As previously mentioned in past correspondence via these hallowed pages, when something comes heralded, trumpeted, paraded through the streets crunching down on every palm frond as it enters town, it sends spasms to the pit of my stomach, expecting the hype to supersede any talent on show, rendering any originality into a tiny speck of dust, destined to find itself sucked into the nearest Dyson or spider’s mouth. My Spidey senses are tingling like an exposed open leg fracture with a side order of chapped lips courtesy of the cold weather combined with three bags of pickled onion flavoured Monster Munch.
I think it is why I distrust the mechanics of public relations and press in general, knowing, as I do, that talent is not necessarily judged and awarded the rosettes and accolades it necessarily deserves. Meritocracy is all well and good as a concept, but it has very little currency nor is it applicable to the music business as a basic principle. Often the biggest cheque, blowjob (easy Nick, easy…) nepotism, or the largest press exposure, augments (or replaces entirely), any semblance of talent deserving or not. Whilst I set this review up to be the true supporter of the underdog, the saviour of the starving artist and the smiter of the Machiavellian mechanics of the music world, it is a moot and empty argument without the songs.
And so to Pupil Slicer, whether the band name is a tribute to Luis Brunel’s infamous 1929 film ‘An Andalusian Dog’, a social commentary on the recent spate of intra gang stabbings based on schools/postcodes that have so blighted large swathes of the UK (but especially London) or something else entirely, the entomology of the band’s name withstanding, this is a Molotov cocktail to the head. What, on the face of it sounds like fifteen musicians, is in fact only three (Katie Davies, Josh Adams and Luke Fabian) who contrive to create what is an unholy cacophony of noise. Upon first listen, the usual and clichéd comparisons are easy to draw. The discordant, fractured time signatures are mired deep in a Dillinger Escape Plan swamp, but to be fair, anything played within this genre, is going to suffer from this direct comparison, and as far as comparisons go, it’s not a bad one. The band has also had comparisons drawn to Neurosis in their slightly heavier moments, but I can’t see that at all. But there is a denseness to the chaos being wrought. A precision that actually belies its darker heavier roots that recalls fellow math rock/metalcore practitioners Sikth, in that the more experimental flourishes that pepper this album, are carried on a bedrock of sledgehammer riffs and blast beats that also recall the long lamented Botch.
And when the going gets rough, the vocals really step up the plate. Barked, screamed out to within an inch of their lives, there is something hugely impressive with the vocals here that convey pain, emotional vulnerability as well as a base level savagery. There’s an element of the old power violence genre at play here also (I do so hate that term, as well the genre politics within) where the vocals and riffs seem to conflate in a fuzz of distorted rage that threatens to derail the song before it recovers its poise and segues off into peaceful instrumental interludes that belies the chaos, fury and anger that has proceeded it. There are great examples of a deft touches and nuance to some of the songs here, as if the band realise that twelve tracks of bile inflected brutality isn’t quite enough to seal the deal. Non more apparent than on album closer ‘Collective Unconscious’ whilst still operating in blast beats territory, plays enough with the formula to slacken off the reigns, slowing the pace and allowing hints of melody to peek through the clouds like shards of sunlight through a storm.
For a debut album, Pupil Slicer have had to set out their stall in terms of the brutality they can harness, and their blanket of post metal, grindcore and shades of death metal can be a suffocating and almost overwhelming experience. But the more you listen to this album, the more you begin to get a peek behind the curtain and catch a glimpse of Oz. Because I get the feeling that if (when) Pupil Slicer get the chance to go on the road and play these songs to an audience, their undoubted talents and song writing dexterity will move them even further away from the blunt force trauma of some of the songs here and begin to showcase their more experimental side that is gently bleeding into the stomach of many of the songs on this album. When this album moves slightly away from the main path of straightforward chaos of their admittedly impressive brutal DEP/Converge stylings, Pupil Slicer really find their stride. Overall, this is a very decent effort, that is a brutal and at times, frighteningly good showcase for an obviously hugely talented band. Once the shackles of their obvious influences have been cast aside (which will happen over time), Pupil Slicer have a very bright future indeed.
(8.5/10 Nick Griffiths)
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