Opening with a burst of feedback that could cause even the terminally hard of hearing to wince, it rapidly becomes apparent that that is probably the gentlest thing you’ll here on this over-amped, neurotic, warped slice of extreme brutality. As the riffs grind through your speakers vocalist Josh Scogin screeches ‘disappointed, I know you are’ which is actually pretty far from the truth because I’m anything but…
The Chariot then, for this is they, make the kind of ugly music that has casual music fans asking me if I genuinely enjoy stuff like this or if I am just trying to look cool. I would have to argue the latter because who tries to look cool by listening to the unlistenable? Rather I enjoy music that tests boundaries and if, as is the case here, that can sometimes be something of an endurance test, then all the better – at least it’s different. The chariot produce a kind of hardcore, but one that is steeped in metal and grindcore and the net result is rather like listening to Khanate on vinyl at the wrong speed setting. Certainly Josh has the rawest voice since Alan Dubin stepped up to the mic so wouldn’t you be surprised if in the middle of ‘Calvin Makenzie’ the lurch and grind of the band’s full-throttle rock was suddenly subjugated to the glorious melody of a 1950’s-esque track? It’s the kind of detail (and perhaps humour) that so many bands lack and it’s a step into left-field which immediately causes you to pay more attention – this is a band worth listening to. With every song offering up levels of intensity that you’d be hard pressed to match the promo sheet, admirably written as it is, just does not do the band justice and thus far the best way to truly appreciate the power of this band (short of listening to it) is to look at the raucous cover photo which echoes Nirvana’s Bleach in simplicity but which also is the perfect snapshot of the intensity the band’s gigs offer.
At a mere thirty minutes, this is the sort of album that rarely pauses to take stock of its surroundings; the ethos is simple, keep up or die trying and that is undoubtedly a principle that the band also apply with steely-eyed ruthlessness in the pit. Even so it is the epic clarity of vision that the band have employed with every song that makes them so special. Take ‘The city’ as an example. Brutally heavy, vocally terrifying and yet the song closes with the sort of gorgeous harmony that the Arcade Fire made their stock in trade. It is this consistent ability to surprise and develop their sound that makes The Chariot so astonishing and yet they never once compromise the overall heaviness of their music. Highlights include the droning doom of ‘The earth’, the aforementioned beauty that closes ‘the city’, the ethereal closing notes to David De La Hoz which are as unexpected as they are sublime and the terrifying art-rock squall of ‘the heavens’ but then, in all honesty, finding highlights may be as simple as reading the ten-song track-list because every track offers up something different to admire.
Until the promo arrived I had never heard of The Chariot. That was deeply unfortunate on my part because this is an astonishing album that will blow your expectations of what a band can do. Twisted, arty, horrible, beautiful, heavy and with an almighty groove underpinning the vicious moments this is a truly innovative band at the peak of their powers. Moreover The Chariot are a band who genuinely care about their art, taking the time and trouble to individually work on the first 25,000 copies of their last album (‘wars and rumours of wars’) and that attention to detail is entirely evident in the song-writing here. I find it hard to recommend this band strongly enough – find them on myspace, or on their website and then drool with anticipation until this amazing album is released in November – it’ll be worth the wait.
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