Unsane came along for me at the perfect time and proved that ugly art could be sexy.
I had no clue, at the age of 15, that a lot of the material on their self-titled LP had existed for two or three years, or that drummer Charlie Ondras would O.D. within a year of the record coming out. All I knew was what I heard, initially, on a dubbed tape while skating (and falling) all over downtown Roanoke, VA. It was brutality on a level I hadn't experienced yet. It was the soundtrack to a New York City that would disappear completely within a few years. It was lurid; it made "Friday the 13th" and Metallica look two-dimensional by comparison. I think it's important to note what it's like when a teenager encounters a naturalistic performance like this. Everything else started feeling contrived and fake.
Now it's 2020, and Matador Records has long since stopped being the home for weird and noisy New York City bands. New York isn't even New York anymore; it's a place where people stash their money in real estate they never live in. Unsane got a "new" drummer in Vinnie Signorelli who only lasted through the lifetime of the band. They'd go on hiatus, get back together, record another 10 full-lengths, and eventually would call it a day in late 2019. This remains a keystone record for me; the thing that opened me up to noise rock, noise, power electronics, etc. I still remain shocked that it's still out of print.
No comments:
Post a Comment