Two years ago Chicago trio Lower Automation seared and pleasured ears with their debut EP Maps. Now the band returns with its successor in Shoebox Companion and six tracks which also scorch, disorientate, and simply excite the senses and imagination. In some ways it is more of the same invention found in that first release pushed and taken to a whole new plateau but in far more avenues it is a new rabid animal of sound and enterprise.
Creating a ravenous spiral of math punk and rabid noise which never takes a moment to relax its tempest, the threesome of guitarist/vocalist Derek Allen, bassist Brian Sutton, and drummer Matt Walen use bare seconds to infest ears and peace. As proven by both EPs, it is a welcome invasion which despite its individuality, an essence escalated within Shoebox Companion, breeds part resemblance to a feral mix of Dillinger Escape Plan, At The Drive In, and mclusky.
Shoebox Companion opens up with Coax, a track immediately luring attention though there is nothing gentle or gradual about its initial sonic trespass. The corkscrew of guitar which instantly erupts is seductively violent as too the rampant rhythms which join it. Sutton’s bass is a grumbling joy while Allen’s subsequent vocals are mellow and charming against the building meshuga of sound. It is all though just the trigger to greater disorientation in sound and imagination as the track creatively veers this way and that like a dervish; every one of its spiky wires adding to the pleasure.
It is a glorious start kept in full charge by next up Cattle Prod Hypochondriac. Allen’s voice and guitar ravages the senses from the song’s first breath yet it is an infectious violation driven by the rapier swings of Walen and the ever compelling guttural rumble of Sutton’s bass. Discord and dissonance flood every turn, the tangle of sound as unpredictable as it is virulent across two and a half minutes of inventive chaos.
Tethered has a touch more control to its maelstrom as harmonic strife and relative calm align within the song’s sonic chasm. The irritable incursion of rhythms equally makes for a tempering contrast to the intoxicated antics of the wailing guitar; it all uniting for increasing layers of magnetism before 30 Second Song provides just that but a half minute of carnal magnificence with more than a whiff of early Birthday Party to it.
The final pair of Phil and Phyllis Philler and Swing Flesh ensures the EP’s high never dipped. The first has the body bouncing as the senses cower before its citric assault, both eagerly taking a breath within the song’s post rock nurtured lulls which bring the imagination further into play whilst its successor is a visceral fingering of psyche and anatomy. Its skeletal dance is irresistible, the rhythmic animation addictive, and sonic mutation bewitching; the perfect end to a moment of creative voracity.
Lower Automation powerfully announced its arrival with the psychotic frenzy of the acclaimed Maps, now they have not only underlined their presence but declared themselves an essential proposition with one of the year’s musts in Shoebox Companion.
Shoebox Companion is available now @ https://lowerautomation.bandcamp.com/album/shoebox-companion
http://lowerautomation.com/ https://www.facebook.com/lowerautomation https://twitter.com/lowerautomation
Pete RingMaster 13/08/2018
Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright
The following Revers de l’aube has a far darker air from which a rhythmic web swiftly entangled ears and appetite, Destal in two songs already proving his craft a dynamic and deviously compelling aspect within the Varsovie sound. The track envelops the imagination like a frenetic fusion of The Three Johns and The Birthday Party pulled into the distinct individuality of Destal and Catherina; the result an incitement just as enslaving as its predecessor and one soon matched by the darkly lit Va dire à Sparte. More controlled in urgency as emotive and physical shadows align vocal and melodic intimation, the track prowls ears whilst all the time enticing eager attention especially with guitars, bass, and its instinctive drama.
The opener remains the pinnacle of the release but is seriously harassed throughout with next up Young Blood needing little time to seduce and pervert ears and imagination. Ravishing the senses like a defiled fusion of Rob Zombie, Arthur Brown, and The Stooges, the track is wired rock ‘n’ roll as off-kilter as it is skilfully woven to invade and trespass the psyche. Deceptively catchy it is aural loco, a ruinous psych rock invasion infecting the listener like radiation.
Its partner, Trembling Sky is instantly a less intense proposition, a psych rock melody dancing over the darker hues of bass and again grumbling riffs. There is a Doors-esque air to the song, a shadowed lining to its lively spirit and bounce, and a sixties instrumental tone to the guitars which only adds to its instinctive attraction. As its predecessor, the song just hits personal wants and tastes full on though at two and a half minutes or so it frustrates when it ends just as lust rises.
The exceptional start is swiftly followed by the fuzzier venture of Back In The Room, a track rolling on hypnotic rhythms and fizzing upon the senses with its three guitar pronged shuffle. The dual attack of vocals is just as magnetic, a collusion resourcefully driving the volatile proposition with a hint of The Birthday Party adding to its arousing shadows and increasingly rabid head. The song is part nagging dirge and part raw but multi-textured seduction united in a thorough captivation which eventually makes way for the gentler climate of Calenture Boy which smuggles its increasing delirium through ears while a smouldering climate is equally blessed with a sonic psychosis which sizzles with increasing heat second by second.
The EP opens with the outstanding Cross Your Heart, a slice of virulent temptation working away at ears and imagination from its first breath. Swiftly, there is a familiarity to the band’s sound yet as suggested earlier, it is woven into a boldness of invention belonging to The Devil In Faust. Like a blend of Flesh For Lulu and Clan of Xymox with a touch of Southern Death Cult and 1919, the track strolls in with a seductive shimmer around rhythmic incitement. Pritchard’s potent voice is soon in the midst of the compelling bait, directing the virulence with his distinctive tones as his guitar spins a web of chords and hooks. Quickly infectious and increasingly virulent, the track has attention in its creative palms in no time, physical participation enticed soon after.
Recorded with Michael Whalley (Mums, Kong, Bipolar Sunshine), Rattle simply explodes on the senses as opener My Pet Rihanna unleashes its sonic tirade. Within the clamour though, a virulent groove is forming, escaping and driving the song from thereon in as vocals clash and collude in noisy emotion while guitars and bass flare up and seductively groan respectively alongside each other. There is an inner calm in the turbulence too, a magnetic lure which breeds monotone vocals alongside the established outcry in a reflection of the dark touch of bass. There is no escaping the air of the previously mention Brighton band and at times there is a touch of fellow Brit up ‘n’ comers like The Droppers Neck and The St Pierre Snake Invasion too, but the track swiftly breeds its own identity.
It’s impressive and gripping presence is matched in might by the album’s title track next. From its initial grouchy growl in metallic riffs and bass lures, the song has ears and thoughts thickly involved with an intimidating creative theatre and emotive exploration. It gently nags and openly immerses the senses in a slightly corrosive but engaging proposal, everything about it a skilful and imaginative merger of contrasts. Rhythms are irritable yet rousing, melodies poetic against almost ravenous sonic atmospherics, and Chvasta’s beguiling voice the descriptive haven within a tempestuous climate and raw wind.
An outstanding start is still eclipsed by its successor Lovesick, a song which plays second fiddle to no one. From its beguiling dark rock ‘n’ roll strum, the song canters along with a devilish swing led by another highly flavoursome throaty bassline and catchy riffery matched by flirtatious beats. Think The Birthday Party meets Helldorado and Tones on Tails as a clue to the track’s virulent alchemy; a song with as much fascinating drama as it has addictive infectiousness. Its exceptional incitement is as good as matched by that of 