Uncompromising in sound and uncompromising in delivery: it’s a mantra that the noisiest of rabbles stick to. Chicago’s meth. are no different. Sporting a band name that is as gritty and caustic as the music they make, it comes as no surprise that their latest offering SHAME is an excursion into the dark realms of human emotion backed with instruments that mine the deepest trenches of sound.
It’s easy to take meth. at face value as a deliberately in-your-face project. They no doubt serve an absolutely hard as nails cavalcade of shouty nose and tom-pummelling (most notably in Blind Animal, their offering to Jeremy Bolm’s exceptional 2023 screamo / grind compilation Ballads, Redefined), but there’s method and meaning to the callousness. Despite the cheery promotional photos that back SHAME (smiling faces and flowers no less), the overlying theme tells of vocalist Seb Alvarez’s experiences dealing with a previously undiagnosed bipolar disorder diagnosis, as well as the titular notion in various guises.
Catholic guilt and alcoholism lies behind the strained voices that emerge from the dungeons on every cut. As if calling from the back of a crowd, making out clamours such as “obsolete!” alongside more muffled and incomprehensible yells on Doubt are enough to convey Alvarez’s outpouring; it strikes like a bludgeon. Screams attach themselves to instrumentals that stretch for lengthy passages to emphasise feelings of isolation, repetitive ruts, struggle and locked-in mind states through constant low end guitar churning. Opening SHAME’s 8-track journey just so, it’s evident that impending doom is the inevitable one-way street and meth.’s trope of repeating ideas to hypnotic effect is the perfect device to achieve this. The rhythm section, in crude but evocative terms, are reminiscent of the Isengard Orcs burning trees and fashioning iron; it’s workmanlike with the perfect malicious intent.
Not that they don’t break the cycle. Compulsion’s black-metal semitone runs and squeals are banshee-like, thundering headfirst toward a rough and tumble conclusion. For all the whiz-bang grindcore bands that stuff extremities into sub-minute bursts, meth. instead patch these elements within wholly encompassing atmospheres. Their tug-and-release approach is most obvious on Cruelty, epic soundscape closer Blackmail and the title track, featuring an elastic bass slide mid-section, given plenty of room to showcase its bopping potential.
Give In, with its longer length, plots its way through a (strangely) reserved start, siren sounds, and a signature groove that flits in and out from the hands of Andrew Smith, whose kitwork is a characteristic driving pulse for the record. Blackbeats naturally strike when called upon. Yet album highlight Blush even exhibits prog-metal drum flourishes at the two-minute mark by playing around with sharp time signature changes to break up the drone of the opening tracks. Hymnic while they are, more literally is Blush’s ominous almost-Gregorian chants leading to possibly the most levelling, gruesome song conclusion 2024 will unveil, even at this early stage.
An abrasive grindcore band baring everything with purpose (both in the noise and lyrical sense) is never going to be for everyone. Nor will a band called meth. be. But through their own act of purging personal demons, doubt and aggression with this kind of expression, it’s an experience that will long stick with you after the final crumbling curtain call. Grating noise is music to many’s ears and this quintet has grown into one of its finest purveyors.
For fans of: For Your Health, .gif from god, Full of Hell
‘SHAME’ by meth. is released on 2nd February on Prosthetic Records.
Words by Elliot Burr
