“I’m just trying to remember my own face.“
As was aptly shown by the cover on their debut record, Violence, there has always been a grizzled nature to Truck Violence‘s sound. Their vocals have a world-weariness in them with lyrics to match. On their sophomore record they’re brandishing a sound with hardcore influences that’s now become tougher and unfiltered. Much of their influences are coming from traditional punk, hardcore, and folk, all weaved together by the Americana in a unique yet familiar sense – it is hard not to nod towards the likes of Chat Pile and Agriculture. These songs are soundtracks for the gaping fields and country roads that exist in the small-towns littered across North America. This perspective is more than intrinsic to understanding the twists and turns that The weathervane is my body takes, both sonically and lyrically.
It’s an immediate initiation for the unfamiliar, as “My dog would fuck the air” is as crude and gnarly as it titles suggests. Vocalist Karsyn Henderson growls out the line “Enamel and my dandruffa, a proverbial stretching of the vagina“, as their gravely vocals drag the track through its light rhythmic moments towards weighty sludge. It’s a brutal display of the the weariness and dissociation that The weathervane is my body delves into.
The opening foray on the record will whittle out who prefer their punk or hardcore in the safer confines. The rumbling nature of the pitched chords and maddened yells of “I was born jaundiced” on “Jaundiced and reaching for a mother” continues the crazed and unsettled nature of The weathervane is my body. Yet this sound will capture the ears of those who want something more than a little rough around its edges.
This isn’t to say it’s all blinding chaos, as the likes of “House caught fire“, moments of “Your name, it’s walking” or the latter half of “Your name, it’s walking” all showcase the aforementioned folk side of Truck Violence‘s sound. Tight chords are plucked away in a raw produced fashion, sounding as if they were performed within the same chamber. Their banjo makes a return on “Your name, it’s walking” to give it some breathing space after two minutes of stomping hardcore lament. “House caught fire” sees the acoustics become the whole band, allowing the record to be broken up and breathe between the those more heavy hitting segments.
It isn’t all just world-weariness, as “New Jesus” takes point at injustices south of the border, describing political capital being abused. The bark of “Under no obligation, to tell the truth, over 60 cases, thrown out for a lack of evidence” starkly lays out the fraudulent ways and lack of morality of the existing systems, with the earlier line of “A great many things worth loathing” nailing down Truck Violence‘s sight of it. The roar of the delivery on “They are not blemishes” during “Stomach as a tower and the globules descending” is something to behold. As the track rumbles and ruminates, the guitars warped themselves against frenzied drums, Truck Violence‘s sound truly begins to feel their own. The record loosens itself up as it closes out on “Kindly, wash yourself“, as the rhythmic side that has been present comes to the forefront. Henderson sings out “Wash yourself clean and get washed clean of everything” either side of the main verse, and together with the mulling lyricism of “Slacken with age and head further down the bank” gives the record a more personal angle and somewhat gentle closure.
Whether it’s the sense of self gnawing away at the mind, the uncontrolled nature of life, or the quieter freeing moments across The weathervane is my body, Truck Violence have that distinct authenticity to them that will bring this record to life for those who brush against its rough-edged tones. It’s certainly one that will chew out some or merely bewilder others, which is part of the joy of following a band such as Truck Violence. The Canadians remain true to themselves on The weathervane is my body, which, for the majority of the record, is for the better. Their homebrew version of hardcore and folk is capturing a growing number of ears.
