
Coward, the sophomore effort from NYC noise-metal unit Made Out Of Babies, wants to bludgeon you to death. It wants to grab you by the throat and pummel you into a bloody smear on the sidewalk. You know you’re in for trouble when the album cover features a highly disturbing photo of an adorable little moppet whose face has been beaten in. Coward is not fucking around.
Made Out Of Babies are a tough nut to crack; they sort of sound like a lot of bands, but with their own frightening je ne sais quoi that makes this album irresistible. Imagine if David Yow was a woman and started a band that sounds like the twisted heathen offspring of The Jesus Lizard, Shellac, and Unsane. The album opens with frontwoman Julie Christmas shredding her larynx and never lets up. Guitarist Brendan Tobin immerses her tortured freak-outs in brutal buzzsaw guitars with a trademark metallic sheen courtesy of producer Steve Albini. The rhythm section throbs and pulses underneath like blood coursing to the site of a grievous bodily injury.
Lots of bands tread in noise-rock waters, and technically Made Out Of Babies aren’t breaking any new ground here. But the band’s assault in combination with Christmas’ schizophrenic growls and whispers are truly a thing of ugly beauty. Her vocals give this album a wonderfully unsettling atmosphere. She’s got a terrific singing voice that’s a bit underutilized, as she seems to favor demented baby-girl shrieks and full-on roars, but she’s always engaging (even when she’s scaring the shit out of you).
This is not an album you put on to rock out to, although it does rock harder than virtually anything I’ve heard this year. It’s not driving around with the stereo turned up type of music, and you can’t really even headbang to it. This is an evil album, the kind of thing you put on when you’re feeling really disturbed. It leaves you with an unnerved feeling in the pit of your stomach. Needless to say, not an album for everyone. But those willing to get beaten to a pulp by Coward might just find they like it… in a sick kind of way.
www.madeoutofbabies.com
www.neurotrecordings.com
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Lucas Salg