By Devon Chodzin (@bigugly.bsky.social)
Doom punk noise…meditation? Nashville’s my wall introduces their approach with three words that make perfect sense in combination but a fourth that doesn’t — in what world is noisy, punkish doom meditative? On the quartet’s second album, OVER, my wall finds room for atmosphere to weigh on noise rock, taking what might otherwise come across as unadulterated debauchery and turning it into something truly morbid. With strategic downtuning and bursts of feedback, tracks like “Guts” have the kind of inviting noise of Chat Pile with the dismal eruptions of Thou. Masking punk in a metallic mist, moving the vocals between clean and coarse, and keeping the riffs memorable all advance a nauseating journey between different forms of slow, looming aggression.
Where songs like “Guts” trudge forward slowly, “Evolve” is much more of a scratchy eruption, with chopper-like blasts of tom underlining Pancho Mano’s terrifying shrieks. The guitars oscillate between grooves and chugs, presenting opportunities to headbang or otherwise throw your body into the abyss. When Mano screams “And when the lights go out,” it pierces like a bolt of lightning, only to reveal humanity when he sings “I still like you.” my wall prefers to jump between extremes, showcasing their humanity in between exercises in monstrosity. Flashes of melody lead into extended drone periods on “Work,” encircling listeners in claustrophobic mess that only grows tighter and tighter.
“Lid” emphasizes abstract noise, congealing into an ominous, walking-tempo riff and spectral voice that feels like climbing a narrow staircase in a haunted mansion. The walls give way to a woozy psychedelia, almost like a metallic Cindy Lee, before the guitars rev up for another go-around that, later, falls into a glue trap. my wall are just as menacing when upping the drama on “The Event” as they are composing swirls of incomprehensible sound, proving that the band can competently meander between diverse stylings while maintaining an atmospheric, noisy center. When their riffs evaporate into noise with the occasional drum hit, the effect is profoundly dizzying.
“A.I.” expands the sonic footprint with a locomotive field recording opening the scene, showering the ground with industrial screeches that eventually narrow into a guitar-cum-saxophone drone passage. What was once familiar if disruptive has transformed into something harsh and hypnotic. Never does the song come together into a melodic explosion so much as it falls into the creepy finale “Spider Men,” which switches between minimalism and eruption on a dime. The final bars feel like a brilliant celebration of darkness in motion, with powerful injections of guitar that leap between the depths of hell and upswings that feel like lashing out.
With OVER, my wall stakes out a compelling position between the wobbly, electrifying space of noise rock and the atmospheric, foggy position of sludge metal, making room for abstraction, malevolence, and even uncomplicated beauty. The riffs are weighty and the atmosphere is oppressive, with vocal shrieks and guitar feedback peppered in among flashes of clean singing and melody. As disorienting of a listen as it can be, OVER leans hard enough into wretchedness, broadcasting general malaise and unending frustration over all who listen.