Review Summary: Inspired by her own surgery, Margaret Chardiet reveals her rawest emotions on Pharmakon's most focused and cohesive work to date.
Oftentimes, the context in which a record is produced is important when trying to understand a musical work as a whole. Four days before setting out on tour, Margaret Chardiet, the founder and sole member of Pharmakon, required major surgery, culminating in the loss of an organ. Taking a look at the cover art of Bestial Burden, it’s not hard to see how impacting this must have been on Chardiet – raw organs are strewn out across Chardiet’s body, her fingernails have been replaced with talons, and any blank spots are covered with raw meat, creating a twisted smorgasbord of the human body turned inside-out. This imagery is not a flippant attempt to shock or disgust, but rather Chardiet’s thesis for her record: The human body is just a combination of organs and meat that somehow work together to keep a person alive and sentient, yet as humans, we have no control over their workings. This idea of uncertainty and trepidation towards the body is what ultimately fuels this record, and the product is a noisy, anomalous, yet ultimately compelling 32 minutes of noise-music that never seems overblown or facetious in its execution; Pharmakon has created a visceral, honest depiction of dissatisfaction with the human body that is angry, yet masochistically enjoyable to listen to.
Sonically, Bestial Burden is not a massive departure from Pharmakon’s debut LP, Abandon, which laid the framework for Pharmakon’s aesthetic – loud, dissonant screams alongside industrial inspired noise instrumentals. There are no catchy hooks on both records, and vocals are very hard to discern, either due to their affectation by delay and reverb, or because Chardiet is screaming like a torture victim who is having their toenails extracted. There is a heavy focus on repetitive, bassy percussion on many tracks here, such as ‘Intent or Instinct’, whose eight and a half minutes is primarily composed a heavy, percussive loop that repeats, holding the track together while Chardiet adds noisy elements on top of the loop, before launching into some of the most pained and inhuman vocal deliveries I’ve heard on a record to date. While many artists in the ‘extreme’ genres of music may use their voice to scream, howl, shriek or yell in purposefully aberrant ways, Chardiet’s voice sounds purposeful throughout this record, and packed with emotions apart from the usual anger and disdain associated with screaming vocals on other records. There is a genuine feeling of pain, loss and anguish that comes through on Bestial Burden, and such honesty is rare to find in such a palpable manner in records of this intensity and timbre. Chardiet has managed to skilfully balance the jarring instrumentals on her new album with her vocal performances, and interweave them so not only do they sound purposeful when combined, but are distinct enough to pick apart and appreciate on their own merits. Such a trait is rare amongst artists in this genre (let alone any genre), and this really sets Pharmakon apart from her contemporaries within the genre in the best way possible.
The major triumph of this record, however, is its thematic cohesiveness and overall improvement in focus from Pharmakon’s previous record, Abandon. While not a poor record musically, Abandon suffered (in my opinion) from not having a clear theme or reason behind its discordant symphonies of noise – this is an issue that Bestial Burden does not suffer from, however, as Chardiet’s own personal experiences allow this album to be the ultimate realisation of Pharmakon’s potential as a musical project. Instead of being an album solely comprised of loop-based vignettes, the real-world surgical context of Bestial Burden adds a new dimension to the listening experience. Every grating moment of noise conjures up images of surgical wire, sullied flesh, quivering tissue and homeostatic palpitation that allows for visceral reactions to be had while listening. Combined with the graphic deviance of the album art, the record allows itself to become an exploration into the human body’s limits, and the fears we should hold towards it. This is not a gore-genre record, but it concerns itself with the darker side of the human species, and does so at a purely physical level. As the title of the record suggests, our own flesh, blood and organs are a burden upon us, and the price we pay for sentience is that ultimately, we will be betrayed and crippled by our own incontrollable, natural decaying of tissue inside of ourselves. Chardiet does not shy away from this idea – while painful to consider, such near-nihilistic points of view about our own species are important to consider, and can at least be made compelling and intriguing through Bestial Burden’s clangs, thuds, and piercing howls.
This is a record that is difficult to describe in precise words. Although ‘noise’ might be a good start, it’s important to note that Chardiet isn’t just bending circuits and filtering white noise to create this album (although this may have played a part in creating some of the sounds). There is a clear sense of purpose, planning and structure throughout this entire record, as Pharmakon seems to have a renewed direction, focus and resolve with this sophomore release. It may not be completely unique in its sonic aesthetics, but Bestial Burden sets itself apart from other noise records by being full of genuine, unprocessed emotion, while simultaneously being an utterly compelling listen. Do not be turned off by the ‘noise’ label this record is often given, as it is more than just screaming and piercing frequencies. Like the human body, there is a living, breathing person behind all of the ugly, raw flesh of Bestial Burden, and she has a lot to tell you.
