In an ever-increasing world of cynicism and regurgitated ideas, it often makes creating something unique, original or shocking a rarity. ‘Broods’ manages to do all three. It is manic to the point of terrifying, and so erratic it can make your head spin. It feels like it’s roots are embedded in no-wave and these roots grow into furious branches of disjointed and truly fucking weird music, dropping poisoned apples onto unlucky passers by.
These are not songs as much as numbers, pieces or compositions, sounding like art installations rather than structural songs. Coherence isn’t something that this record adheres too and it’s all the more charming for it. Guitars screech, cut, chip and saw their way through the speakers like a demented axe-wielding woodsman. The bass bumbles and bounces along with intermittent frequency. The drums crash, smash and tickle your ears with equal intensity and minimalism. Altogether, it’s a nightmare-like concoction of sonic assaults that even your own mind couldn’t conjure up on a bad acid trip. It’s freakish and it’s frightening but somehow engulfing.
Musically, it’s unhinged and succeeds in making the agitated listener feel equally so. It’s not an easy listen and can often resemble toddlers attempting to play jazz on pots and pans, but if you study the sounds and overlapping constructions, it can make for a rewarding experience. One thing that comes clear on the record is the level of involvement the band manage to create, leading one to think (or rather dread) what a live show must be like from these guys; for a record drenched in brutal tension and snarling intensity, it often resembles the loose workings of a live record. From the cryptic press release to the few indecipherable lyrics, it seems that Fat Worm Of Error are intent on being an ostracising band alienating all who dare step in their path, but if you can stand the pressure and don’t go insane trying, it’s a worthwhile journey to make.