#lee buford

The Body (Chip King & Lee Buford)

From left to right: Dylan Walker, Kristin Hayter, Lee Buford

BY JORDAN MAINZER

The trio of The Body’s Lee Buford, Lingua Ignota’s Kristin Hayter, and Full of Hell’s Dylan Walker have some history. The Body and Full of Hell had released two collaborative albums, and Hayter’s appeared on The Body’s records. But Sightless Pit is a true distillation of each of these artists while simultaneously existing as its own entity. And to them, it’s not just a side project. Sightless Pit is, to Walker, “the next most serious thing I have” after Full of Hell. Earlier this year, he spoke to me over the phone of desperately wanting to apply what he’s learned from his experiences in his “will play anywhere” best-known band--mistakes included--to the new one that’s a little more picky. This isn’t to say that Sightless Pit’s debut Grave of a Dog is composed--quite the opposite. Many of the songs started out with a minimal canvas and took shape on their own, often due to the nature of the instrumentation. (They used no guitars and instead noise devices, drum machines, a baby grand piano, and a lot of samples, including a John Phillip Sousa sample.) But the essence of Sightless Pit, as Walker repeatedly told me, lies in contrast best enhanced by atmosphere as pure as the collaboration itself. Recorded with Seth Manchester (“He understands and finesses things in a way we couldn’t do with anyone else,” Walker said), Grave of a Dog is singular because it ebbs and flows and thrives in extremes.

Read on as Walker breaks down the album, song by song, cover to cover.

Since I Left You: Sightless Pit is a collaboration of three artists who have collaborated before in various ways. Why was this the right time to do this exact iteration and a full album’s worth of songs?

Dylan Walker: I don’t think the timing was intentional at all. A couple years ago, though, Lee and I finally buckled down about starting a band because he had studio time at Machines with Magnets. He started working on beats. Kristin was there, too. She did some synthesizer and piano accompaniments to the songs. It added so much to the record. At first, I think Lee just wanted her to be a contributor, as The Body do with all of their guests. But it just seemed so critical to me, what she contributed, even from the first batch of recordings, that we had to have Kristin in the band. I didn’t know her that well at point. I had never met her in person. We were really friendly with each other, and we liked each other’s music a lot. We kind of blindly asked her to be in the band, and she was super into it. What she offers is so much different than what I can do and what Lee can do. It made it into a more full-bodied project. The timing didn’t have anything to do with it, but it took us ages to make the record, since we were all on tour. Lee doesn’t fly, so he only recorded one time to make up the beats, and Kristin and I went up to Providence to finish the record last year around this time. It was kind of sketchy. We didn’t want to mess with anything Lee had done or lose his vision, but thankfully, Machines with Magnets is such a cool studio, we were able to finesse things into a shape we were all into. We had no idea how it was gonna sound, either. There weren’t really a lot of guidelines to go on, which made it a little difficult for me to envision where the record was gonna go. But that was the cool part about it. It was very organic.

SILY: Now, at this point, Kristin has released CALIGULA, her biggest record to date, and has garnered her a fan base similar to The Body’s and Full of Hell’s. The first track, “Kingscorpse”, just sounds like the answer to the question, “What would a collaboration between Lingua Ignota, The Body, and Full of Hell sound like?” First, you hear her, then you hear Lee’s beats, and then you hear you. It’s sort of like, “Boom, boom, boom,” this is exactly what it’s gonna sound like.

DW: Even early on, we kind of thought that would be the first song, but when things were more formally taking shape, we decided as a group that should be the first track. It just feels like an introduction, like a palate cleanser to me. It’s the most normal, on-the-nose song on the record. It’s really hard to think of these songs as singles, since the whole thing is different the whole way through. I feel like it’s meant to be listened to together, the whole way through, not as singles, though that’s kind of how things go nowadays. But yeah, it’s a great first song. It’s pretty straightforward and has everybody’s voice in it pretty equally.

SILY: “Immersion Dispersal” introduces some other elements of the aesthetic, most prominently drone. To what extent was that song on the record and the record in general influenced by ambient music?

DW: I think it had a heavy influence on the whole record. “Immersion Dispersal”, I’m actually listening to it right now so I can remember what happened, because it’s such a long process. Certain songs on the record are really driving and dancey and more out front with their aggression. “Immersion Disperal” has some groove to it, with Lee playing saxophone and Kristin doing some juggalo rapping, which is kind of a joke, I guess.

SILY: “The Ocean of Mercy” has chants that are direct references to ritual dancing.

