Stark, really, that Chris Spencer still sounds so beleaguered and desperate after all these years. Should this give us hope, or underline in arterial blood the very fact that there is no hope?
Still, it’s an Unsane album, which means it’s an Unsane album.
And that means gruelling relentlessness. Riffs thrust and pound like broken machinery. Signorelli’s drums rumble like the world about to crack.
&c. &c. &c.
If there are no departures a la ‘Stuck’, there are still hints of exploration and musicality lingering in the air like solvent fumes. The melodies inching their way through ‘Distance’ serve as proof, though often such moments wind up wrapped in a hastily torn-down shower curtain and dumped in a roadside ditch.
The rest of it is like being hit by a truck and dragged down countless cruel miles of motorway.
So, yes. It’s an Unsane album. It’s an Unsane album alright.