‘Hardcore’, it was once noted by a band, reacting to the scathing verdict delivered by one of our own reviews, ‘is forever’. In parallel, the genre has steadily become a breeding ground for insipid lack of adventure, with bands morbidly recycling riffs and attitudes well past their sell-by date. YET HARDCORE IS FOREVER. The human race is doomed with the promise of an unending well of tasteless HXC bands, and I for one often feel like throwing in the towel. The only thing keeping me from eschewing an essential part of my bathroom apparel is bands like Big Ups, strong as they are with a refreshing take on a decaying genre. Reveal ‘Eighteen Hours of Static’.
As evidenced by the delightfully filthy tones and the sheer noise-overloaded of some of its more chaotic sections, the New York outfit are aficionados of the DIY ethic. The production gives off a distinctive vibe of ‘too many guys in too little a room covered in egg boxes and mouldy posters’ in the best possible way. The album is generously brimming with neurotic energy and an almost tangible passion. Guts are spilt in rage and anguish. Spilt guts are taken as suitable subject for philosophizing. There’s even that weird moment in a depraved night where one dude may or may not have re-eaten that which his stomach had previously expelled. You get it, ‘Eighteen Hours of Static’ is part power, part feeling, part crazy, all awesome.
An almost deranged bass mercilessly envelops opener ‘Body Parts’, a cycle of almost-clean guitars and Galarraga’s possessed screeches that channels some of their weirdest sensibilities. Galarraga has his vocals switch from those Black Francis wails (that perfectly match some of the more Pixies-core tracks, most obviously ‘Wool’) to straight-up talking. By transitioning from one to the other in ‘Gone Black’, his voice literally embodies the ennui he refers to, and explodes in screamed outbursts to suggest the rage such behaviour instills in him. There’s more of that uncorked rage on ‘Justice’; “Everybody says it’s getting better all the time / but it’s bad / so bad”.
As mentioned above, ‘Wool’ shares some of that Pixies swagger and cryptics mix, and its bombastic ending is a catharsis from the restraint. The strangest moment is no doubt the ‘I am a robot’ section of ‘TMI’, a weird stint of almost-comedy in the middle of a downward spiral into twitchy mind loss. What Big Ups provide in healthy doses is fun. Not in the sense that they’re missionaries for fun dispensing, but in the sense that they seem to be having fun, even when they’re sneering at modern society’s failings. Playful insanity in quick-fix doses.
4.5/5
‘Eighteen Hours of Static’ by Big Ups is out now on Tough Love Records.
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Words by James Berclaz-Lewis (@swissbearclaw)
