by Selina Yang (@y_aniles)
Something arises from hell, attempting to crawl its way into heaven – only to find that the god is just as terrifying. Nerver and Chat Pile are bonded by blood on their 2023 split EP, Brothers in Christ. Hailing from Missouri and Oklahoma, among the plains it’s impossible to ignore titanic billboards that scream “HELL IS REAL”. Nor is it possible to ignore the landscape’s urban and natural ruin, so that even colorful depictions of heaven and hell are an escape from the dilapidation of one’s home.
Under the guise of a sludge rock record, Brothers in Christ is a delirious search for meaning, whether that’s through finding a god or losing yourself. Together, these four tracks are a decline into hysteria. Opening the EP, Nerver’s cinematic tracks set the stage for flamethrowers and brimstone. Nerver kicks ass, making Chat Pile’s entrance seem subdued in comparison. The contrast is a pivotal move that highlights Chat Pile’s disturbed introspection, where reality is scarier than any horror film.
Nerver’s first two tracks send one reeling. Churning bass lines grab by the ankle, dragging the listener down into boiling waters. On “Kicks in the Sky,” the guitar maintains a steady discord through chugging bass lines. The vocals only hint at harmonizing at the very end, similar to the break in sanity when you’re deliriously tired and find everything hilarious. Between drum rolls, Nerver even writes in winks to the devil's chord, an augmented fourth chord banned by medieval churches.
“The Nerve” immediately bodies you with a wall of thrash, with guitars that blare like the trumpets of war. Nerver’s presence is angry, as is characteristic of hardcore, noise rock, and sludge metal. You can picture the windmill of long hair as the guitarists shred, but it is also bright, acting as the climactic fight scene to the slow agony of Chat Pile. This exaggeration of reality through guitars fends off what true silence means. Like the ear splitting cries of a newborn, making noise is an insistent protest to keep on living.
As Nerver’s guitars spiral to an epic conclusion, Chat Pile’s vocals are that of someone hitting rock bottom in real time. While Chat Pile’s previous album God’s Country recounted narratives of real-world atrocities, “King” and “Cut” find their horror from their closeness: taking you into internal monologues that are a little too realistic. “King” begins with thoughts familiar to anyone plagued by overthinking, as “It’s probably what you’re thinking, honestly,” only to decide later through slurred words that “I don’t want you”. Repeatedly wailing “I don’t care, I don’t care,” it almost sounds like a sick pop song parody.
With repetition, the lyrics’ simplicity is reminiscent of doom scrolling, with thoughts lost in brain fog and futile attempts at denial. After the despair of “King,” the track “Cut” teases a tone change with hesitant guitar plucks, only to fall back to Chat Pile’s heavy cascades. When the narrator in “Cut” celebrates finding God’s voice in a woman, it is unclear whether the intensity is from ecstasy or pain, or, whether the lyrics reflect religious guilt, where “God’s voice cut me” from the desperation of desire.
At all times, Nerver and Chat Pile push in a constant momentum, pummeling forward. As a result, the touches of quiet pauses reveal anxious tension that could break down at any second, as if scared to reveal something behind the curtain of sound. That is, scared to see what is on the other side of life.