Abrasive Splendor: The Body & Full Of Hell REVIEW
There comes a time in every young man, woman, nonbinary, or other person’s life when they have something put in front of them that is so jagged, bare, raw, textured and destructive that it achieves all levels of perfection and surpasses it without batting an eyelash. Now take extreme experimental noise metal turned alternative pop duo, The Body (who I interviewed not too long ago here) and corroborate their sound with one of the consistently limb-sprouting and genre-transitioning harsh noise-laden, power-electronically driven, and ferociously deafening quartets known as Full Of Hell (who I also interviewed not too long ago here) and put equal part of each band’s sound into one monumental studio effort. Take this release and create a new release aptly donning the title of One Day You Will Ache Like I Ache. This release pushes the limits of sound itself, and meets every single qualification for a legendary categorization.
The album has eight standard tracks that last just over 32 minutes, as well as two bonus tracks that add some length with online orders. Each song is a mind melting, action-packed extravaganza. What is so impressive about it, to me, is that it isn’t everything everyone was trying to project or tell each group they wanted. It wasn’t the direction fans were trying to box each artist into, sometimes even myself included. What this album is, however, is a piece that renders my vocab and search engines for descriptive value speechless by being just as awful, horrendous, and revolting as it is refined, honed, and beautiful – if not more.
One Day You Will Ache Like I Ache immerses Full Of Hell into the realm of The Body’s overflowing production coughs and rocking buzz with their biting synth and bass-driving drum pads, every instance of the corners of dirty clubs and pulsing parties of people whose intentions aren’t the best. It simultaneously takes The Body into the new territory of speedy, sharp, stabbing notes and relentless fills, blasts, and cymbal crashes, as if the club was locked shut and lit on fire. The panic and thrashing of patrons scrambling for refuge and safety leaves you scratched, bruised, trampled, and potentially dead. This combination is a formula for disaster on accounts of what we see as a consuming audience but, surprisingly, the formula brings forth only a developed commentary on the most remarkable sides of human nature. In reality, it showcases the lapses of judgment, the malleability of will, and the conditions of creativity or lack thereof. The collaboration continuously showcases the efforts of each set as exactly what you would expect from a harsh grinding death metal band and a dark noisy duo that released one of the best pop albums of all time (next to SOPHIE’s Product, Gnarls Barkley’s St. Elsewhere, and Sia’s This Is Acting) while also showing the methods of execution that would be considered not-before seen and brand new for either act. Each track contains its fair share of awesomeness but it is the overall despicable, unsettling, and agitating vibe from each strike of a string and hit on a head that manifests all the energy into an abstract perfection.
Frosted, cracked, and dirty glass separates us from the outer area from the world that The Body and Full Of Hell have shamelessly and insidiously created. Dividing this release into its separate parts is something I refuse to do, because doing so would literally take apart the world we are not meant to see but in full. This album, front-to-fucking-back, is an experience that works unanimously to trap you into a place you hadn’t quite gone into before listening. It taps into the purest veins of sadness, anger, disgust, elation, and hopelessness and takes samples from each track-marked limb to create a fertilizer for hatred and devastation. Planting seeds across all lands this album works endlessly to build and elaborate upon; the bands take the mixture and water the land with it. It rains from the skies and covers everything in emotion that’s difficult not to feel, see, or (more obviously) hear. Developments, transitions, views, contrasts, and absolutely numbing effects are not nearly as appreciated individually as they are when observed cohesively with their integral parts. Listeners also don’t understand the massiveness of the sum of all the parts. No song is a missing piece or a sore thumb of an accessory; all the songs on the album have a very significant role to play and there is no ability to take a single part away without distorting the picture and losing the full view of murderous, seductive beauty One Day You Will Ache Like I Ache possesses and presents. From all angles, it is an accumulation of absolute mania and lunacy. Guitar riffs that have so much hum they make your ears buzz and drum work hard enough to spear your enemies with. The vocal work is absolutely stellar; Dylan, Chip, and The Body’s usual slew of guests (and maybe a new one or two) all have voices that are nothing alike but intertwine and work together flawlessly, seamlessly, and mighty impressively in a dance of fire and ritual.
The album has the atmospheric desolation and solitude in hell of usual The Body works, but it gets a new drop of piercing, razor-sharp artistry from the young, talented minds, hands, and mouths of Full Of Hell. It is both an experience that takes you above the clouds and an experience that drags you below the dirt. I am more than blissful to be torn in two by the pure musician-driven curiosity and envelope-pushing of alt-pop meeting unforgiving grind, and all other listeners out there should be, too. I have repeated myself many times, tripping over my words in excitement to get more people to uncover this majestic piece of dastardly work, and I can’t help but feel that the same thing is happening here. One Day You Will Ache Like I Ache does one thing that many releases wish they could do, but aren’t quite able to reach: it speaks for itself. It’s smart, abrasive, beautiful, and brimming with possibility for different interpretations. It holds its ground stronger than necessary and asserts its position as a force to not only be reckoned with, but cowered away from.