Olekranon, {bilial}

To get straight to the point, Olekranon’s {bilial} is every bit as subtle as a storm of roundhouse kicks to the face–and that’s exactly why I like it. You get about 35 seconds to prepare yourself as a feedback whine rises against noise clusters and then Ryan Huber starts hammering away with a relentless, gear-grinding, industrial gnash of aggressive noise, its assault-with-intent-to-kill sensibility upped by heavy metal-quality drums beating you roughly about the head. As it juggernauts along, forcibly dragging you behind it, {bilial} openly flaunts its rock heritage. Listen to “Brng Yvwh” and you’ll hear a definite rock framework; it just happens to be filled with a flesh-stripping mix of caustic noise and anger. A repeating bass run under it all accounts for a lot of the familiarity–like the way you remember the first person who ever punched you in the face. Has to be said that {bilial} can suffer from a bit of sameness, track to track. Huber’s topmost sound, sort of an ongoing scream filtered through five miles of white noise, is always here, always in force. He wisely dials down the intensity here and there, but it’s only so he can crank it back up. “Deka” grinds its way down into an almost relaxed moment, shedding layers of spiky armor, and the moment it’s done the title track kicks the door down and proceeds to beat the living shit out of you sonically. But it’s a beating you may beg for again later. I love this track for its blatant, screaming punk-rock feel–punk rock that’s exponentially overmodulated. “Daisycutter” stands out for its use of battering-ram drums to take control of the sound under one of Huber’s most densely layered waves of noise. Here’s what I truly like about {bilial}: if you’ve got so much as an ounce of rage that you’ve been suppressing, or even a shadow of a primal urge that gnaws at your subconscious, {bilial} is going to find it, tear it out of you and make you look at it. This is a raw, unapologetic, visceral piece of work that doesn’t care whether you like it. It knows you’re feeling it because it’s already chewed its way into you from that first scrape of processed guitar. Volume up, please. All the way up.

Available from Housepig.

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