ALBUM REVIEW: Devour – Pharmakon
For all our talk of how “brutal” an album may be, the truth is metal fans grow desensitised to crushing riffs over time – try listening to SLAYER’s entire discography in one go, you’ll be fed up by the time Silent Scream roars out of the speakers. If you’re seeking something that’s unique and unpredictable in its confrontational approach, the sort of album that should be approached with caution because it will leave you drained and unsettled, then look no further than Devour. The fifth release from Margaret Chardiet’s PHARMAKON project is as harsh as anyone acquainted with the experimental noise artist’s output would expect, but the rewards are great if you’re willing to put the effort in.
Exploring themes of self-cannibalism – a metaphor for mankind’s self-destructive tendencies – the album arrives with erratic electronics, coarse feedback, mutated shrieks and grinding percussion in tow, crafting dense soundscapes that may take some patience to appreciate. It’s interesting and not at all surprising that Chardiet has chosen to explore such a bleak and timely theme, and she does so with characteristic despondency – rather than offer poignant glimmers of hope amongst otherwise dark music, she opts for unrelenting, grating music that offers no hints of light at the end of the tunnel.
Recorded live by UNIFORM’s Ben Greenberd, Devour is split into two contiguous sides, each one as opaque and abrasive as music comes. If each of these sides is to be taken as its own disparate movement, then Side A is the sound of a dilapidated but futuristic factory incessantly churning on long after mankind succumbs to its own violent nature. There’s no atmospheric grandeur, no infectious beat, just industrialised pummelling played at an achingly average pace, with warbling yells uncomfortably fluttering across the top, refusing to find their footing – because for those accustomed to heavy music, even discernible growls would be somewhat comforting, if only in their familiarity. It’s clear that these aren’t just bouts of improvised noise, which would surely run the risk of resulting in a sparser atmosphere and more expansive palette – PHARMAKON’s music is constructed specifically to challenge the listener.
Side B, meanwhile, is more measured in its approach, though no less abrasive. Deprivation is altogether hellish, the percussion now sounding more like a distorted death march as Chardiet’s scabrous rants take on a demonic quality and the waves of manipulated noise crawl deeper into cacophonous territories. Two-part closer Pristine Panic/Cheek By Jowl is similarly considered in nature, edging forward with nefarious intentions whilst the panting synths bolster the descent into bleaker and bleaker realms.
It is the vaguely rhythmic pulses of these tracks that keeps them from being nothing but noise, but as each track crawls deeper into more discordant domains, Chardiet gradually ups the ante bit-by-bit, outright daring the listener to turn the album off on the overwhelming final moments of Deprivation and Spit It Out – it’s worth holding out for the factory-floor clangs and pulverising distortion of Self-Regulating System and the gradual trawl through the nightmarish domain of Pristine Panic/Cheek By Jowl, though, which are so blissfully brutal that you can almost feel your ear canals rotting.
A common argument against fizzy drinks is that none of the ingredients are things you would normally ingest, the point being that the finished product simply cannot be healthy for human consumption. And yet, we guzzle them down regardless, because – be honest – would you rather have a monotonous jug of water or a refreshing can of Coke? The music of PHARMAKON is constructed with noisy, inharmonious elements that are inherently unmusical, but would you rather have some generic metal or something truly disconcerting? If crushing grooves and shredding riffs aren’t quite hitting you the way they used to, try the combative power electronics, industrialised clatter and amped-up growls of PHARMAKON. You won’t regret it.
Rating: 9/10
Devour is out now via Sacred Bones.
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