Cool World

The accompanying tracks “Camcorder” and “Tape” give a distant and grainy impression of violence. The former is cold and distant, following the sinister pace of Michael Myers. Busch sings about a shadowy evil whose shape isn't entirely clear, which could have been detailed God's country. But his final reaction to this nebulous malignancy, “let's see it again,” is effective in its brevity. This simple, open phrase, sung with Busch's trademark horror, suggests a sick delight in voyeurism—that what we are willfully watching is too sick to describe, but too fascinating to ignore. “Tape” is more formal and more textured, with a throbbing, choppy beat and bass that nods to Metallica's indelible “Enter Sandman” riff. Bush screams lyrics in tight phrasing, the flesh from his neck shredding from the muscle. “They made tapes!” he shouts. “It was the worst I've ever seen.” Here's the song is omitted details do the heavy lifting; you can imagine some hideous snuff film or news clip from Cambodia circa 1973.

Although Cool World it does not press with the same weight God's countryChat Pile's stylistic experiments pay off. “Funny Man,” for example, opens with a storm of drums and bass that could tear through a Glenn Branca track. Then, as if bursting out of the Trojan Horse, it transforms into smooth, melodic rock. Busch sings with a sharp and breathy beat that travels like some strains of Modest Mouse. Busch briefly addressed the brutality at God's countrybut in “Funny Man” he develops a more poetic and abstract conception of language:

I broke my knees on pearl and onyx
In the trophy room built to honor my father
Blood was shed, he gave them as much as they wanted
I still had to dance for my dinner
I still had to give them my body

With its cinematic lyrics and powerful leaps from no-wave to tailored indie to hardcore, “Funny Man” represents the pinnacle of Chat Pile's exploratory potential. Busch explained that the song is about “being a servant, indentured or otherwise,” but also suggests the physical price of wealth and the generational trauma of those who bleed for it. Chat Pile know that wherever you are from, all blood leaves the same stain.