Album of the Month: Wolf Eyes: Human Animal (2006)

One of the biggest and most pleasant surprises of 2004 was Wolf Eyes, the wild, feral, beer-guzzling, frat-boy Beavis and Butthead of noise music, signing to Sub Pop and releasing one of the albums of the year to not only rapturous reception of the music press but to not inconsiderable sales. By combining the full-on, bleeding ears approach of Whitehouse and Merzbow but combining it with a goofy, good-times Spinal Tap-esque approach, Wolf Eyes managed the unthinkable: they made noise music fun, attracting disillusioned metalheads, adventurous indie kids and avant guarde enthusiasts in equal measure, without diluting the substance or ferocity of their music. As a result, the band brought the underground noise scene as close as it's likely to get to the mainstream, whilst simultaneously injecting life into it: witness the host of contempory noise acts whose profile has risen since 2004. The only question was, how could they possibly follow this? Like all noise groups, Wolf Eyes release a constant deluge of material, forever developing, exploring and expanding their sound across limited edition CDRs, tapes and vinyl. Thus keeping up with the band's releases is something of a Herculean struggle. However, whilst Wolf Eyes' constant release of material serves to negate the idea of an album release as a great event, there is a genuine sense of event for all their official Sub Pop releases. Essentially, the band get to have their cake and eat it: the never ending minor label releases allow them to perfect, experiment with and develop their sound with perfect freedom, which allows their Sub Pop albums to arrive as finished products: benefiting from all the time in the wilderness but without any of the inconsistencies that creep into their minor releases.
So, to the album. The cover of 'Human Animal' features a horrific corpse which bears an uncanny resemblance to the molten-faced zombie in Fulci's B-movie classic 'The Beyond'. In many ways this is appropriate: Wolf Eyes are no strangers to schlock horror, and their new album unfolds like a really good horror film. Opener 'A Million Years' is all sinister clanking, disembodied hollows of feedback and atonal improvised saw-skronk. But, like all good horror movies, there is something more then hair-raising terror going on here: the band are attempting to take noise music beyond mere ear-shredding. The first half of this album is all tension and no release, from the eerie hissing of 'Lake Of Roaches' to vocalist Nate Young's chilling monologue, spoken rather then shouted, on 'Rationed Rot'. The album moves into areas of free improvisation, with the band proving themselves deft controllers of dynamics and tone. Not that they've gone soft. When it comes, the dual attack of the title track and 'Rusted Mange' are among the most extreme sonic attacks the band have ever done, and 'The Driller' overtakes 'Burned Mind''s 'Black Vomit' as Wolf Eyes' most tinnitus-inducing audio gore-fest. These outbursts are all the more impressive and exhilarating coming next to the earlier, more subtle (well, relatively speaking) pieces. The album ends with a cover of 'Noise, Not Music', which Wolf Eyes turn into their own 'Living on a Prayer', a defining anthem and statement of intent. 'WE MAKE NOISE, NOT MUSIC!' you can just about hear Young bellowing before he gets finally swallowed by the feedback. Well, yes and no. Whatever you want to call it though, Wolf Eyes have once again exceeded all expectations and made one of the albums of the year. Look out behind you!