#body void

Body Void, Atrocity Machine (Prosthetic)

I caught Body Void on their massive tour with Primitive Man, Mortiferum, Jarhead Fertilizer and Elizabeth Colour Wheel last year, and they stunned me with their singular-minded approach to make music as heavy and seething as possible with a guitar-bass-drums trio. In the live setting, they reminded me of bands like Fistula (the riffs) and Indian (the vocals), but for me, Body Void's recordings didn't stack up. Now, having augmented their setup with heaps of abrasive electronics to fill every space on Atrocity Machine with glass, rust and asphalt, I can definitely say they've captured the power of their live shows. The first two proper tracks, "Human Greenhouse" and "Flesh Market," are similar in spirit to their old tracks (slow leaden riffs, maybe a fast part, less concerned with structure than texture), albeit trimmed in length and twice as caustic. It's "Cop Show" that really announces the band's arrival, a nauseating see-saw whirr accompanying every downstroke, grinding the listener down for over six minutes until a slightly different version of the riff comes back for the pile-driving finish. The flip features two songs stretching over 10 minutes each, again recalling earlier recordings, but made whole with electronic noise. As exhausting as "Divine Violence" might seem halfway through, it's an agonizingly slow build to a blinding finish, and you'll be inadvertently headbanging throughout. The title track closes the record out in similarly smothering fashion, electronics whipping up sand storms while the band hammers out a riff swinging ominously like a pendulum, everything except the drums eventually ceding to the painful electronics over the final minutes. This is admittedly a tough sell in an oppressively bleak world, in a society intent on destroying itself, but it's a feat to make music this physically and psychologically punishing. As suffocatingly dense as the sound can be, it's no surprise that when Atrocity Machine ends, you're exhausted; but when it's on, and you're immersed in their onslaught, you don't want it to end, either.

Lewsberg, Out and About (12XU)

If there's a sound that will evoke memories of summer/fall 2023 for me, it's gonna be the warm drone introducing "Angle of Reflection," the opening track on Lewsberg's latest record Out and About. Anyone hoping the band would return to the comparatively uptempo self-titled and In This House LPs will be disappointed, as last year's In Your Hands proves itself to be more than a transitional record. At the time, that record seemed intentionally pared down to reflect the group's ranks shrinking from four to three, but the approach appears to have been instructional for the band in some sense. Everything on Out and About feels intentional, very little left to chance, not a hair out of place. Yet even with such a seemingly calculated approach, the band played one of my favorite sets I've seen this year, covering most of Out and About with equal parts precision (Michiel Klein stock-still delivering the searing solo on highlight "An Ear to the Chest") and an infectious enthusiasm. I'm not sure if that enthusiasm bleeds into the record for anyone who hasn't seen Lewsberg live, but I think I've come to prefer this refined version of the band, prone to roomy, sparkling guitar lines, simple floor tom accompaniment, and softly delivered vocals. It is very much a pop record, one that works as social or background music, but there's enough going on under the surface to satisfy a close listen or 20. Shalita Dietrich's rich bass line on "A Different View," the vocal interplay between Dietrich and newest member Marrit Meinema on "Without a Doubt," and Ari van Vliet's violin on "Canines" show a band that is very much buttoned-down, professional and yet still finding new spaces within a well-worn pop framework. Yes, I can do without the precious spoken word of "There's a Poet In the Bushes," but I'm glad they took the swing; this band is nothing if not outwardly bookish. The lyrics across Out and About - funny, pensive, never maudlin or self-pitying - point to a more complicated humanity behind it all, of course, and Meinema's contributions in that department fit right in. It's clear that Lewsberg have transcended the VU influence and have grown into their sound, and they arrive fully-formed on Out and About. One of my top favorites from this year, and easily my most listened to record of this year.

Jef Mertens, No Mathematics (Feeding Tube/Kraak)

New solo album from Jef Mertens, a bastion of the noise/drone scene in Belgium and abroad. Not sure what hipped me to this release - maybe the Kraak newsletter, because who can keep up with Feeding Tube's release schedule - but in any case it's a keeper. Mertens is on guitar and shruti box, both of which give his droning compositions a warm-yet-metallic feel, a sound reminiscent of artists like K-Group. He's accompanied by Nickolas Mohanna on a few tracks, contributing "electronics, rhythmic pads and treated zithers," giving a track like "Metal" an almost rhythmic backbone, pushing Mertens outside of the meditative circles he tends to run on his own. There's more than a hint of Pauline Oliveros' influence evident, on "Hapering" especially, where it's easy to become immersed in the majestic repeating pattern. No Mathematics instills an eerie calm on record, and I imagine Mertens is similarly able to silence small concert venues across Europe easily with his gently welcoming yet powerful pieces, soothing the most frayed of nerves, or at least getting folks out of their heads for a few minutes.

Emily Robb, If I Am Misery Then Give Me Affection (Petty Bunco)