Godflesh – Slavestate [1991; Earache, Relativity]

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Originally released as a four-song EP, subsequent issuings expanded Slavestate to nine tracks, running nearly an hour long all together.  The music shows Godflesh introducing some dance and techno stylings to their industrial metal base, while the crunchy guitar and hammering percussion remain firm.  The EP is at its best when the songs are given over to the rhythms, letting the back-and-forth pounding ride along on the loop phasing and intersection shifting, which helps the songs shed some of their manufactured weight and feel more natural. 

Through the grinding metallics and bass string rattling, there’s an odd grooviness that, though often obscured, imbues the proceedings with a skewed sort of hipness, though it’s one couched in unabashed aggression.  Things do drag a bit, with three remixes filling out the space after the original tracks, but it provides a fuller illustration of the band’s experimentation and ideas at the time, and some of the reworked material hits firmer than the original cuts.

Machines of Loving Grace – Gilt [1995; Mammoth Records, Mushroom, Natasha Records]

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On their third and final album, Machines of Loving Grace simplify the detail-packed electronics of their previous releases in favor of a more metallic approach, with producer Sylvia Massy (who’d handled, among others, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Powerman 5000, and Tool) behind the boards.  Though it does bring the beat-poetry-influenced lyrics more to the forefront, the plodding pace of many of the songs makes them feel lacking in subtlety, despite some clever textural adornments and near-seamless combinations of looped and live playing.

While the singing operates in a reduced range of cadences, singer Scott Benzel seems to take that as a challenge to pack the words with dramatic inflection.  Though that ends up verging on melodramatic comedy at times, it also meshes with the more apocalyptic flavoring of the songs (e.g., “Solar Temple” and its lyrical push towards consumption, the same for “Last”, with its depressingly unimaginative chorus of ‘This is the last… fucking time! / This is the last time.’, or the junkie resignation of “Casual Users”).  It’s not hard to imagine that the band intended to finish their run with this album, given the general themes, but at the same time, societal morbidity had been a persistent presence in previous LPs as well.

Maybe the most reminiscent of their previous albums is “Twofold Godhead”, an exercise in distortion, with chunk-cut vocal processing flanging back and forth while guitars are sent through banks of delay and echo, spoken samples are beat against the rhythm, and the keyboards swirl up a storm.  Unfortunately, it’s something of a stand-alone in the album, and feels a bit like a frustrated anti-single.  Though it’s certainly a mixed bag, the album does (for the most part) show the band’s character, just through a sharply different form than the rest of their work.