Review Summary: Old kids on the block with new tricks.
There are a few different ways to open an album:
1. Ease the listener in with a gradual buildup—a hill going up on a rollercoaster.
2. Immerse the audience in a thick atmosphere by utilizing atmospheric elements or pure ambiance.
3. F*ck it, let’s just start playing music.
Sure, the Washington, D.C. collective NO MAN spends 30 seconds quietly strumming a handful of notes, playing like they’re in a library. Once the percussion barges through and “Dive” suddenly sprints off, it’s time to go crazy; the brief 22-minute runtime of
Erase is now underway, and it doesn’t lose any energy from here on out.
What the band has presented here is a fast-paced listening experience that cares less about constructing a mood and more about creating a frantic mosh party. Plenty of artists have ignored that potential aspect of songwriting in favor of going straight for the jugular, and in this case, NO MAN excel at their craft. Spearheaded by the vicious screams of Maha Shami, the ensuing journey forcibly drags the listener through headbanging-inducing, crushing riffs, and devastating breakdowns. As straightforward as the group’s approach is for the most part—everything is being thrown straight at the audience, no holding back—there remains a thrilling level of unpredictability that places these tracks a level above peers. For one instance, there’s the sudden collapse of “SOS,” wherein the addicting central guitar passage and adrenaline-pumping groove are promptly deconstructed halfway through, the speediness of the tune dragged to a halt as the full weight of NO MAN’s sound is pushed to the limit. No hint is provided that such a moment is bound to occur; the quartet cleverly withhold their full hand, demonstrating a care for compositional awareness not often witnessed in the genre. This same tactic is replicated in the desperate “Shots Fired.” Spurred by the furious drum kit, the creation progresses full-throttle through its passionate refrain, only to be destroyed, laid to waste by a chilling tempo stoppage. Similar curveballs are tossed into the mix in the form of “Secret,” which features an ominous crescendo urged forth by the rhythm section, a shaker coloring the background of the song. After the formation hits its stride, the bouncy riff that emerges turns into a veritable earworm, the distinct snarl of the bass acting as its robust foundation. Enough variation is supplied to make the disc enjoyably diverse, inserting gradual numbers alongside uncompromising hardcore jams.
When NO MAN does decide to let loose and forego additional flair, they’re more than capable of dishing out intense rockers. The sub-two-minute “Tune In” thrives off of a hefty bass performance, Shami’s impressive harsh vocals vehemently striking out as guitars wail in the distance. One must also reckon with the titanic energy of closer “Pray,” whose relentless momentum reaches a threatening height as the instruments and screams rise in volume, the rapid nature of the tune and its deadly riff pummeling the listener into submission. It’s undeniable that the contents of
Erase deliver for those wishing for a ferocious assault. Though not outwardly displaying technical skill, the dark, overbearing sound emitted by the group fills the same hardcore niche as Majority Rule once did; go figure that it
is Majority Rule in terms of the included members, with vocalist Shami being the lone exception (though she collaborated with them before!). That lack of more intrepid numbers is admittedly a bit of a loss, as there could be more adventurous decisions made outside of the choice cuts aforementioned, especially in the context of Majority Rule’s impact on the underground scene. Despite that looming influence, there’s a definite sense of this new disc being a different beast in execution. Concern is focused on direct attacks without ever dipping too far outside of the former group’s box. It is a transitory, unclean, unremitting barrage, with the production given just enough clarity and dirtiness so as to highlight all contributors, while simultaneously maintaining a raw aesthetic. Whatever melodies do appear are damned to the darkness from which they came—the same stunning aggression that made Jungbluth’s
Part Ache such a resonating experience. Being able to recapture that beauty is certainly a win for the D.C. gang, and if
Erase is any indication, they’re prepared to make their own mark on the genre.
