by Kurt Orzeck
Unless Chat Pile tragically re-tread the same bloody tracks as fellow Midwesterner Jackson Pollock, whose cruisin’-for-a-bruisin’ lifestyle ended when he smashed a car into a tree, it may be time to declare that one heavy rock’s best bands are careening toward untouchable status. The latest exhibit supporting this argument that we submit to you, your honor, is Who Loves the Sun, half of which sounds like it was recorded on a cassette recorder in a cement basement and the other half upstairs in a well-appointed dining room that mom prepped because a priest was coming over for din-din.
Compare the sound of Chat Pile’s latest studio album to that of Portrayal of Guilt and/or Nerver, both bands with whom the band at issue here released EPs with in 2021 and 2023, respectively. On second thought, don’t. What Chat Pile pulls off this time around is as ambitious as what Deafheaven did in striking a treatise with black metal and shoegaze. Whether or not Chat Pile’s accomplishment will result in countless copycats – and, yes, seismic change in the heavy-music underground – won’t be known for years to come. That’s just as well, because it don’t matter.
It was only a short seven years ago that the still-intact original lineup of vocalist Raygun Busch, guitarist Luther Manhole, bassist Stin and drummer Cap’n Ron busted out of barns in their hometown of Oklahoma City to assemble Chat Pile. What did the fellas share in common? Really cool parents who decided not to give their kids traditional names (that would be referred to as a “joke”). The critical and underground satisfaction was practically imminent, with Chat Pile drawing heaps of praise for their 2022 debut, God’s Country. Helping bury the phrase “sophomore slump” – which conspicuously (and gratefully) doesn’t come up in conversation anymore about new artists – the Okalidokalies roared back with the even more well-received Cool World two years later. Debates continue to persist about whether Earth Again deserves a place on the trophy shelf of Chat Pile full-lengths, as Chat Pile created it collaboratively with Hayden Pedigo.
After copious commendations, one would’ve expected Chat Pile to keep their mouths shut for a while. But in the strongest sign yet that the quixotic quartet are neither to be underestimated nor to be considered a band that’s only willing to strike while the iron is hot, the self-identified movie nerds declared that Who Loves the Sun was on the way. While that news no doubt titillated fans, this writer – a sucker for lame rhymes – wondered, “Yes, but do they have anything left to say?”
The answer, of course, is yes. Even if Busch appears to be clearing his pipes, there’s simply too much happening in the world – thanks to the tech bros’ cultish devotion to acceleration-ism and Trump’s sick fixation with flooding the zone – to stay silent. In fact, Chat Pile have, in empirical terms, a teensy-weeny bit more to get off their collective chest than they did compared to their inception: the lyrics to God’s Country consisted of 2,043 words compared with Who Loves the Sun’s 2,044 (deducing that fact required about thirty minutes of manual labor on the part of yours truly; fuck AI into oblivion).
Busch shapes his sentiments in dualistic fashion, which falls in line with most of Chat Pile’s snarkily titled release. That technique is also in step with their greatest strength: pitting the utter filth of reality (the underground) against the squeaky-clean sanitized world (the above ground). Even those of us who don’t live in New York can relate to the clash of civilizations. As Busch espouses on “Deep Blue”:
Landfill has crept into our home
Demons are dancing in the halls of empty domes
Washed away beneath the chemical dirt
Might be a bug now but I still gotta get to work
But he then takes the dichotomy a step further, observing in the same song that time is running out for the oblivious to continue to voluntarily vacation in the denial-filled, sunny, cool world operated by techno-fascists:
Even though you know
The clock is ticking down
No more lives to live
The time to act is now
But that could never be
You move deeper into screens
Into the deep blue sea
You move deeper into screens
Obviously — c’mon, would you be reading this review if you didn’t already know this? — Chat Pile’s view of the current and future state of the world isn’t just bleak but cataclysmic. So why does the band manage to draw legions of fans? For one, they commiserate with us over what we all know will precipitate the apocalypse if it does in fact arrive. For another, Busch not only provides thoughtful instruction for those who are spinning in circles and don’t know how to orientate themselves in this cool cold world (“Don’t let them tell you no one will miss you/ Forget what you know and let the skull teach you,” he says on “Shrine”).
Most of all, with Who Loves the Sun, they have now cemented themselves as the best noise-rock band in existence (at least, among those fans of the genre broadly know about). Find a raging thumper that can outdo the likes of the pricelessly titled “PEN I S MALL,” the rocket-propelled “Influence,” the searing “Family Funeral” or a better opening song on any recent noise-rock record than “Creature,” and my editor will buy you a cookie [editors note: untrue].