DW: Kristin and I are really into this collection of paranormal recordings. A lot of the recordings are from the 60′s and 70′s. It has a lot of cool ghost artifact recordings. But this one is exorcism. We sampled that a little bit and wanted something that breathes and cleanses your palate. This track is my favorite one on the record. It’s meditative. It sinks into you. There are a lot of layers on the track, but they’re very subtle, so the track feels minimalistic to me. Some of these tracks are so intensely blown out and in your face, that something like this is a nice breath. A literal ocean of mercy. The track kind of made me laugh when we named it. It made a lot of sense.

SILY: “Violent Rain” has a sort of dystopian quality to it. Was that something you were going for there?

DW: Yeah, I mean, that’s the thing with a lot of these songs. When these songs are started, there’s no intention to them. We don’t know what they’re gonna sound like. We start them, and they take shape on their own. They dictate to us how they should sound. At least that’s the vibe I get every time I’m in there. We build these songs from the bottom up. So basically, we had a collection of beats from Lee, and Kristin played synths on top, and we basically find a hook or something that makes the song fit into what we’re trying to do for the record.

“Violent Rain” drum-wise reminded me of an old band Lee was in that Spencer [Hazard] from Full of Hell and I were really into called Dead Times. They were extremely blown out, minimalistic, industrial doom. It was so brutal. The more simplistic the beat is, the more it channels that old style. I’m a big fan of it. It’s kind of this flowy, moody synth song, but these brutal drums swell in and out. Kristin’s piano and solo performance on top of it is a nice contrast. I’m just one little part of this thing. I’m not the architect by any means. But one thing I made clear to those guys was I really wanted to exemplify the harsh contrast between the ugliest sounds Lee and I can make and these beautiful, grandiose, soaring sounds Kristin is kind of known for, I guess. She makes all kind of sounds, ugly and beautiful, but that stark contrast always excited me. This was an extreme case study in that.

SILY: On "Drunk On Marrow” and “Miles Of Chain”, your screaming becomes an almost gargle, even more so than I’ve ever heard from your voice. To what extent do you think you pushed your voice on this record?

DW: I hate to say this, but I don’t really remember if I pushed my voice any harder in particularly. I definitely wanted the vocals on “Miles Of Chain” to be pretty wretched, so I kind of went for it there. It’s where my style is kind of leaning in the future, even with Full of Hell. Maybe less emphasis in making sure I pronounce things properly and more emphasis on making the gurgliest, most disgusting-sounding vocals I can muster at the time. It has more pronounced feeling, and obviously it sounds grosser. It has more area where I can sit in comfortably. So I can really push myself in that direction more.

SILY: The second to last track, “Whom The Devil Long Sought To Strangle”, blew my mind composition-wise the first time I heard it. With the three of you, especially The Body and Full of Hell, I have to tell myself, “Nothing’s off limits,” but when the explosion of screeches and screams came about at the end of this song, I was still surprised.

DW: Yeah, it turned out pretty cool. The sounds all the way through the song on top of the drums, that’s Kristin playing with the strings under this baby grand piano. We just want to get sounds any way we can get them. If it creates this cool, atmospheric landscape, that’s exactly what they want. I want it to expand between unsettling ambiance, explosions, and nice, dancey beats. We didn’t intentionally go into it knowing what kind of contrast was gonna be there, and it kind of grew into its own thing. This record is really organic. I’m still truly wondering whether people are going to like it. None of us really know how to describe it, but it does feel like all three of us. I’m not too worried about it. If some people like it, that’s cool. I’m glad we made it.

SILY: Why did you decide to end it with “Love Is Dead, All Love Is Dead”?

DW: It’s just a depressing song. This whole record was about walking away from things you love. This song is just sad. It has almost like a hopeful note at the end, too. I think it’s really beautiful. It’s not just miserable and caustic. It’s dynamic. It’s not singular or just ugly. I didn’t do a lot on this track. I did some background noise for texture. The song is purely a Kristin performance. It has layers. It’s not ugly. It’s a beautiful sounding song. But it’s crushingly sad to me.

SILY: What’s the inspiration behind the band name?

DW: You know, I had that name in my name bank I keep in my phone for a long time. I wanted to use it for a Full of Hell song. It’s actually a location in an Elder Scrolls game. Pretty nerdy, but I was so struck by the wording. It felt so perfect. In terms of how this record sounds, too, it was pretty fitting. We were tossing around names, and it stuck with everybody. This hopeless, deep, unknown place.

SILY: What about the album title?

