The truly special thing about Chat Pile is the band’s unwillingness to always meet the standards of contemporary noise rock, post-hardcore, and to some extent, sludge metal. Luther Manhole’s drop A-tuned guitars are so volatile, as abrasive as possible without being unlistenable, that you’re always expecting vocalist Raygun Busch’s next line to be screamed or shouted with the throatiest throat. But Busch’s quintessence is his often-calm demeanour, which is as frightening as any of his screams, which is what allowed the Oklahoma band to gel so well with Hayden Pedigo on last year’s In the Earth Again, which is how the “break my face and call me your friend” moment of Deep Blue becomes so poignantly unnerving; speaking on our rising likeliness to converse with AI bots online without even realising it, the song is the ultimate ‘go outside’ song. I’d say ‘touch grass’ if I were the type to say ‘touch grass’.
One spokesperson for the band – whoever runs their Bluesky – recently stated that they don’t care what genre people categorise them anyway, as long as it isn’t “pigfuck”, which doesn’t fit Chat Pile even if you do believe it exists as a genre. The band’s ability to pull itself away from the mere concept of genre is handy where playing with one’s expectations is concerned; a grand introduction on God’s Country; a finetuned weapon on Cool World. Who Loves the Sun pushes Chat Pile’s quintessence further; its pummelling, unnerving combination of noise and softer-spoken panic. Sure, the band will totally uncage and go hard in the noise paint – PEN I S MALL is glorious, and Shrine acts on a similar impulse – but Busch stripping himself back to delicately echo “I fucking dare you” on part of a rising surveillance state on Christabel ’26 gives great credence to the role of the human voice even when no corresponding veins are popping.
It is, alongside each bandmember’s own kickass playing style, a great servant to themes of American collapse, as society continues to decay like neglected teeth. It is the suitable, apocalyptic sound that christens Family Funeral’s near-conversational dialogue on anger utilised to harm others. Luther Manhole’s talents as a riff maker are highlighted on Creature, kicking the album off with something original-sounding that perseveres as manmade destruction, wildlife slaughter and climate change ravage the world. Same Rules features a bass-driven sound that gives the impression of the world falling to a dungeon-like state, which is then confirmed by the defeated-as-all-hell outro October All the Time.
These are essential themes. They’re hardly uncommon among artists with moral compasses, but Chat Pile continues to register them with its own unique touch on the band’s best album to date.
Best tracks – Creature – PEN I S MALL.
Rating – 8 out of 10
