by Benji Heywood (@benjiheywood)
There’s a moment two-thirds of the way into nature morte, BIG|BRAVE’s latest compelling composition of experimental heavy music, when the fog of feedback lifts, the pummel of drums subsides, and vocalist Robin Wattie cries out as if from the bottom of a deep abyss, “I am the one who wants you more/ I am the one who needs you most.” It’s a breathtaking snapshot as much for its vulnerability as it is for Wattie’s melodic command, which shines throughout the Montreal band’s exemplary fourth album. Knowing the line comes during the song “the fable of subjugation” contextualizes its meaning in a particularly dissonant way. “It is violent and terrible,” says Wattie of the trauma of feminine subjugation the song addresses. “It is crushing and alarming. It is common and basic. It is catastrophic and disheartening.”
While violent and crushing may aptly describe BIG|BRAVE’s musical output, the music of nature morte is anything but common and basic. It’s a credit to Wattie, who also plays guitar, drummer Tasy Hudson, and guitarist Mat Ball that their reliably nuanced approach to heavy music, honed over the last decade, never feels stale. In fact, their on-a-dime turns from disquieting distortion-laden soundscapes to utter sonic pulverization have never felt more compelling. Despite loud-soft dynamics having been a staple of heavy music for decades, no one does it quite like BIG|BRAVE and on nature morte, the band pushes this aesthetic to its limit, yielding the best album of their career.
The album’s success is in part due to the “guitar playing” of Mat Ball. “Guitar playing” is in quotes because those words conjure something misleading in the average person. Rather than a traditional strum methodology, Ball’s approach to the guitar is highly interactive with its environment, allowing waves of distortion to refract and respond to the amp in the room. At times, Ball sounds like he’s physically grappling with the sound his guitar makes. His playing blooms rather than bursts, more orchestral than it is rhythmic, creating microtonal harmonies amidst a bonfire of feedback. Listening to nature morte and Ball’s equally exciting solo album from last year, Amplified Guitar, it’s clear Ball’s “guitar playing” has more in common with Leo Stokowski than Tony Iommi.
That’s not to say BIG|BRAVE doesn’t have riffs. They do. They just make you wait for ‘em. Consider album opener, “carvers, farriers, and knaves,” which starts in medias res. By time the mammoth riff unleashes in the song’s third minute, the tightrope tension they’d built – compounded by Wattie’s voice careening to the very edge of shattering – is nearly unbearable. The riff is no easy way out. Led by Hudson’s thumping drumming, the band sounds on the verge of catharsis but never quite allows us to get there.
Aided by producer Seth Manchester’s deft hand and the band’s willingness to record essentially live at the prestigious Machines with Magnets, nature morte feels vibrant and dangerous despite retaining their trademark tightness as a three piece. Throughout the album, Wattie and Hudson sound telekinetically connected, with Wattie’s picking hand seemingly possessed by Hudson’s kick pedal. Any time Hudson slams the kick drum, Wattie slams the guitar. When Hudson thunderclaps the toms, Wattie digs into the strings. All the while, Ball’s guitar screeches and squalls. The effect is ritualistic, feverish, and deliriously Pentecostal.
Credit Wattie, whose vocals have never before been quite the focal point they are here. The performance on nature morte is commanding, emotionally ecstatic, and utterly heartrending. On “the one who bornes a heavy load,” Wattie’s bloodcurdling call see-saws between a massive riff, harmonized by Ball’s banshee feedback. It’s a standout moment, an apex of the album. BIG|BRAVE have always galvanized listeners with their aural attack, but Wattie’s show-stopping vocals on nature morte add another layer.
If there was one track that embodies everything of which BIG|BRAVE is capable, it’s “the fable of subjugation.” The songs begins at nearly a whisper, with Ball’s sui generis guitar playing mimicking the pastoral tones of a dulcimer. Wattie sings like a traveling bard from the dark ages while Hudson shakes various percussive elements. When the down-tuned guitars appear, it’s like the arrival of storm clouds on a darkening horizon. A tom-tom beat gallops from the fray, leaving the big open chords to churn and swell, feedback reverberating behind Wattie’s desperate screams before exploding into a riff that hits like a heartbeat. It’s a gorgeous and terrifying moment on an album full of superlative examples of what forward-thinking heavy music can be.