Self-proclaimed 'sewer doom' Toronto three-piece IRN
have spewed forth one of the most disturbing and disjointed releases
you're likely to hear this year. Taking their cue from their filthy
forefathers in bands such as Grief, Dystopia and Corrupted, they meld
these influences to create a bile-fuelled slab of uneasy listening that
is unflinching in its aural assault.
The downright intimidating opener 'Adrift Between Burned Out Villages' is an almost 18 minute exercise in separating the wheat from the chaff; if you can survive this track, you can survive anything. Not content to stick to any traditional formula or structure, the track becomes a relentless trawl through every dark recess of heavy music, spanning everything from eerie atonal passages, chiming notes of post-rock prettiness, the clatter and clang of experimental noise, scrambled squeal of guitar torture and even the injection of some almost jazz-like percussive elements and rhythms, all the while maintaining a distinct undercurrent of menace.
Like I say, formulaic they are not.
The downright intimidating opener 'Adrift Between Burned Out Villages' is an almost 18 minute exercise in separating the wheat from the chaff; if you can survive this track, you can survive anything. Not content to stick to any traditional formula or structure, the track becomes a relentless trawl through every dark recess of heavy music, spanning everything from eerie atonal passages, chiming notes of post-rock prettiness, the clatter and clang of experimental noise, scrambled squeal of guitar torture and even the injection of some almost jazz-like percussive elements and rhythms, all the while maintaining a distinct undercurrent of menace.
Like I say, formulaic they are not.
If you fancy surrendering
your mind to the twisted, decrepit sounds found within this album, pick
up a tape from Breathe Plastic as soon as you dare.
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