There's a certain sci-fi horror logic running through Throat Slave that's hard not to notice once you hear it. Squid Pisser's whole aesthetic universe of parasites burrowing under skin, organisms mutating into something unrecognizable, bodies playing host to things they didn't consent to carry lines up almost too neatly with the body-horror creature-feature tradition that made derelict spaceships and things bursting out of chest cavities into cultural shorthand for dread. Ash's clinical, almost admiring description of the xenomorph as "the perfect organism" could double as a mission statement for this record: something engineered purely to survive, to spread, and to feel nothing about the host it ruins in the process. The record doesn't cosplay that world so much as arrive at the same nightmare logic independently: something incubates in the dark, and by the time it reveals itself, it's already too late to do anything but watch.
On paper, Throat Slave represents a clear evolution in the band's tactical approach to heavy music. Rather than relying entirely on the uninterrupted, hyper-speed velocity that characterized their earlier output, the new original material makes a noticeable effort to incorporate groove, atmospheric tension, and dynamic spatial pacing. The addition of guitarists Armendariz and Azraai to the core creative process plays a visible role in that expansion; their guitars weave thicker, more complex layers of distortion and dissonance, giving the rhythm section room to breathe and settle into heavier, mid-tempo stomps. There's undeniably more space in these compositions, allowing the band to build a sense of impending dread rather than just bludgeoning the audience nonstop from the opening second less a chase down a corridor, more the silence right before something moves in the vents.
The album opens with "Prison," a brief 43-second atmospheric prelude that sets a tense, suffocating baseline before exploding into the main body of work: the sound of a hatch sealing shut before anyone realizes what's already on board. The original tracks running through "Fart F*** F*** Face," "Leeches," "Mucus," "Rats," and "Tumors" demonstrate this expanded songwriting scope. "Leeches" and "Mucus" push dense, grinding rhythms into two-minute bursts of controlled chaos, while the album's centerpiece, "Rats," sprawls over five minutes, giving the band room to experiment with atmospheric decay, slow-burning tension, and rhythmic shifts that feel far more deliberate than simple grind-core speed.
Visually and lyrically, the project remains steeped in the deeply unpleasant, shock-adjacent imagery that defines the band's identity with tumorous growths, parasitic leeches, rampant vermin, and general physical decay. But beneath that heavy veneer of body horror, the record's thematic core touches on more grounded human struggles: paranoia, psychological confrontation, self-examination, and the messy process of reclaiming individual identity from manipulative external forces. It's essentially an exploration of emergence through discomfort, confronting unpleasant realities, stripping away imposed narratives, and seeking clarity in the aftermath of a personal collapse. Fitting, for a band whose whole visual language keeps circling back to the idea of something hostile gestating inside a body that never agreed to host it.
While the primary tracks document this symbolic organism in its baseline state, the second half of the release is dedicated entirely to its structural mutation. Squid Pisser brings in an eclectic, unconventional roster of underground guest artists to dismantle and rebuild the original songs from the ground up, less a sequel than a full metamorphosis, the creature returning in a different shape entirely. The remix side opens with Plack Blague's "Leather Remix" of "Face Fart F*****F***," transforming the raw punk energy into a pulsing industrial dance track. Drumcorps follows with the breakcore-infused "Mucus Producer," while synth-punk outfit Fartbarf takes on "Rats Leeches," extending it into a four-minute electronic haze. Further contributions from Ecology HomeStones ("Filthy Rats"), minimalist Japanese noise-pop duo Hyper Gal ("Snot of Self Abuse"), and DJ Embryonic Petit Sac ("Throat Toad") keep the momentum shifting. The release closes with KK Null's harsh, fractured "Pay to Rot" remix, cementing the second half as a genuine second movement rather than mere bonus content.
Accompanying the music is the striking visual work of artist Bora Murmure, whose glowing, deeply unsettling cover art captures the surreal tone the band aims for, a central figure emerging from pitch darkness, transformed into something simultaneously striking, repulsive, and difficult to categorize neatly. It's the kind of image that wouldn't look out of place on a derelict ship's cargo manifest: something found, something that shouldn't have been brought aboard. For listeners already invested in the obscure, hyper-specific world of avant-garde grindcore, noise punk, and industrial electronics, Throat Slave offers an intriguing look at a band attempting to stretch its boundaries without abandoning its core identity. The material is executed with technical competence and an undeniable commitment to the group's chosen aesthetic.
But the record's extreme stylistic choices and unyielding reliance on grotesque imagery make it a tough sell outside those specific niche subgenres. The abrupt shifts between chaotic hardcore and harsh electronic experimentation can make the listening experience feel disjointed, requiring a high tolerance for deliberate dissonance and extreme sonic textures. It's an impressive showcase of artistic persistence and creative collaboration, but its highly polarizing nature keeps it a deeply specialized release, tailored strictly for a very specific slice of the heavy music underground world, one where once something's inside you, there's no getting it back out.
Go give the track Tumors a listen:
Give them a follow if you haven't already: 𝓢𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓭 𝓟𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓻
Comments
Post a Comment