by Elliott Myhre (@edmyhre)
The sounds of the drunks barking to each other on their way to their small apartments, the rattling of the trash cans as the mice run out under your feet, the cars driving by, their wheels turning to haunting echoes that dribble down the streets, collectively becoming a frightening mesh of dilapidated sources that encourage you to only walk down the alleyway faster. YHWH Nailgun’s second release, Magazine, sinks audiences back into that familiar unsettling territory. If you enjoyed the extensive percussion, dizzying synth lines, and haunting vocal howls inside their debut, 45 Pounds, you’ll be happy to find that Magazine is just as bewildering. The sources continue to be nearly indistinguishable, the experience all the more visceral and in-your-face.
“Ghost of Love” starts off with the typical sinister environment established on their last record. The merry-go-round-esque synth and low crackling intermittent bass evokes an inescapable dread as Zack Borzone’s ghoulish scraping vocals hover over the song like a gargoyle (not dissimilar to his onstage persona). On “Hips On A Wheel,” Saguiv Rosenstock continues to take the award for the “Where is the Guitar in this Song?” trophy (in the best way possible). He mangles the guitar like an otherworldly virtuoso, making any bedroom rocker look like a musical caveman in comparison. The driving bassline creates an undeniable tension, giving off this uneasy feeling that you’re supposed to be rushing somewhere while still being planted in place. If anyone was groaning about the absence of the rototoms that were so beloved on 45 Pounds, their worries can quickly be stifled by the overwhelming percussiveness of the title track. Sam Pickard and Borzone create a combination of rhythm and vocal spitting that feels nearly too much to bear, even in the blink-and-you-miss-it length.
Despite the short runtime of this album, nothing feels rushed. Ideas are not extinguished down to 45 second tracks to create some statement piece, rather they are surgically cut to be as impactful as possible. In that regard, Magazine is a major success. What is most admirable about this eleven minute feat of sonic tension is YHWH Nailgun’s ability to be one unshakable thing. This record feels less like a band of people playing their roles in the factory of musical collaboration and more-so a singular force coming right at you. The depth they pack into eleven minutes dispels the notion that this could be any gimmick record, instead touting their musical ability to cast a vexing emotional spell that will stick with anyone who hears Magazine, even if only for its eleven minute runtime.