GutterPutter

Following last year’s Cavalcade, the noisy darlings of the United Kingdom find themselves obsessed with the prospect of avant-prog – more specifically a dissonant, visceral shrill of a variant that is brutal prog. Previous highlights such as ‘Slow’ or ‘John L’ shows how indebted the band is to the frantic jazz-rock style that is reminiscent of King Crimson complete with its investment in mythic storytelling that ends in macabre or insanity. Hellfire continues to build on the previous work’s stylistics as lead singer Geordie Greep’s signature croon merge with the shrieks of electric guitar & Morgan Simpson’s acknowledge drumming prowess. This time, the project feels more theatrical, more zany, and more unhinged than ever before.

From start to finish, most of the album’s tracks are anecdotes that takes on an insidious undertone. Whether it be the decline in empathy through war in ‘Welcome to Hell’ or the homoerotic sensation in the face of discrimination like ‘Eat Men Eat’, the overarching theme revolves around inhumanity. Throw in the striking lyrics that leave you an image such as a child shooting a boxer dead in ‘Sugar/Tzu’ and you get yourself a largely grim outlook all around. Callbacks can also be found within the album such as in ‘The Race Is About To Begin’, but it’s not a kind of concept album that relies on one long story. Instead, it’s one that use short stories to portray a world that is brim with suffering and near-helplessness. That’s also ignoring the bookends in the title track and ‘27 Questions’ which ties the knot on the vices of mankind. With an ending which depicts a pathetic funeral with predominantly illegitimate children only staying for a short while, pessimism cuts deep in the heart of Hellfire.

Aside from the narrative side, the technical side is no slouch as well as the band continues to hone their talent in musicianship. ‘The Defence’ takes on a certain theatricality that is out of a ghoulish dark cabaret as Greep’s vocal start to hit some notable high notes. “Without my help, they’d be in chains/ Or disembowelled in a backstreet lane” he ends up singing in defence (no pun intended) of the need of prostitution to protect women from slavery or near-certain death. ‘Still’ has a rhythmic guitar playing that is reminiscent of a flamenco as a change in lead vocals with Cameron Picton thinks about his inability to move on from an ex. ‘Dangerous Liaisons’ carries a certain grim variant of jazz-rock that’s complete with start-stop switches in composition alongside a quiet-loud dynamic that is bound to explode at any moment. The weakest track in ‘Half Time’ is mostly just a buzzed-up radio recording that serves to split the two side, but it’s nice to know that the attempt at theatricality is consistent throughout the album.

The very centrepiece of the album however could be ‘The Race Is About To Begin’. It contains what makes Black Midi who they are with their crazy guitar riffs and riotous drumming, maniacal keyboards & an occasional horn in the background that’s complete with a sense of desolation in horse racing. While Greep’s vocal picks up the pace a third of the way into the song, the lyrics is a clear sequel to ‘Welcome To Hell’ with the weight of post-traumatic stress disorder lingering long after the discharge. “Yes, my cubbyhole’s stuffed with skeletons” sings Greep in what could be a summative phrase of trauma and mortality, “But my neighbours is stuffed with anthrax”. The multiple sections further add to the already theatrical journey of the song and by the end, the comparatively blissful & folksy outro is accompanied by a Greek Chorus-like musing on the reversal of societal roles and its temporality.

What you end up having in the end is some of the most off-the-cuff display of avant-prog storytelling. While Black Midi might not be the most accessible or the most idealistic of all, their third album proves itself to be capable of some frankly insane performances. This can range from the climatic cacophony in ‘Sugar/Tzu’ when the lyrics come to an end to the overdubbing of the vocals for demonic effect in ‘Eat Men Eat’. What it shows is a gradual, yet frantically amazing artistic growth from the post-punk roots of Schlagenheim to take on an identity that is seldom seen by many. While many would find the band’s eccentricities off-putting or pretentious, there is something about it that makes you want to listen to it more & let it grow on you. Hellfire treats its instrumentation alike to stage direction in the middle of an ambitious dystopian vaudeville. It doesn’t ask for your attention, but instead demands every inch of it as the sound and fury expands onward. Give it a go, be patient, and you might find a treat that is hard to ignore or forget.