The Recommendation Suites, Vol.1/#1 - Station Model Violence "Station Model Violence"
The Recommendation Suites Vol. 1/#1
This series is culled from recommendations given to me by friends, family, acquaintances, coworkers, fellow music dorks and casual fans alike. The only really prerequisite I give when fielding these recommendations is that it must be from this calendar year. All genres are welcome in the Recommendation Suites.
The album: Station Model Violence – Station Model Violence
The recommender: Daniel Makabe. Guitar player. Retired Wrestling Genius. Coffee enjoyer. Past answerer of 5 Questions with Rags.
This album is, quite frankly, fucking relentless. It's energy frantic and kinetic. Station Model Violence moves and moves and moves but not in a way that I often move – the effect is at times dizzying, terrifying and exhilarating. Often all three at once.
These songs move so relentlessly. (Less than 50 words in and I've used “relentless” twice. It really is the word that my mind keeps coming back to on every listen.) There's a joyousness that leaks and eventually bursts from these songs, but it's joyous that quickly feels poisonous, almost suffocating, every time because there is it leaves so little room to breathe. Take “Two Eyes For An Eye” - almost dirge-like, the song chokes out the listener with a plodding, methodical momentum, droning vocals and the most nakedly violent lyrics on the record. Instead of that methodical momentum continuing up to rising action, everything just kind of falls away, like stepping off a cliff, with only pulsing, looping guitar noises suspending you in the air. (Falling off a cliff is a feeling that permeates this album. There's even a song called “Cliffs.”) At first this feels like a reprieve from the earlier terror, but it moves like an inescapable fog. And a hot, stifling fog at that, not one of those nice early morning fall fogs that refresh the lungs. This is just an example. Every reprieve from the assault on this record ends up feeling like poison right into the ear canal.
There are little bits of sound, sonic flourishes that delight my ears in amongst the endless, thumping rage of this record. The saxophone at the end of opening track “Learn To Hate” is falling onto a cloud at the end of a death drop off a cliff. (Hey, it's that damned cliff again!) The weird noises at the beginning and end of “Drip Away” - what the fuck am I hearing? Are they fucked up bagpipes? Is someone playing a saw? Is it just cool guitar pedals doing their sound-mutating thing?
I'm glad I haven't been trying to put this into whatever genre box it technically belongs in. I don't really know about sub-genres of music, especially in rock. I don't have the patience to learn and really don't care. All I know is what is good and what I like. Station Model Violence is a really fucking good album and I like it a lot. It feels like a possible masterpiece of whatever genre it belongs on. The guitar tones are varied, piercing and excellent. The drumming is thunderous and very, very cool. I'm not entirely sure what's happening lyrically, but whatever is going on, it's brooding and passionate and affecting. I can't really tell you what these songs are ultimately about but there are numerous moments that catch me each listen. “I can taste the sun, I can taste the sun, I can taste the sun...” The guy singing kinda reminds me of Frank's mortician friend in Always Sunny In Philadelphia, so that's kinda fun too.
This isn't music I'd probably ever hear – let alone listen to multiple times through – if left to my own devices. Getting acquainted with Station Model Violence has felt very much like learning about, and ending up making friends with, someone you were kinda scared of when you first met. We might be on different paths, coming at life from very different ways, but we're cool now. “What? Who? Station Model Violence? That's the homie.”
I don’t think the vocalist in Station Model Violence has as dry a mouth as this guy though.
