One of the problems of writing about music is that you can find a band that you love, only to become so overwhelmed with content that you never catch sight of them again. This has been the case with the wonderful Modern Technology, whose debut EP felt so utterly vital when it crossed my desk back in early 2019 and, despite the band’s subsequent activity, I’ve not been as diligent in keeping up as I might have wished. It is with this apology in mind that I approach the band’s debut full-length some little while after it was released, fully aware that the only person to have missed out is me.
Modern technology, for those of you who missed their crackling debut EP, are a London-based duo who deal in explosive rock ‘n’ roll reminiscent of Fugazi and Sonic Youth. Much like the aforementioned acts, the band have adopted a socially conscious pose, engaging with themes such as inequality, climate change and identity and, much like the aforementioned acts, Modern Technology have put their money where their mouths are, donating 20% of their proceeds to key charities. At a time when so many people have collapsed in on themselves, focusing only on their own advances, it is heartening to see that there are still rock bands who prioritise a cause over placement on a playlist, and it certainly makes the already compelling music resonate all the more.
The Album opens with the thunderous toms of Therapy. Imagine, if you will, a cross between De Staat, Idles and the Melvins, and you have an idea of the dirty, ferociously unhinged racket the band are dealing with. Aided by James Plotkin, whose mastering brings out the band’s bottom end, Modern Technology have harnessed a darker edge to their sound and, as opening gambits go, it’s not unlike being beaten over the head with a lump of concrete. Not that the band are worried over the bloody injury they inflict. The scything Blackwall Approach emerges from a layer of feedback, and any melody that dares seep into the mix is implied rather than explicitly stated as the bass piles on over a tribal beat that sounds like Killing Joke stripped right back to their primal, punk roots. However, any hypnotic elements that might be suggested by aforementioned, are rapidly dispelled by the surging horror of Gate Crasher, which has all the subtlety of the titular character and none of the social graces. Built around a cycling bass riff so brutal, you can practically hear the speaker cones shaking themselves to pieces in their mountings, it’s a dense, grimy slab of rock music that cleaves closer to Neurosis than any piece the band have yet penned. It leaves the slower-burning Twitcher to round out the LP’s first side, the slower pace and murky opening serving to create unease rather than offer relief from the sonic savagery found elsewhere.
Opening side two, All Is Forgiven cruises on a gargantuan riff that feels all the lighter for directly following the bowel-crushing horror of Twitcher. The vocals, lost in a haze of distorted reverb, seem to float in the centre of the tornado the band have summoned, exhorting and cajoling as you stare blankly into the void. Just as the LP seems to have hit its darkest trough, the hulking riff of Semi-Detached will set the heart racing with a riff that feels like early Sonic youth dragged screaming into the sludgiest of pastures. Utterly addictive, it’s an album highlight, and one that you’ll be playing for any unfortunate friends you may have who have yet to hear Modern technology. It’s all pulled earthwards, as the title attests, with the short, utterly draining instrumental Terra Firma – a segue track that brings us to the epic closing track. Just shy of eight-minutes in length, Life Like is both a perfect summation of Modern Technology’s work to date and a tantalising promise of what may lie ahead. Slow burning, atmospheric and dense, it works its way into your consciousness step by insidious step and only then, when it has achieved complete control, do the band allow themselves off the leash, wrenching each riff from some terrible place of uncertainty and gaining ascendency through sheer abrasive noise.
Reflecting the events of the past year, Service Provider is a darker, harder listen than Modern Technology’s eponymous debut. Yet, if the music represents a darker outlook, it is also defiant in the face of despair, and the band offer hope in their support of charities that promise a more egalitarian future. At a time when so many feel powerless, Modern Technology have made even the simple act of buying a record an example of direct action against the increasingly oppressive governments and corporations that have gained such traction across the West. Music has proved, time and again, a force for both social revolution and evolution, and Modern Technology are a band making good on that promise. 9 / 10
