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Mutated Void — Roses Forever (Iron Lung)

Roses Forever (LUNGS-197) by MUTATED VOID

There’s little doubt that Mutated Void’s Roses Forever will be one of the shittiest-sounding records you’ll read about on Dusted this year. The fact that the brain-addled skate punks in the band actively want the record to sound as muddy, ugly and stooopid as it does likely won’t improve the situation for many listeners. But for those among us who enjoy this sort of thing, Roses Forever is sublime. Fourteen tracks in 16 minutes; druggy, primitive riffage; drums abused with more enthusiasm than skill—this collection of thrashy, rumbling punk burners scratches multiple itches and simultaneously seeks to fracture multiple bones. It’s wonderful.

We should note that at a couple of points, Roses Forever threatens to become musical. See especially the three minutes of sound one can isolate among “Backyards” and “Isolate the City,” in which relatively more tuneful species of song cut into the accumulated slurry of noise. Even in those instances, the uncompromisingly harsh shrieking of either Ben or Cody — the only names supplied for the two Halifax-based punks in the band, who do not indicate what manner of sounds they are responsible for — gives the tunes a raggedly serrated edge. Don’t bother with the pricey earbuds; this is music for cheap, second-hand speakers.

Mutated Void is at its best when that serrated form cuts completely into the textures of abrasive, atavistic noise. See especially “Sad Purpose” and “Rich Breath,” both of which bear the kind of remarkable titles that only punk sensibilities seem capable of producing. The songs rage with a mixture of extroverted aggressivity and inarticulate gesturing. Even better is the second half of record closer “The Ladder.” Much of the song flirts with the sort of thrash associated with the Big Four, for better or worse, inasmuch as Mutated Void is capable of such disciplined crunch. But after 90 seconds of truculent song, the assembled instruments sag and collapse. There’s amp scree and distortion, crackle and hum. It extends and breaks apart, stuttering in electronic disarticulation. That goes on. There’s nothing particularly intentional about it, but it’s very compelling.

That seems to be Mutated Void’s thing: test the limits of musicality, perhaps without really meaning to. Thrash and bash and portend complete chaos, but string together enough patterns to repeat the performance. To call it song. It isn’t pretty, but it’s pretty great. Roses forever to you, dudes.

Jonathan Shaw

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