aaamusic | On 06, Mar 2011

Although it boasts a tripped-out swagger to match Stone Temple Pilots, De Staat’s pitchblack epic ‘Machinery’ offers smart social commentary propelled by searing, venomously psychopathic rock experimentation, bringing in funk, metal, industrial, and the sleazy horrors of modern life to create a startling collection of rocking observations.

The blasting opener ‘Ah I See’ is an exhilerating tour de force, bleeding sludgy guitar over incisive percussion as it grabs the listener by the throat using a sonic slam so powerful it could knock over a small child, before spiralling into Queens Of The Stone Age style stoner metal riffs, wordless howls forming a malignant chorus, and nearly spoken-word verses chill the hairs on the back of the neck, flanked by thick distortion and tumbling drums. Following on is the off-kilter ‘Sweatshop’, every instrument detuned and downtuned to an inch of its snarling life, a limping drum sprawling over spoken word vocals. The smeared bassline is so distorted to almost fit into industrial metal, as are the mechanical keyboards, but the laconic strangeness recalls Fu Manchu among others. The clatter and whir match the lyricism perfectly, a shout against human-as-machine work.

And, drum roll please, we have a recognisable melody in ‘I’ll Never Marry You’, a garage rock stomper/anti-love song in the vein of The Hives on tranquilisers. A simple swinging rocker of a track, with tuneful vocals and jaunty drumming, all injected with narcotic strangeness thanks to a guitar sound like a 1950s b-movie UFO and spontaneous keyboard flutters in an otherwise recognisable song. Ditto with the demented funk rock of ‘I’m A Rat’, chugging out disco jaunt with heavy metal attitude. Disjointed hi-hat beats mix with lumbering Fu Manchu guitar/bass riffs and Beegees lead guitar, but the falsetto vocals and keyboard flourishes are straight from the Jackson 5’s little-known collaboration with HP Lovecraft’s ghost, placing the listener distinctly on edge. Likewise ‘Psyche Disco’ combines grotesque disco mannerisms in a jumpy dance beat and lunatic melodies to create a nightmare carnival of a track, the warm lead vocals painting a decidedly uncomfortable picture amongst the thick stoner rock guitar riffs and tinkling synth menace. Matched to this is the gloriously drugged-up rocker ‘Rooster Man’, sounding for all the world like a Green River track given extra weight by metallic menace and swagger.

Driven by cavernous bass drum, jangling bells and rhythmic, almost tribal handclaps, joined by glitchy synth, ‘Old Macdonald Don’t Have No Farm No More’ is stoner rock of a new era, a hallucinogenic electronic experience propelled by the organic beat. Woven into this is the powerful vocals barking out a darkly militaristic and indeed nihilistic chant. As for ‘Keep Me Home’, it is a harrowing anti-folk deathmarch with scraping string(ish) sounds, slow snare beat and apocalyptically bleak lyrics dealing with the horrors of war. The pseudo-Queen chorus vocals only adds to the chilling strangeness, especially with a saw-edged cello looming over the proceedings.

The synth glitchily roars back for the indie-tinged ‘Tumbling Down’, with breathy backing vocal refrain, stilted handclaps, and the aforementioned thick buzz leading into unnerving guitar squalls, and lyricism that ambushes you with its dark conclusion: “I might be sleeping with the dead”.

The conclusion is the double-whammy of jittery garage rock stomper ‘Serial Killer’, and ‘Back To The Grind’. The former blends Alice In Chains downtuned bass snarl and drawled backing with a decidedly unstable-sounding raw guitar riff and howling, paranoia-drenched lead vocals and a terrifying funk overtone, the surface cheer jarring with pitchblack Nine Inch Nails attitude. The latter builds slowly, suspenseful percussive thud/clatter and discordant mechanical guitar dragging Nine Inch Nails comparisons back to the fore, but the song itself laments failing crops and the ensuing hardships like some industrial Steinbeck, a smart parallel to modern societal crises in jobs and finance.

I suppose that in the end, I can only really think to describe this in terms of Iggy Pop’s immortal ‘The Idiot’, as ‘Machinery’ provides the same weary bile, the same noir-spattered experimentation, and the same eminently listenable yet fiercely challenging experience, as it leads the audience on a journey from apathy to awareness.

Author: Katie H-Halinski