Rocker (feedbot)
Platinum Member
The world has changed a lot in the two years since Pupil Slicer’s last album. And given the band’s claim that “all of the worst things to happen to the human race have been caused by its own members,” the time that has passed wouldn’t appear to have incubated much optimism amongst the London three-piece. It is of expected consequence, then, that the sounds of societal woe fuel Pupil Slicer’s latest album.
‘Fleshwork’ deals with difficult issues. It is an album that is lyrically underpinned by the mistreatment of minority groups and the inherent societal inequity that results, with an accompanying sonority that is every bit as bleak as vocalist Kate Davies’ lyrics. Filtered through the band’s mathcore leanings, the results represent a significant step towards Pupil Slicer defining a sound that embodies their influences while eschewing accusations of mimicry.
It is important that they do this, too. Comparisons to The Dillinger Escape Plan and Botch are unavoidable for a band like Pupil Slicer. Further accusations of derivative songwriting were therefore understandable, albeit harsh, in the aftermath of the band’s somewhat one-dimensional debut album. A more melodic second album began the process of expanding auditory horizons. Beyond this threshold lies ‘Fleshwork’ – a career-best release for Pupil Slicer.
The album brings with it a new full-time member; Luke Booth’s impenetrable bass fortifying several of the album’s instrumentally dense highlights. Above this sits a canopy of interweaving musical vines, themselves interlocking with Davies’ vocals; perhaps the most intense they’ve ever been.
While not the dizziest of mathcore albums, ‘Fleshwork’ wisely limits the melodic influences that infiltrated the band’s previous album, instead favouring ascending guitar leads that, while often undercut by a thunderously mixed rhythm section, lead to a nonetheless disorienting experience.
These subtle touches are the curious ingredient. ‘Heather’ would be an unremarkable, if consummate, opener were it not for the oddly playful riff that swoons above the chaos. A similar approach is adopted to produce the eddying guitar playing heard throughout the more complex ‘Sacrosanct’, which confounds with its unpredictably stop-start structure. Conversely, it is the depths of Booth’s bass and the fluidity of drummer Josh Andrews that powers ‘Gordian’; the trio sounding refined despite the music’s velocity.
‘Black Scrawl’ is a particularly impressive effort at surrendering musical inhibitions without sacrificing instrumental deftness. Note perfect surgical precision prevents a tipping of the scales, with Pupil Slicer riding the edge of control in a way that genuinely thrills. In these moments, ‘Fleshwork’ exudes a visceral excitement – for an album that is lyrically grounded in the brutal realism of society’s ills, there is something strangely mischievous about the wildness of these performances.
The less enthralling moments arrive when Pupil Slicer take things in that more melodic direction, as they do on both the title track and ‘White Noise’; each of which is encumbered by an element of predictability that momentarily dims the album’s spark.
A more successfully tuneful endeavour arrives in the form of ‘Cenote’ – the album’s ambitiously long closer that progresses through passages borrowed from the ferocity of black metal. Here, the band are also at their most creative in terms of production choices, working with a dynamic range that, at its quietest, renders Andrews’ drumming as little more than a distant portent of the striking conclusion that follows.
To make an album like ‘Fleshwork’ demands a clear focus, as well as an almost business-like approach to instrumental dexterity. Pupil Slicer have always excelled at the latter. Here, however, the band’s greatest strength is the former. Pupil Slicer have struck that hard-to-strike balance, leveraging their experience while remaining unafraid to be experimental.
BEN WILLIAMS
‘Fleshwork’ deals with difficult issues. It is an album that is lyrically underpinned by the mistreatment of minority groups and the inherent societal inequity that results, with an accompanying sonority that is every bit as bleak as vocalist Kate Davies’ lyrics. Filtered through the band’s mathcore leanings, the results represent a significant step towards Pupil Slicer defining a sound that embodies their influences while eschewing accusations of mimicry.
It is important that they do this, too. Comparisons to The Dillinger Escape Plan and Botch are unavoidable for a band like Pupil Slicer. Further accusations of derivative songwriting were therefore understandable, albeit harsh, in the aftermath of the band’s somewhat one-dimensional debut album. A more melodic second album began the process of expanding auditory horizons. Beyond this threshold lies ‘Fleshwork’ – a career-best release for Pupil Slicer.
The album brings with it a new full-time member; Luke Booth’s impenetrable bass fortifying several of the album’s instrumentally dense highlights. Above this sits a canopy of interweaving musical vines, themselves interlocking with Davies’ vocals; perhaps the most intense they’ve ever been.
While not the dizziest of mathcore albums, ‘Fleshwork’ wisely limits the melodic influences that infiltrated the band’s previous album, instead favouring ascending guitar leads that, while often undercut by a thunderously mixed rhythm section, lead to a nonetheless disorienting experience.
These subtle touches are the curious ingredient. ‘Heather’ would be an unremarkable, if consummate, opener were it not for the oddly playful riff that swoons above the chaos. A similar approach is adopted to produce the eddying guitar playing heard throughout the more complex ‘Sacrosanct’, which confounds with its unpredictably stop-start structure. Conversely, it is the depths of Booth’s bass and the fluidity of drummer Josh Andrews that powers ‘Gordian’; the trio sounding refined despite the music’s velocity.
‘Black Scrawl’ is a particularly impressive effort at surrendering musical inhibitions without sacrificing instrumental deftness. Note perfect surgical precision prevents a tipping of the scales, with Pupil Slicer riding the edge of control in a way that genuinely thrills. In these moments, ‘Fleshwork’ exudes a visceral excitement – for an album that is lyrically grounded in the brutal realism of society’s ills, there is something strangely mischievous about the wildness of these performances.
The less enthralling moments arrive when Pupil Slicer take things in that more melodic direction, as they do on both the title track and ‘White Noise’; each of which is encumbered by an element of predictability that momentarily dims the album’s spark.
A more successfully tuneful endeavour arrives in the form of ‘Cenote’ – the album’s ambitiously long closer that progresses through passages borrowed from the ferocity of black metal. Here, the band are also at their most creative in terms of production choices, working with a dynamic range that, at its quietest, renders Andrews’ drumming as little more than a distant portent of the striking conclusion that follows.
To make an album like ‘Fleshwork’ demands a clear focus, as well as an almost business-like approach to instrumental dexterity. Pupil Slicer have always excelled at the latter. Here, however, the band’s greatest strength is the former. Pupil Slicer have struck that hard-to-strike balance, leveraging their experience while remaining unafraid to be experimental.
BEN WILLIAMS