DW: “Grave of a Dog” was this incredibly sad title Lee had sitting around that he wanted to use for this band. We all really love dogs. I feel like “Grave of a Dog” is such a brutal, sad title. It’s dual-fold, too. It could be the grave of a dog, or the grave of a person not even worth a name. Overall, it’s just crushingly sad. That’s kind of Lee’s specialty.

I have a couple Corgis, and I’m a big baby about them. When I went on tour for the first time, I had really terrible separation anxiety. Every tour I’m going on added up, I’m missing a third of this dog’s life. Am I going to regret this when this dog passes, god forbid? It was worth it for me to be away from him for a third of his life, but it was really fucking with me for a couple years. It was this time sync crisis. There are a lot of different ways to interpret the title, though. I’m sure Lee could give you a whole different fucking explanation. There’s some anonymity to it, but also a very literal definition.

SILY: What about the album art?

DW: That was my concept. We were having trouble with a direction for the artwork. When the record was shaping up, I was pretty excited about it. I was proud to be a part of it. I wanted art that was good. You could so easily shrug it off and do just about whatever. I didn’t want something like that to be just shrugged off. I thought it was so cool for the cover to be just entirely black, with the outline of the three of us shrouded. We had a friend shoot for us. The logo, even before we knew what this project was gonna sound like, the aesthetic I had in my head was very rococo, very gilded and flowery and lengthy looking. My friend Mark McCoy, who I’m such a fan of, did the logo. I wanted it to be extravagantly beautiful, and a great contrast with the ugliness of the music. I need to really get that logo out there as much as possible. It’s unique--I don’t see a lot that look like that.

The insert has some flower arrangements a friend shot for us. I wanted some warm color to contrast the blackness, but not on the outside of the record. The outside had to be essentially a black hole. That was the impetus for that artwork.

SILY: Is there anything you’ve been listening to, reading, or watching lately that’s caught your attention?

DW: I haven’t been able to watch movies or TV for a couple months now. I’ve been in this weird phase where I only watch YouTube. I’ve been watching really weird YouTubers, those monotonous, shit-talking people who just rant. It’s weird--it’s not entertaining, and I feel bad for my wife. There’s always some stupid fucking 40-minute rant video on where the guy is eating something disgusting and choking on it or throwing up or naked. That’s where I’m at. I’m only watching the most freebased form of whatever TV is. Straight up garbage.

I’ve been listening to a lot of Natalie Rose LeBrecht. I can’t even describe her--I don’t know where she’s from. But this record, Mandarava Rose, is so beautiful. It has a ton of instruments on it and is so soothing. I’ve been listening to a lot of Tony Molina. He’s a really great songwriter. His songs are extremely short, funny, and sad.

SILY: Full of Hell beat him by one spot in our top albums list of last year.

DW: That’s so sick. I’m glad you guys like Tony Molina, too. I was such a huge Ovens fan, first. It’s so crucial. But then I got into his solo records. There’s some loud stuff but a lot of acoustic stuff, too. It’s so interesting how short his songs are. He’s a punk dude, and it’s interesting to see how that aspect of punk translates to power pop songs. The leads are insane. He’s self deprecating in a way that’s not corny, just funny and sad. His records don’t wear out for me. I’ve also been listening to a lot of Stooges lately. Oddly enough, I randomly came across King Krule. I knew the name forever and never bothered to listen. I was listening to that record 6 Feet Beneath the Moon that came out a few years ago. It’s so sick. He’s so talented. It’s really fun to listen to. I’ve also been listening to a lot of hard, beat-heavy house music. There’s this label in England called NUXXE, run by the artists Shygirl and COUCOU CHLOE. I think they’re referring to it as post-club music, but it’s really noisy, with ignorant-ass beats.

SILY: Do you subscribe to any Twitch channels?

I Have Fought Against It, But I Can’t Any Longer. by the body

It’s a good trick: making music that’s ruthlessly devoted to bumming people out and compulsively listenable at the same time. It’s a trick the Body have excelled at for the last ten or so years. Especially on All the Waters of the Earth Turn to Blood (2010) and on Christs, Redeemers (2013), the Portland-by-way-of-Providence band made idiosyncratic songs that vibrated with the ponderous intensity of doom metal, even as they cut against the grain of the genre’s Sabbath-inspired (and perhaps Sabbath-anchored) conventions. Some things remained constant: Chip King’s unearthly scream and bottomlessly low-end strings, Lee Buford’s simple and punishing percussion and the pair’s deft sense for where to drop a creepy sample or draw on the cold snap of a drum machine.

The Body (Chip King, Lee Buford)

The Body (Chip King, Lee Buford)