Young Widows
Power Sucker
TEMPORARY RESIDENCE LTD.
Noise rock feels pretty good right now. Maybe not strictly “good,” more just “right.” With the bastards running the world plumbing new depths of grim stupidity with each passing day, there’s something about the genre’s ability to put a blackly comic spin on woe, misery, and human failure that feels uniquely cathartic. Noise rock has had a bit of an uptick in popularity across the last decade, highlighted by the likes of Swans and Chat Pile crossing over into the alternative mainstream, recent killer comeback records from The Jesus Lizard and Shellac, and the rise of nascent post-punk fusions via Model/Actriz, DITZ, and countless others.
Young Widows don’t quite fit into any of these categories. Sure, Power Sucker is a comeback album (it’s the trio’s first since 2014’s Easy Pain), but it doesn’t feel like one. Despite their veteran status, the Louisville group’s first full-length in 11 years has all the punch and zip of a debut statement. Their signature palette was previously a lumbering, swaggering beast, all churning bass lines, booming drums, and sleazy Southern vocals. Power Sucker retains these signatures, yet feels a degree or two more thrillingly lean than the Louisville trio’s previous four records.
These 13 tracks are among Young Widows’ most energetic exercises in rumbling, noisy carnage. The production style this time around is less cavernous, which nicely suits its creators’ current vim and vigor. “Every Bone” recalls an especially downbeat Hot Snakes, the dissonant “A Life in Tow” packs a deeply satisfying closing breakdown, and the jagged rhythms and staccato structure of “Total Fucking Clarity” feel pointed and dangerous. Even Young Widows’ signature midtempo rumbling, interlocking compositions cut right to the chase—see the metallic grooves of “Take Get Lost” and the dense, tension-filled doom that is the monster title track.
Fortunately, the band’s impressive energy never gets in the way of the signature noise-rock black humor—if anything, it makes it feel all the more maniacally enjoyable. As Evan Patterson’s arch drawl delivers a series of abstruse declarations (the line “Maybe I should try something dangerous / And just whip these chains around” on “A Life in Tow” is a great image), while his band’s signature weighty doom-rock thunders behind him with a newfound fervor, you can’t help but feel not only exhilarated, but also that its rictus-grin outlook will help lift a bit of the world’s weight off your shoulders.
