Band:	Chat Pile
Album:	God's Country
Style:	Noise rock, Sludge metal
Release date:	July 2022

01. Slaughterhouse
02. Why
03. Pamela
04. Wicked Puppet Dance
05. Anywhere
06. Tropical Beaches, Inc.
07. The Mask
08. I Don't Care If I Burn
09. Grimace_smoking_weed.jpeg

If someone came up to me and asked my opinion on God’s Country, I would struggle through a profanity-filled rambling about the scorching sun and our disgusting society. I would then pause before whispering to myself, “I gotta get the fuck outta here, man”.

Let me elaborate. After all, this is one of my favorite albums of the year.

Surely, like most of you, I discovered Chat Pile through the Clandestine Cuts issue that included the band’s second EP, Remove Your Skin Please. And maybe I could recycle the text on that review. I could mention the absolute perfect marriage between post-punk and metal that Chat Pile creates. God’s Country sounds like Swans’ groundbreaking Filth, but played with sludge metal guitars and a buzzy bass that scratches death metal territories. This is the kind of music where the drums, bass, guitars, and vocals all matter equally. They are all connected and pull the strings of tension. Perhaps I should also mention how Raygun Busch sings like a total madman. A terrifying vocal delivery that, besides the aforementioned Swans, also takes some inspiration from Daughters and even Godflesh. The whole product just, ehm. Urgh.

Wait. Hold on. Wait. Wait a minute. No. No. Stop it! Argh, why the hell did I stop smoking? Fuck, I can’t stop shaking.

Sorry, but this album gets under my skin. Some sections sound relatively normal, like on “Anywhere”, where the chorus at first sounds like a more unhinged Nirvana in their Bleach-period, but then the music grows and grows, erupting into an explosion of anger. But it’s far from one-dimensional. You can feel it even in the quieter moments. In the surreal melodies that die out as the riffs come crashing down. This anger is fiercely aimed towards very real horrors, though. Depression, mental disorders, the corporate world or social injustices. It doesn’t even need to be sophisticated criticism for the band to get the message across. “Why” is a track that simply asks why people have to live outside. “Why?! We have the resources. We have the means. Why?!” Raygun Busch’s screams stick to you like glue.

There is a brief pause amidst the sonic terror. But I warn you, “I Don't Care If I Burn” is suffocating, like all the other tracks. It’s impressive how they can keep the tension going with so little going on. Absolute depravity. I was just looking for some peace, man. But then the last track crushes me into a pulp with corrosive riffs and the decaying mind of the singer going through a drug-triggered panic attack. The way he keeps on screaming reminds me of the mental ending on Godflesh’s “Locust Furnace”.

This is not an album you enjoy as much as you just experience it. It is taxing on the mind and body. But oh boy do I feel alive after it. I feel, ehm, urgh. I really need to get the fuck outta here, man.