ALBUM REVIEW: the weathervane is my body- Truck Violence
The most obvious comparison in the modern noise rock scene for Montreal’s TRUCK VIOLENCE is Oklahoma’s CHAT PILE. Both bands revel in slow, sludgy riffs with tormented vocals unspooling disturbing narratives that make the listener feel in need of a shower. However, the regional differences are clear in the band’s music. CHAT PILE turns the focus of their audio horror movies into dark-humored lambasting of Middle America, but TRUCK VIOLENCE‘s misery is, fittingly, distinctly more Northern. The use of banjo and elements of Appalachian folk music make their squalls of feedback conjure up monsters in the thick forests of North America, and give them a unique sound that separates them from their peers.
Their album cover of their debut record, the bluntly titled Violence, depicted the corpse of a bear slung into the back of a pickup truck. The music fit the image – abusive, bloody, and heavily rural. The band oscillated from noisy barrages of seething menace to despondent, empty ramblings accompanied only by banjo. Just two years later, their sophomore release, the weathervane is my body, is content to push forward these ideas, but not without indulging in new songwriting ideas that give some evidence of evolution.
Lead single, New Jesus, is as appropriate as a promotional single could be for a band like TRUCK VIOLENCE, a three-minute burst of tense guitars, pained growling, and lamentations of the rise of fascism in the United States. The track is far from stagnant, with a death-metal inspired bridge bolstered by shockingly beautiful lead guitars and a chorus whose groove threatens to collapse into noise at any second. Similarly compact and efficient is Jaundiced and reaching for a mother, which thrashes back and forth into different drum patterns before seizing and collapsing into a relentless breakdown that pounds itself into the dirt.
Most surprising (and welcomely so) are the shockingly tender moments of beauty that allow themselves to emerge within the band’s otherwise frightful racket. After trudging forward for almost four minutes, Compelled by Christy relaxes into an open, post-rock sprawl where mournful guitar and banjo provide a moment of beauty between the chaos. Your name, it’s walking finds a similar pocket towards its middle, where ghostly vocals float out from the background to compliment the slow stomp of the drums and banjo. The band only fully indulges in this sort of rural wonder on closer Kindly, wash yourself where, outside of the occasional scream, the track borders on a sort of beautiful, if gnarled, take on indie rock, with the shrieking guitars taking on a widescreen quality and the vocals morphing into a falsetto croon at just the right moments. These sections, although sparse, provide some deft balance to what could be a very monotone record. It shows the band willing to explore ground that is not just the drudgery of feedback, but a quick moment to stare at the sunset before the caterwauling of night begins and the troubles resume.
If there is any criticism to be had about the record, it does feel a bit too short. Just as we see the band start spreading its wings in intriguing new directions, the record ends at a brief thirty-one minutes. This isn’t wholly unexpected, given the similar length of their debut, but it does feel a bit like the band could have mined some truly great material by allowing themselves to push their songs a little longer, giving their experiments a little more time to marinate. Additionally, while the banjo cuts on the first record were a compliment to the band’s sound (and more novel, given that it was the band’s debut), they feel a bit more aimless here. When your album is as lean as this one is, having two tracks dedicated to the dreary ramblings of minimalist folk that don’t do anything too interesting during their runtime seems like a missed opportunity.
Regardless, this record is another strong effort for TRUCK VIOLENCE. Fans of their first record will definitely have a lot to gain from this one, and noise rock enjoyers of all stripes will certainly find material to chew on. It will be interesting to see if the band continues to push themselves on their third release. The band is clearly committed to their sound, but it is the moments when they allow themselves to diverge a little bit from their usual agony that the magic really happens.
Rating: 7/10
The weathervane is my body is out now via The Flenser/Mothland.
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