From Louder Than War: Whores.: War
Album Review
Whores.: War.
Vinyl | CD | DL
8/10
Is the next installment of Whores.’ enormo-noise worth its wait in Gold? Will they finally fulfill their obvious destiny as Noise Gods Beyond The Underground?
That would be cool…
Really rarely, a band comes along, you see them live, you listen to their records, you engage with their message, subscribe to their art and you wonder, and not without some trepidation, if this is their moment – because it will come, with certainty – such is their weight, strength, quality and presence that “stardom” is inevitable.
There is an undeniable greatness to these anomalies that in part makes you want to scream so loud that all the world hears them too, while other parts of you want to hold the band close and never share them. A precious secret.
A fan’s dichotomy.
Årabrot do this to me, and so do Whores.
Whores. kickstart my heart. I feel alive and impulsive when I hear their raging noise rock blasting from my speakers. I’m young again. Invigorated. Excited. They should be huge – and I’m stupefied that they’re not.
It makes no sense at all.
If humanity was even mildly discerning, Christian Lembach, Casey Maxwell and (now) Douglas Barrett would at least be as familiar to us as Helmet, Daughters or even Shellac (RIP).
But, sadly, they’re not.
If you ever get the chance to see Whores. live, do. They piss on the graves of virtually every band they play with; Christian is ferocious; bent double, swinging his guitar around his head while Casey, perhaps the most watchable bass player in rock, strikes, jabs and spins his weapon of choice, slamming in unison with Christian atop the monitors while Douglas hammers the drums to devastation behind them.
I am yet to be in the same room as Douglas. He is the third Whores. drummer that I am aware of. The first I saw live was Donnie, whose power behind the kit was awe-inspiring. It genuinely took my breath away. The next time I caught them, Donnie had been replaced with Joel, who lacked the same impact, before Douglas was recruited around the time of the pandemic.
This is important, because the live rage that Whores. exude has really been caught superbly on War.. The recording is spectacular; it has all the energy, rush and vitriol of being up close and sweaty with the band, more so than on Gold, their debut full length, as great as that was.
I mention all this because the drums are what translate that live experience to vinyl so distinctly. Douglas’ performance on War.; the strength of the drums, their weight in the recording and the fact that they could almost be considered a lead instrument, is a key differentiator for the band and he has moved them forward in the face of very stiff historic competition.
The kit is ferociously loud, upfront and utterly in charge. Spectacular.
The album kicks off with a cute false start before Malinches crashes in, sparing no punches: “Judas or Brutus, you parasite – contaminate someone else’s life!”. Christian’s bitter bile is so marvelously ripe.
As the record progresses, the band’s reputation for having the best songs titles in the biz is exemplified by Hieronymus Bosch Was Right, Back When I Was A Savage, The Death Of A Stuntman and Hostage Therapy, whose lyrical twist is that the narrator is the hostage within his own pathetic little life.
What can I say? It speaks to me.
War.’s songs are brilliantly and succinctly written, recorded and produced. The whole record sounds enormous. There’s distortion and noise throughout – Christian’s screams are searing – but there’s a clarity to the recording that makes space in the maelstrom – nothing is muddy and there’s an abundance of detail in every growl of Casey’s bass as it thumps away, while shards of Christian’s Telecaster flick and fly all over the recording from needle drop to runout groove.
Unlike any contemporary band you can name, from Unsane’s sinister stalking to Melvins’ colossal mass, Whores. have real tunes pumped deep within the noise – anthems that make you sing/shout/scream and spew along with them – proper big choruses.
Perhaps that’s what makes them feel so inevitably huge. It’s what makes them stick with me, certainly.
BUT…
There are two criticisms that reign War. back from being the monsterpiece it so nearly could be; Quitter’s Fight Song and Savage Reprise let the side down, and perhaps because the anticipation is so high due to the long wait, they both feel wasteful in different ways to me.
Preview tune Quitter’s Fight Song is a great track, apart from the chorus (“Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!”) which is presumably a knowing nod to Marilyn Manson’s Fight Song, even if that seems like an odd reference point for the band.
Of course, that chorus will be a live highlight, but the machismo associated with a fist-pumping chant like that, even if its intention is self-deprecating, is hard for me to forgive. Perhaps I’m an over-sensitive, delicate flower – but I expect more from Whores.
My second disappointment comes in the form of the final track of the LP, Savage Reprise, which is a minute and a half of chintzy cheese with credits for the album narrated as lyrics over the top. In the vein of the intros and interludes on Offpsring’s Smash, it becomes annoying and a necessary skip, which feels wasteful. To throw away 10% of your track count on a gag, when we could have had another blasting wünderditty in its place, is a real shame.
That said, even being marked down for these two minor offences, War. is still an amazing record and a cornerstone – not just of Whores.’ discography, but the noise rock genre’s output of this decade so far.
It came so close to being perfect.
The record itself was pre-ordered – I managed to get hold of one of the really limited first pressings – which sold out in minutes online before second and third pressings were manufactured. It’s a beautiful turquoise, black and clear splatter, for those that care. The artwork is traditionally minimal and for the first time, we get an insert with lyrics, for added engagement.
It’s time they went over the top and into battle; the mud runs red and the gore is deep. Perhaps this record is less War., and more Crusade, with our intrepid trio forging the way for any number of lesser bands to follow; a noise rock Forlorn Hope, showing the world how it needs to be done.
Long may they fly that freaky flag. I, for one, will always salute it.