by Christopher J. Lee (@joonhai)
Nineties’ noise rock has received something of a minor renaissance over the past several months. Melvins – the second-best band from Aberdeen, Washington, after the trio that recorded “Smells Like Teen Spirit” – has recently celebrated the thirtieth anniversary of Houdini, a highpoint in their catalog, as well as their fortieth anniversary as a band. Following suit, Cherubs, a noise rock band from Austin, has similarly remastered and re-issued its debut, Icing, from 1992. A geographically distant descendant of Melvins, Cherubs is better understood as a more immediate successor to Scratch Acid, a contemporary of The Jesus Lizard (who started in Austin before relocating to Chicago), and a forerunner to …And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead – all of whom are bands that defined noise rock for a time in central Texas.
Originally released by Trance Syndicate, the label established by King Coffey (Jeffrey Coffey) of the canonical Butthole Surfers, Icing is one of only two LPs that Cherubs put out during their abbreviated lifespan during the 1990s, the second being Heroin Man, which also received a reissue in 2017 with Amphetamine Reptile Records. Nonetheless, both albums have garnered an enduring posthumous cult following, as indicated by these re-releases. After an album of B-sides and demos, Short of Popular, appeared in 1996, a long silence ensued, eventually disrupted by the tribute album Everyone’s Dead Before They Leave (A Tribute to The Cherubs), which appeared in 2013. Prompted by this occasion, Cherubs reunited in 2014 to record a new album, 2 Ynfynyty, out in 2015, followed by the LP Immaculada High in 2019. As the Austin Chronicle succinctly summarized in an article from 2014 at the time of their reformation, Cherubs were “short-lived, but influential.”
Like other rock trios of their era, whether Hüsker Dü or Dinosaur Jr., volume mattered to Cherubs – Kevin Whitley (vocals, guitar), Owen McMahon (bass), and Brent Prager (drums) – as a means of avoiding any misimpressions of lack. “Sugary,” the opening track to Icing, starts things off with a relentless guitar and drum onslaught with Whitley screaming inaudible words above the din, the word “sugary” occasionally dropping in to orient the listener as to what song it is. Lyrics are essentially superfluous amid the ambient distortion of music like this. Less hardcore in their pacing than Hüsker Dü and less melodic than Dinosaur Jr., Cherubs prefer to drill down into a methodical, guitar-heavy rhythmic structure as found on signature tracks like “All Chickened Out,” “Half a Rat,” and “Fed.” Other songs like “Come,” “Ginger Upper,” and “Shoofly” allow for Prager’s percussion to breathe and shine through. Their best track on Icing is arguably “Pink Party Dessert” (originally released as a single) which employs a start-stop approach akin to the style of The Jesus Lizard on Goat.
Heroin Man, which unavoidably formed something of a sequel to Icing and an unanticipated swansong for the band in its first iteration, expands the sound established by its predecessor, at once pulling back on some tracks to allow more tension between the guitar and percussion elements (“Dave of the Moon”) while not completely abandoning the dense, sludgy sound they are so proficient at (“Cockpit-Kiss: The Shine”). Some tracks include sampling like crude beatboxing (“Baby Huey”) and the sound of a phone receiver off the hook (“Stag Party”) to mirthful effect. The nine-and-a-half minute closer, “Example Maiden Japan/ Devil’s Food,” is an unrestrained, exploratory noise rock epic that ends the album on an atmospheric note approaching that of “The Sprawl” that finishes side one of Sonic Youth’s seminal double album Daydream Nation. Heroin Man sounds like a band still finding itself, venturing into novel noise/art rock terrain, unfortunately cut short. Regardless, both albums form a couplet, providing a crucial view of an important regional scene through the relatively tight transitional window of the early to mid-1990s.
Though less prominent than the bands mentioned previously, these reissues demonstrate an implacable sound by a trio deserving of more attention. Icing and Heroin Man have aged well. Though more serious (and not as driven by a psychedelic aesthetic) as their erstwhile benefactors, the Butthole Surfers, Cherubs point to how the Texas post-hardcore/noise rock scene cannot be reduced to one band, as famous and indispensable as that band might be. Furthermore, they are still active. Go see them.