Brothers are not related, but a dark punk band that features members of Watcher, Chainshot, EQUALITYISAFALSEGOD and Pissbath. This collective of underground punks prove themselves capable of churning up a sonic storm right when their self-titled album opens with the very deliberate pacing the title track. Post-punk might be one of this band’s influences, but I would not call these guys a post-punk band, as I am reminded more of early Sonic Youth than bands like Joy Division. I think this is because where post-punk works off of moody tension, these guys are more explosive and aggressive. But isn’t that what punk is supposed to sound like? They are more nuanced than your average one, two, three.. Go! styled punk; their pace picks up in erratic outbursts before slinking back down into a more self-deprecating march. The rowdy bass comes pounding out of the murk of “This Nausea.” Two minutes in they do give you a breather and let a dismal melody float out from the collision of chords. Even in their most melodic moments, the often-shouted vocals remain a more spoken word narrative.
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This album is raw from a production standpoint, but manages to create a natural ambiance that radiates from the where the instruments sit in the mix before they kick into a more feedback-soaked chaos that is only contained by the efficient structures of these songs. The bass continues to provide the backbone on “Marching Among the Dead.” Some of the chords are allowed to breathe in places on this one, but the song is more monochromatic in its sonic scope than on the bulk of the album. The guitar is more jagged on “Cold Hands.” The drums eventually assault the dissonant, clanging chords with a more intense battering in certain sections. The guitar remains constant in its droning jangle of feedback that sounds like the echoing ring of sheet metal being slapped together. This is not done with the unbridled recklessness that most punk bands attack their instruments with, but with a more subtle intention to find beauty beneath the abrasion. There is a more militant attack to “As the Past Shatters,” and the guitar swells into a wall of white noise as the song builds.
The band claims to have a tattered sexuality, and seems to have the questioning of their sexuality as almost their dysfunctional mission statement. This is not really reflected in their music, unless their intention is to use the raw, noise-ridden clanging they build as a metaphor to express the barriers they use to keep themselves from intimacy. The stark atmosphere that is often created does invoke that image. This album begins to soak into you once your ears are finished ringing from the first listen. Repeat listens allowed me to hear things that were buried in some of the bluster that barraged me during the initial listen. If bands like Iceage and Lower have gotten too rock ‘n roll for you, and you need dark abrasive punk that still cares about its songs, then these guys are going to make your week.
