The musical landscape of Atlanta is littered with aggressive output, but few records act as a true conductor for disgust like GOLD., the long-awaited full-length debut from noise rock heavyweights, Whores. While the band has landed a snazzy new home at indie giant eOne Music, one could surmise that their road to national visibility has been far from glamorous.
The group has suffered multiple personnel changes since their formation in 2010, but Whores. has managed to persevere due to two impossibly strong EPs and the white-knuckled determination of guitarist and vocalist Christian Lembach at the helm. GOLD. surges with pent-up aggression as if a lightning rod for Lembach’s frustrations. Every tone-defiling note and throat-scrambling howl represents an act of sheer will imposed upon the listener.
The record bursts from the gate with “Playing Poor,” a scorched earth missive driven by Casey Maxwell’s frenzied hammer-on bass work. The song alternates between a breakneck pace and staggered snare hijinks before building to a pummeling conclusion courtesy of Donnie Atkinson’s stellar drumming. The title of the song plays on the phrase “working poor” and illustrates the cruel joke of modern success in music (“Where’s the money? Where’s the fame? I was told by now they’d know my name”). Lembach echoes these sentiments throughout the album, both mocking and lamenting his own decision-making, while recognizing that as committed lifer, he’s long past the point of no return.
Without pause the band swings into the sonic gut punch of “Baby Teeth” where masterfully controlled feedback adds a jarring physicality to rabidly barked grievances such as “The pills don’t work / My back still hurts / I was told they fixed all my bones.” Lurching into Helmet style mid-tempo minimalism, “Participation Trophy” burns slow with Atkinson’s huge drum tones beating a path for this stripped-down banger. On a side note, a very well-placed flash of 8-bit glitch during the guitar transition provides one of those thoughtful little details that lure you into the jaws of this record — and incidentally made my otherwise shitty day tolerable.
Next up, “Mental Illness as a Mating Ritual” finds the band in its closest orbit to more mainstream rock material, delivering a catchy, hip swingin’ jam that could easily translate into crossover appeal. I predict you’ll hear this song on a Madden NFL game in two or three years. Tunneling into the meat of the album, we hit “Ghost Trash,” which shines with a furious bass line before leaning hard into stoner rock territory. This trend continues over the next two songs with “Charlie Chaplin Routine” and “Of Course You Do” bouncing with fuzzed out, straightforward, no bullshit stoner riffs. If you hadn’t picked up on a Songs of the Deaf era QOTSA influence already, these tracks should leave little doubt.
Meanwhile, “I See You Are Also Wearing a Black T-Shirt” takes on the mortal condition with uncompromising honesty. Driving grunge riffage slams home the ego-shredding lines: “Tiny little man / tiny little town / tiny little life / and a hole in the ground.” Elsewhere, the noisy and spastic “Bloody Like the Day You Were Born” receives a fresh treatment after first appearing on Volume 13 of Amphetamine Reptile’s compilation series Dope, Guns, and Fucking in the Streets. Eerie, verbed-out telecaster bends, unhinged energy, and dynamic structuring make this track my personal favorite. It sounds fun to play, and when you’re able to create that sort of impact through recorded material, you know you’ve done something right.
Lastly, closer “I Have a Prepared Statement” marches the album inexorably towards its speaker-busting firing squad. The minimal yet punishing riff crashes overhead for most of its duration as Lembach revels in self-annihilation. Lyrics and sound are expertly fused to paint the picture of a man deliberately sinking his own ship. After being beaten and bloodied, a note of triumph and peace can be found within the closing lines: “Float out into the water / I sink / I’m gone / I’m free.” As the final notes fade, the record melts into ambience like sunlight dancing down upon its watery grave.
On the surface, GOLD. serves as a wealth of guitar annihilation destined for heavy rotation among noise rock enthusiasts. However, the real meat of this album is found in the cold reality of life as a musician in the digital age. “Participation Trophy” offers the listener this unflinching admission: “You can call it a trophy / I call it only the hole I poured my life into.” The music industry has failed miserably to adapt to technological changes. While visibility has been democratized to a degree, the prospect of living off one’s art is now barred by an extremely high threshold. The truly devoted should not be discouraged, but maybe come to grips with maintaining a day job amidst whatever accolades you may garner. This sick joke is not lost on Whores. With tongues in cheek and fuzz pedals dimed out, they have hoisted their trophy above their heads. It’s a golden trash can, and goddamn it sounds good.
GOLD. is available now via eOne Music.
Whores. will perform tonight at the Masquerade (Hell) in support of Red Fang and Torche. Doors open at 7 p.m. Admission is $16. All Ages.
More Info
Bandcamp: whores.bandcamp.com
Facebook: @whrsband
Instagram: @whoresband
Twitter: @whoresbandatl