Album Review
Metz – Metz
For an underground genre punk has seen a recent upheaval of sorts. Although not pushing through into the mainstream (read: charts), every boy in his basement seems to be picking up a guitar and thrashing out violent distorted sounds accompanied by any variation of incomprehensible lyrics. You may argue that this does not sufficiently sum up the overarching purpose of punk rock; traditionally a middle finger to the establishment or the “man”, however in recent years countless divergences of the aforementioned formula have come and gone through the underground scene. As it stands, there does not seem to be any sign of this ending in the near future. It is therefore not only refreshing but also debatably necessary for a release such as the self-titled record from Canadian scuzz-punk trio Metz.
At the core, Metz is a messy record; the vocals fall behind the guitars, the drums continue at an often merciless pace, and the tone only occasionally pushes out of the monotone (‘Sad Pricks’ provides an almost perfect example of modern sludge), yet the overall result is unexplainably polished. Contradictorily, the vibrancy of the record lies in the beauty of the monotony. The middle finger in this instance is generated by the disregard to the norm. Bands push their sound technically and explore off-beat time signatures and distinguishable instrumentation; Metz actively disassociate from these rules in order to conjure a distempered fusion of sound.
Not instinctively punk but certainly appropriating key elements of the traditional genre, Metz deliver a sonic onslaught of enlightening and modern spasmodic musical bursts. Despite following in the fashionable footsteps of their contemporary and harking back to previous musical climates – in this instance the underground 90s scene complete with distortion heavy sludge – Alex Edkins, Hayden Menzies and Chris Slorach have managed to sound incredibly immediate. From the opening moments of lead single ‘Headache’ the listener is pounded by an unexampled wall of sound. It is neighing on impossible to distinguish between the instruments, instead merging together into a sensory barrage. The vocals in particular remain predominately unfathomable behind the layer of distorted guitars, in essence deconstructing the vocals into an equally adulterated mess.
Highlights come quick and fast, be it the pedestrian pace of the untamed ‘Knife in the Water’, the maximum distortion and feedback filled ‘Wet Blanket’ or the more conservative but equally venomous ‘Get Off’. In all cases the band takes the punk fundamentals, distorts them with a genuinely filthy garage sound, and brings it bang up to date. Punk often survives in indie counterparts who use the term to authenticate an often barren soundscape – Metz on the other hand do not use the terminology, instead they embody the notion within an unsurpassed contemporary delivery of sludge and grunge.