Month: April 2020

Chicago’s Melkbelly have been through a lot since the release of their last album, Nothing Valley (the death of a close friend of the band, for one), but they haven’t succumbed to the pressures of stress, political theatre, or Madison Avenue. They’ve instead channeled that fidgeting anger and restless energy into an excellent new album – PITH.

The album was recorded with a lot of vintage microphones and Moog synths, as well as Melkbelly’s signature fuzz guitars and panicked drumming. Opener “THC” is about trying to make up for past wrongs with a friend, but failing at every turn. The song’s fuzz sways back and forth as James Wetzel‘s drums roll around like a grizzly bear scratching its back. Liam Winters‘ bass on “Sickengly Teeth” is as heavy as a battleship anchor. It’s a song about keeping a smile and speaking nice when you want to be cruel and lash out. Wife-husband duo Bart and Miranda Winters go guitar gonzo on the track.

The first single off the album, “LCR,” follows it, and it’s sort of a response to the previous track. Miranda Winters sings, “Her teeth were coated slick and sweetly, so thick that it was deafening. I cannot hear above the sugar, but I can watch your mouth move.” The opening riffs of “Little Bug” are straight metal and then morph into shoegaze chords. The lyrics are about someone Miranda Winters can’t get off her mind.

“Humid Heart” has Ms. Winters emerging from a hot relationship to find everyone else has left while she was enthralled with her last obsession (“Now nobody I like is left here. No one that I like’s left around.”). Wetzel’s drum fills are particularly impressive on this track. Liam Winters’ bass is the driving force of “Kissing Under Some Bats,” in which Ms. Winters trash talks people who come to shows and not pay attention to the band (among others). The track builds to a wild tidal wave of distortion and hammering beats.

“Season of the Goose” has Wetzel’s snare taking front and center as Ms. Winters sings more lyrics about heat. Heat, humidity, and arid environments are a prominent theme on PITH. Sometimes the heat is so bad that it’s choking (“Now’s the season when it hurts me to breathe. Did I burn you up?”). It’s all allegorical, of course, and we’re left thinking that the heat Melkbelly is feeling is from stress or the oppressive nature of everyone and everything having to be in our faces all the time.

The dangerous guitars of “Mr. Coda” reflect the dangerous nature of the song’s protagonist (“I showed up with a face and a set of walk-myself legs. Damn gams, can you handle this shit?”). “Stone Your Friends” slows down, but just a bit, to tell a tale of feeling uncomfortable around people who are supposed to be your friends.

“Water, water and me. Speak less, but still say a lot,” Ms. Winters sings on “Take H20.” Is she trying to tame the heat she’s been feeling throughout the whole record (and, I’m guessing, the six-month recording process of the album)? She won’t have much luck if that’s the case, because the whole song burns like a bonfire.

The closer, “Flatness,” is perhaps the most enigmatic song on the album. “I don’t have the patience to understand the shape of flatness,” Ms. Winters sings as she wanders through a field high grass and weeds early in the morning. Is she trying to wrap her head around something metaphysical, or a wide open space where a relationship used to be? It reminds me a bit of some of L7‘s slower tracks that bubble with distortion and barely suppressed power.

PITH is an impressive follow-up to Nothing Valley, and that album was already a blast furnace of Chicago garage-punk. PITH is a brick of Black Cat firecrackers thrown into that furnace.

Keep your mind open.

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