Unsane

Occupational Hazard (Relapse)
by Doug Sery

I’ve been a fan of Unsane ever since I lived in San Francisco. Browsing through the stacks of a record store on Market and Castro, trying desperately to find something interesting among the 15 million SubPop records that had been loosed upon the world like some sort of malevolent virus, I was suddenly drawn to a photo of what looked like a Cadillac that had been an extra in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. On closer examination, I realized instead that the blood distributed liberally throughout the interior and exterior of the car seemed to be the result of a particularly gruesome automobile accident. Never one to let someone else’s misfortune get in the way of my entertainment, I brought Unsane’s Total Destruction up to the counter and asked the petite bepierced clerk what they were like. She paused, chewed on her tongue piercing for a moment, then replied “They make Helmet sound like the Archies.” Sold! I plunked down eight bucks and trotted home with my newly found discovery. Little did I know that Unsane had been making caricatures out of so-called “heavy” bands since the late ’80s.

Their most release, Occupational Hazard, will continue to keep that little clerk and I happy… that is if she didn’t get blood poisoning from that stupid tongue piercing and die a horrible and gangrenous death. But I digress. Occupational Hazard is the fourth full release from this New York threesome, not including two live albums, a Peel session, and a compilation of their singles. These, along with their numerous inclusions on compilation albums (and a song on The Crow soundtrack) make them one of the more prolific alternative bands out there today.

Their new CD follows the wonderfully simple formula that makes them so dear to me and my fellow noise-mongers hearts: A relentless barrage of bass and guitar driven to a near frenzy and a drummer who realizes that there are two people standing in from of him who he wants desperately out of the way. Although Occupational Hazard isn’t as gritty as their previous albums (some of which were recorded in the basements of various friends and colleagues) it still possesses an almost hypnotic monotony that acts as a perfect white-noise buffer to the vagaries of an unpleasant environment. As for the lyrics, well, I happily admit that in my four-year relationship with Unsane, I don’t think I’ve made one attempt to decipher what they’re singing about. If I want a story, I’ll read a book.

I had the good fortune to see Unsane live at the Middle East recently… a show, by the way, which I paid my own hard-earned money to see, unlike some music journalists (who shall remain unnamed) who cruise from one free show to another, cadging free drinks, hitting up on unreceptive bartenders and generally living a life that I wish I was leading (hello? Editorial? Are you there?). Anyway, in what I’m sure will be their last tour before being killed in either a bus accident or a fall from a 500-foot radio tower, Unsane once again proved that punk rock is better appreciated as a live phenomenon. I can sit in my dark room, wrapped in a dirty t-shirt and Levi’s, listening to Unsane rip away the sensitive lining of my brain, but it’s nothing compared to having these neighbors to the south lay waste to their instruments and the audience’s psyches. So, go see them before they become cover art for their own requiem album.