Cool World - Chat Pile
Chat Pile presents songs about a world that isn’t so cool.
The first time I heard Oklahoma’s Chat Pile was when they were announced on Baroness’s Sweet Oblivion tour, and the catchy, jagged noise rockers have been on regular rotation since. Comprised of frontman Raygun Busch, guitarist Luther Manhole, bassist Stin, and drummer Cap’n Ron, Chat Pile on Cool World utilize elements of noise rock, sludge metal, shoegaze, and even the odd nu metal element in order to form a thorny mess of sounds that sound equal parts horrified and horrifying.
The album opens with “I Am Dog Now”, a groovy and noisy track that shows exactly what Chat Pile is about. It features Stin’s gurgling bass lines beneath Luther Manhole’s wailing chords and strums, while Cap’n Ron controls the chaos just in time for Raygun Busch’s self-disgusted howls and infuriated commands. It’s very easy to come off as corny when trying to present oneself as unstable or crazy, but Busch’s slurred words, off-kilter delivery, and repetitious statements keep it from feeling like anything but the ramblings of someone who has been chewed up and spit out.
“Shame” is the following track, using almost lazy-sounding singing to tell a story of the sights of war, contrasted perfectly by roars that are every bit as intense as the topic. It took longer to grow on me, a trait shared by the following “Frownland”. Frownland has increasingly shrill and intense shouts of “They don’t wanna hear what I have to say!” with every repeat in the chorus, all while Luther Manhole, Cap’n Ron and Stin create a wide soundscape of ringing strings and thumping bass and drums. The discordant guitar in the final third of the song transitions nicely into the verses of second single “Funny Man”, this one being a more forward critique of how generations of people suffer under the guise of improving things for their children, only for those children to be told the same thing.
“Camcorder” is the next song, and it opens with brooding, menacing instrumentals that soon open up into an eerie soundscape with Raygun Busch’s exhausted mumbles over top. It has a gradual build from that barren wasteland of drones and grumbling bass into something thicker and fuzzier, before settling into a weighty, impactful drum groove from Cap’n Ron that perfectly houses Luther Manhole’s dissonant chords and Busch’s slowly intensifying vocals. While not the scariest or my favorite of the songs, it feels easily the most drained and dreary of the harsh bunch.
On the tail end of “Camcorder” is “Tape”, which is a personal favorite. It has a gnarly, almost nu-metal influenced main riff alongside Busch’s panicked shouts, almost like a storm that slowly parts for a noisy chorus of yet more tired mumbles from our frontman. Cap’n Ron is a star player on the chorus, filling it in with awesome fills and an interesting rhythm that makes the washing guitars and layered mumbles and screams even more disorienting. The song’s second half breaks down into long stretches of drums and spoken word, with interjections of tapped guitars and our instrumentalists pushing in like a rabid dog on a leash. When the howls finally cease, they transition into the haze that is “The New World”.
The track in question has a frantic rhythm and winding melody that is less distorted than we’re used to by this point in the verses, before melting into a chorus that bludgeons the listener with shouted phrases that feel like a more verbose version of “Wicked Puppet Dance” from God’s Country. After the first chorus, our string players split into a section that feels almost like a solo with a riding bassline, but the guitar abstains from anything aside from a murky, coarse melody that transitions perfectly into the spacey guitars that back up Busch’s declarations. Every time the chorus comes around again, Busch screams “Into the new world!”and “Most are dragged kicking and screaming out!” with more fury and manic energy, a trait that is only reinforced further after Cap’n Ron’s bout of blast beats in the last stretch of the song.
As if to give a break from such a harrowing experience, the second single rears its head with a thumping cacophony of drums beneath a constant stream of cymbal hits, all of which flow into a repeated groove from the stringed instruments. Stin’s bass juts out of the thick slab of distortion with each high note, only for the guitar to fly away with open, soaring chords briefly. Similar to “Funny Man” and “Frownland”, it utilizes high notes that sit atop a bassline, only to turn into shrill choirs of notes that don’t fit neatly together, and are even cooler for it. While the prior track is more frantic, Busch utilizes an almost downtrodden delivery, as though he’s defeated or repeating himself for the 90th time. It transitions into similarly themed chords from the opening for the chorus with some depressing statements from Busch, and the different pieces build up until an explosive ending with instrumentals that sound furious and Busch’s mutual yells and pleas of “Cut me open!” finalizes “Masc” as likely my favorite Chat Pile song.
Next up is likely the weakest track of the album, but by no means a bad one. “Milk of Human Kindness” is based on a viscous bassline and likely the most singing on any of their songs yet. Busch has a more subdued, almost timid tone in this, his ramblings having a loose melody to prop them up. The song picks up when the pieces of the song become more claustrophobic, with those familiar screams of frustration and terror overtaking the blanket of instrumental destruction that ensues when the distortion is turned on. Stin continues driving the song alongside Cap’n Ron, with the latter providing added weight that seems to drag the listener down to the noisy depths the band seems to be clawing their way up from. The song ends with a mess of layered vocals, hissing, and feedback from the instruments that seem to be fighting their players.
They get a hold of their tools in time for the final track “No Way Out”, which opens with a brief and deceivingly fast tempo before the band’s favored mid-tempo musical marching comes in. This song carries the energy built up in “Milk of Human Kindness”, with Busch’s wild cries and throat shredding barks capitalizing on the setup from its oddly-named predecessor. Cap’n Ron makes great usage of blast beats in this song, drawing parallels to “Davis” in how Luther Manhole’s guitars ring out over that bed of clattering drums. The song continues on pace, but the band throws a final curveball when it suddenly cuts out with a sound that makes me check my earbuds each and every time I relisten to the album.
Overall, this album is phenomenal. My biggest worry going in is whether or not it would compare to God’s Country, but I’m pleased to say it blows its predecessor out of the water. I believe that Cool World is a stronger, more cohesive album overall, but I do find myself revisiting individual tracks off of God’s Country more often. This doesn’t reinvent Chat Pile’s wheel of torment, anguish and fear, but it does add a few unfamiliar spokes to strengthen their sound and give them more tools to work with as they progress.