The classic idea of the sort of band that one might expect to find on Thrill Jockey seems to be blown apart with every new release. Iowa City’s Aseethe are a great case in point with their second album for the label upping the heavy ante to monolithic proportions.
Sounding more like someone you would find on Southern Lord or even early Earache, they turn the volume and sustain way up, and turn the tempo way down to grinding pace. Spreading the album over five tracks allows the songs to unfurl at a natural — or taking into account the distorted vocals, an unnatural pace. For a power trio, they sure do have a lot of power, and with both guitarist Brian Barr and bassist Noah Koester sharing the vocal duties, they generate a lot of uncomfortable textures.
I don’t know who is who vocal-wise, but the two very different techniques make for two different sensations. One sounds like it is coming from the bowels of Hell, unnatural and inhuman like a Devil’s voice, whereas the other is more waspish, a bitter shriek that reminds me a little of Alan Dubin from OLD. In fact, it is the old days of Earache to which I was first transported on first listen, but the howling and grumbling vocals feed on the current state of the world and the frustration that is inherent in it, spewing forth with righteous ire.To accompany these forces of unnature, they have taken the classic guitar, bass, drums trio and filled it with the slow anguish of tortured guitars and the thundering cacophony of an earth-moving rhythm section. The bass is subterranean most of the time, shifting the rhythm along from underground like some musical equivalent of the creatures in Tremors, stealthy yet enormous. Everything that is above ground is teeming with sustain from the guitar as it rears up from the deep, unleashing a screech of abandon to the wash of the cymbals, the two sounds melding as the momentum drops and the sounds decay, only to surge back with the next stroke of the strings.
For all their use of power and torpor, Aseethe do know how to reach over to the other side, as the opening section of “To Victory” reveals. Here, the band show the antithesis to their leaden assault with a quiet repetitive guitar motif and the softest wash of the cymbals, with a barely perceptible bass almost lulling the listener. But it is a false sense of security into which we are lulled and when the band hits again, it hits hard, the two vocalists taking it in turns to vent angst and fury in equal measure, easily matched by the extraordinary discipline and power of drummer Eric Diercks. He hits hard, but his technique and ability to introduce fills and rolls in unexpected places is a pleasure to follow. It is interesting how the opening segments of the tracks are almost experiments in anticipation, seeing how long they can draw the listener into something more peaceful or gentle before exposing them to the might of the rest of the piece. “Suffocating Burden” acts almost as a palate cleanser, with its drone-like intro and guitars whistling and squawking in the distance, eventually emerging from some dark, dank place, dripping with something unknown.This gentle intro lark works best on ten-minute closer “Our Worth Is The New Measure”, where the slow, imperious start creates a bed of tension which the short ventral section attempts to dissipate, before the even longer outro takes over. It is here that their love of sustain and decay, and their use of space and silence, is most evident. It lasts for ages, and with each chord ascending into sparkling feedback, the anticipation of which will be the final chord is full of tension. When it finally arrives, it comes with a sense of relief, and you can stop clenching your fists again.
-Mr Olivetti-
