by Matty McPherson (@ghostplanetmatt)
If there's a cut in the great recesses of music that planted the roots for YHWH Nailgun's 45 Pounds, it's likely Liquid Liquid's “Belle Had.” I felt this after repeatedly revisiting the most exciting 86 seconds I'd heard all year, the “Sickle Walk” single. "Tightrope" barely articulates the razor-delicate velocity Sam Pickard's drums urge this cut to proceed at. It's one entirely built on a future funk minimalism that's both the New York of yore & now; early electro cowbell, Zack Borzone's vocals akin to a wounded animal, and unnervingly ominous bass pulses that I supposed Jack Tobias is laying down. Saguiv Rosenstock's guitar is texture-oriented and hums like an angry fridge, another peculiar ingredient that keeps the canvas from being overbearing. A Jackson Pollock sketch of simmering rage that seems to loudly whisper "come closer, we're cool.”
YHWH Nailgun’s Ramp Local EPs also achieves qualifiers like this. And they slotted nicely next to Godcaster's all-out assault and the dexterity of Tomato Flower's pop, while also being economic giggers across New York City. Now their debut, 45 Pounds, arrives as a Rorschach test of an album. Touchpoints brim; they practically overflow. So much so that it's on the listener to figure if this is something wholly new, or the sum of its parts. YHWH Nailgun make the kinds of albums that oftentimes reflect more on what you desire and whether you trust your ears enough to lead you there. A most rare and peculiar commodity, and perhaps a strong contender for the real early 2024 rock album to have an opinion on.
45 Pounds is just enough of a brevity-laden shock (10 tracks, 21 minutes, 3/5ths already out before release) purposely designed to evoke opinion & movement. For as much as I hear a bastard form of US Maple's unkempt language, Animal Collective/Liars/Battles/Fang Island/Hella polyrhythms, a late 2010s NIN (and early Black Midi for that matter), and 2020s noise rockers like Model/Actriz and FACS, I keep coming back to “Bell Head” as the realest ancillary for what's going on here. The sound of Liquid Liquid grooved, yet was an open book reflecting anything in the present, a flow state that was tapped into the scene and sounds of its place. Here, YHWH Nailgun’s true blue free-funk—in the most militant manner—refracts through the present moment. It's especially apparent on the final three cuts, the aforementioned “Sickle Walk,” “Blackout,” and “Changer,” where trance characteristics suddenly surge from the tight musicianship.
Like Liquid Liquid, YHWH Nailgun has an economical prowess that bases everything around drums. Yes, I've heard the way Rosenstock's guitar slashes through in a technicolor frenzy and nauseous Lovesliescrushing loops. It's character caught somewhere between early Swans pain wails and the Wilhelm scream FACS’ Brian Case plays on his jazzmaster. Pickard is the Animal, spurting rhythms attuned to a body in catatonic, jerking commando lunges. It helps that the usage of rototoms in his kit also reinforce the bright "goo age" inversions of those tape labels like Orange Milk and Hausu Mountain; novum more so than anachronism. Spasms and unnerved kinetic energy that you'd only think rabid critters or Hyperdub signees were meant to achieve are laid bare for the dancefloor.
All these touchpoints, as much as this energy, earn their 21 minutes here. 45 Pounds is all idea without any clear sight of the ceiling. But this kind of sequencing can end up sounding like one omnibus idea played out at sitcom length. Yes, the tracks themselves care more about reveling in the musicianship and energy than building and connecting to longer pieces or sustained attacks. This raw minimalism has not been shown to build to full-blown constructivist status and claw itself from the speakers to your throat. But maybe this doesn’t really matter; the time I spent away from 45 Pounds I spent with a Nonesuch Explorer Series, Music for the Shadow Play, a release from Bali. Music for the Shadow Play is 17 minutes with “gendèrs, percussion instruments made from bronze keys suspended over bamboo tube resonators.” It’s a trance state not far removed from what Pickard evokes on percussion, and reorients just what exactly 45 Pounds evoked within me.
It all did leave me wondering, just what does a 5-7 minute YHWH Nailgun cut sound like? And would it keep up the energy with flashy innovation or push towards trance in the dissonance? Maybe the answer lies in the fact they cut it on 45". According to a friend in Sweden, it sounds lovely and its locked groove borderline dares you to accept it as a dance record. I sense the quartet did not do that in haste. Yet, from what chatter I’ve seen, I reckon the best manner of experiencing YHWH Nailgun is really by seeing them live. Oh, and submitting a detailed Rorschach test of what you've just witnessed to your local psychiatrist.