Through countless jarring shifts, sludge metal duo the Body have maintained one constant: collaboration. Even on 2021's supposed return to form I've Seen All I Need to See, drummer Lee Bufford and guitarist/vocalist Chip King couldn't resist bringing other musicians into the fold. They've amassed a small army of like-minded weirdos for making all sorts of music, from industrial hip-hop with Full of Hell to neo-folk with Big Brave. By comparison, joining forces with underground electronic producer OAA (aka AJ Wilson) seems almost normal. OAA and the Body's respective affinity for sonic aberration makes Enemy of Love a suitably hideous, if straightforward, meeting of minds.
The single "Barren of Joy" effectively foreshadows the form Enemy of Love takes. Wilson stabs through King's suffocating brown noise with jittery synth arpeggios, as he and Bufford try their best to avoid synchronicity while peppering the wall of sound with chaotic percussive salvos. Rounded out by King's unnerving squawks and additional rasps from recurring guest Ben Eberle of the grind/sludge band Sandworm, the excursion proves as immersive as it is unforgiving. Those who heard either artists' 2021 albums will perceive pleasantly familiar echoes within the muck.
The Body have long revelled in subverting their sludge metal roots, making opener "Devalued" a fairly standard affair — in spite of its grating feedback layers, primitive drum loops and filthy guitar strains. Blown-out drums and nasty distortion notwithstanding, the song actually shares a healthy respect for quiet with the following "Pseudocyesis." Both cuts feature moments of near silence before the mayhem returns with full force, due in part to Wilson acting as both embellisher and leader of the disorienting pandemonium. He intuitively guides the song through transient post-industrial, before contentedly fading into a noise-metal beatdown.
Enemy of Love's seamless integration of alien electronics and sludge metal boils down to its impenetrable production value. Distinguishing King's demonic goat brays from shrill synth blasts at the end of "Conspiracy Privilege" becomes a challenge, and that's a good thing. The album progresses like an amorphous, malleable blob of hellish cacophony, opening the door for "Hired Regard" to feed witch house vibes through a McDonald's drive-through speaker. The mutated dance number would be an album standout, if it didn't stop after just over a minute.
Indeed, certain passages from this album come and go before getting a chance to develop. The Body aren't known for complex guitar work, but it's hard to ignore the fact Enemy of Love averages at two chords per song. Deeper cuts like "Ignorant Messiah" and "Miserable Freedom" suffer from this lack of variety, mainly because they don't provide a lot to focus on beyond the monotonous drones and bombshell drums.
The album's highest points centre on OAA warping the Body's sonic signature, like the mutated techno of "Fortified Tower" or the multi-layered beats that drive "Obsessed Luxury." Chord variation stops mattering when guitar becomes the foundation for the former cut's propulsive, eerie textures or the latter's dirge-like electro-acoustic clamor. In this way, the rattling hi-hats and grimy samples of "Docile Gift" close the record with a solid display of OAA's off-the-wall approach augmenting the Body's sonic torment. Wilson even seems to sample King's screams, but who can tell when the sum of the song's parts amounts to a junkyard explosion?
It's a shame Wilson missed out on some chances to throw these arrangements down a deeper rabbit hole, but Enemy of Love still comes through with compelling facets of two powerful veins of anti-music. It might not branch off as drastically as the Body's other collaborations, but the album remains a distinct iteration of the band's truly strange voice in underground music.
(Thrill Jockey)The single "Barren of Joy" effectively foreshadows the form Enemy of Love takes. Wilson stabs through King's suffocating brown noise with jittery synth arpeggios, as he and Bufford try their best to avoid synchronicity while peppering the wall of sound with chaotic percussive salvos. Rounded out by King's unnerving squawks and additional rasps from recurring guest Ben Eberle of the grind/sludge band Sandworm, the excursion proves as immersive as it is unforgiving. Those who heard either artists' 2021 albums will perceive pleasantly familiar echoes within the muck.
The Body have long revelled in subverting their sludge metal roots, making opener "Devalued" a fairly standard affair — in spite of its grating feedback layers, primitive drum loops and filthy guitar strains. Blown-out drums and nasty distortion notwithstanding, the song actually shares a healthy respect for quiet with the following "Pseudocyesis." Both cuts feature moments of near silence before the mayhem returns with full force, due in part to Wilson acting as both embellisher and leader of the disorienting pandemonium. He intuitively guides the song through transient post-industrial, before contentedly fading into a noise-metal beatdown.
Enemy of Love's seamless integration of alien electronics and sludge metal boils down to its impenetrable production value. Distinguishing King's demonic goat brays from shrill synth blasts at the end of "Conspiracy Privilege" becomes a challenge, and that's a good thing. The album progresses like an amorphous, malleable blob of hellish cacophony, opening the door for "Hired Regard" to feed witch house vibes through a McDonald's drive-through speaker. The mutated dance number would be an album standout, if it didn't stop after just over a minute.
Indeed, certain passages from this album come and go before getting a chance to develop. The Body aren't known for complex guitar work, but it's hard to ignore the fact Enemy of Love averages at two chords per song. Deeper cuts like "Ignorant Messiah" and "Miserable Freedom" suffer from this lack of variety, mainly because they don't provide a lot to focus on beyond the monotonous drones and bombshell drums.
The album's highest points centre on OAA warping the Body's sonic signature, like the mutated techno of "Fortified Tower" or the multi-layered beats that drive "Obsessed Luxury." Chord variation stops mattering when guitar becomes the foundation for the former cut's propulsive, eerie textures or the latter's dirge-like electro-acoustic clamor. In this way, the rattling hi-hats and grimy samples of "Docile Gift" close the record with a solid display of OAA's off-the-wall approach augmenting the Body's sonic torment. Wilson even seems to sample King's screams, but who can tell when the sum of the song's parts amounts to a junkyard explosion?
It's a shame Wilson missed out on some chances to throw these arrangements down a deeper rabbit hole, but Enemy of Love still comes through with compelling facets of two powerful veins of anti-music. It might not branch off as drastically as the Body's other collaborations, but the album remains a distinct iteration of the band's truly strange voice in underground music.