With a reputation as one of the weirder, more over-whelming and just down right nasty left-field experimental doom bands, The Body bring their perfectly judged cacophony of masoconventionism to eerie new spectacular heights with the much anticipated `Christ's, Redeemers'. With murderous folky ballads provided by a female vocalist over droning tonal poems, there is also new emotional threads being sewn, particularly in `Night of Blood In a World Without End' when the line "The pain of living holds no victory" reigns out over the preceding filth ridden, amp blowing scuzz fuzz and battery.
I could always imagine Lee Buford and Chip King wryly grinning as they implemented their earth shattering compositional arsenal, but during `Christ's, Redeemers' it feels like the earth, sky and waters turn to grey and happiness or joy is recognised as just a pitiful little spark, neurons firing to protect and blanket us, an emotion that serves very little evolutionary purpose and, actually, the pursuit of joy or beauty or contentment could be reflected upon as a very counter intuitive or destructive thing, seen as though it is always relevant to one's circumstance. People who wilfully pursue their own happiness probably only enjoy short lived relationships, are unreliable, are at a base level deeply selfish. But they're happy so surely that's the meaning of living? If you ask me, that's cold and wrong and sort of fundamentally ignorant. Once again, happiness is no more than a fizzy bit of electricity in your head. The vast majority of life doesn't even have the capacity to be `happy'. It just does and is and fulfilling real instincts that nurture the body is energy better spent than hungering for a mirage of a feeling that just moves further away every time you grasp it for a moment.
`Denial of the Species' is one of the stronger tracks The Body have ever produced, with that characteristic trip-hoppy glitch under the dredging hopelessly punishing guitar.