Released on 180gr. Vinyl and tape, Plevre’s debut EP is a spitting, venomous blast of aggressive music that mixes black metal, post hardcore and noise into a furious whirlwind of deranged noise. Short and brutal, the EP is the sort of underground racket that will happily remain the preserve of a niche audience which will make up for its lack of size with a fierce and furious commitment to the band that few, if any mainstream bands can ever hope to match. Featuring eight tracks, the majority of which barely scape the two minute work, Plevre’s EP is certainly a short listen, but what it lacks in length it makes up for in sheer abrasiveness.
Opening with a squeal of feedback which threatens to destroy your speakers, the Ep’s first track is the discordant ‘Incipit’ which recalls the avant-noise experiments of Sonic Youth on ‘the silver session’ before seguing into the blackened punk of the aptly titled ‘nausees’. Unfeasibly unpleasant, the production is raw, the playing ragged, and yet the adrenalin rush that greets the dirty, bloody melee is unmistakable. Reminiscent of the Melvins at their most impenetrable, with hints of Botch and Neurosis thrown in for good measure, this is dark, sludgy psychosis in audible form and as the EP segues to ‘Deni’ things hardly improve. With awkward progressions on the guitar, drumming that threatens to break down at any moment an d a guitar sound hewn from concrete, this is damaged music for damaged people and it sounds pretty damn awesome. In contrast, as picks drag across strings and feedback howls, ‘Fosse commune’ is the soundtrack to an unnamed horror, tearing its dirty fingernails against the door and so it’s almost a relief when ‘[…]’ is tossed into the room like a phosphorous grenade, blinding and burning the occupants in equal measure. ‘Summis desiderantes’, after the brutal yet meandering […] is super short and super obnoxious with the guitars fizzing away as the screams pile up only for ‘morsure’ to up the ante and further brutalise the listener with crushing weight and an unholy groove that gives the song a memorable edge for that it’s delivered with palpable malice. The album ends with the brief, post-hardcore misanthropy of ‘mammiferes’, its descending chords and mangled lead runs delivered by a band who apply a jazz sensibility to their increasingly bruising compositions.
When it comes to Plevre, only the most dedicated noise merchants need apply. This is the relaxing music of choice for the Skullflower fan, a more brutal alternative to Neurosis at their most cluttered, and it is hard to imagine the band reaching (or wishing to reach) a large audience. What the band offer is an aural representation of fury, a coruscating whirlpool of degradation and filth that slams the listener almost physically. It’s not pleasant, but for those with a taste for the extreme it ticks all the right boxes. Recommended, but with caution!
