewing special. For sure, this is heavy fucking music. Yet, where it stands out is with the subtle shifts and digressions: the fractal noise patterns that sit at the heart of HUMAN RIGHTS; the unearthly beauty that reveals itself in Retrain as a Swan; the clean vocals that appear at the core of Accidental Holiday, all adding a sense of depth and dynamic to the overall work.
Beautifully produced, State Violence is an impressive work that is best heard as a complete piece, preferably with the curtains closed and the volume set to stun. Lose yourself for forty minutes – you won’t regret it. Human Worth strikes again, for Remote Viewing is an absolutely immense band. 9.5/10
