I remember remarking, during the — good lord, I really hate that I have to qualify this — first fucking Trump administration, that the solitary silver lining was that maybe — just maybe — we’d get some new, galvanizing protest music out of the debacle. I looked forward to hearing the same spirit of uncompromising, invective-laden fury that fueled much of the anti-Reagan/anti-Thatcher hardcore and post-punk of the `80s. Surely, this brazen new level of fatuous corruption, proudly incurious idiocy and thinly-veiled avarice would spark that same vein of rage. But with the possible exception of maybe Dead Cross and YG & Nipsey Hussle, all the world really got was a steady diet of Ed Sheeran, Bruno Mars and Taylor Swift.*
One could depressingly argue that, given the state of popular culture’s dependency on new technology and social media, music no longer serves the same purpose that it did in that comparatively simpler era. By and large, the popular songs of today don’t so much reflect our reality so much as obfuscate and distract from our reality, readily reducing themselves to background entertainment and fodder for inane TikTok clips. Music as a vehicle for expression of dissent, release and emotional catharsis? Try getting that from Sabrina Carpenter.
Mercifully, there are still exceptions to the rule. Back with their second EP in seven months, Light of Eternity (L.O.E., for short) returns here in mid-December with Aftershock, another four-fisted faceful of songs that arrive with all the cheery delicacy of a plutonium-coated sugar plum. Those expecting a clutch of holiday covers are in for a bumpy Christmas morning.
Retaining the oomph and urgency of their debut EP from last June (which I rapturously wrote about here), this new pack of tracks finds the trio stretching out a bit more, adding different textures to their expanse of sound. But when the band leans into their attack, each member brings the full assertive palette of their abilities to the table. Fred Schreck’s sonorous vocals remain as strikingly elastic as on the debut. On guitar detail, Pauly Williams continues to open up his arsenal, showcasing a penchant for thick, melodic lines, hefty riffs, rafter-shaking power chords and a tenacious chug. As ever, Big Paul Ferguson drums like a man driven by a pronounced sense of purpose.
That purpose speaks to my earlier lamentation. Somewhere between wake-up call, scathing screed and venomous rejoinder, the whole of the Aftershock EP is essentially a reflection of the times and topically rooted in defiance of a doomy dystopia. For those paying attention, this record couldn’t be more well-timed, as the world teeters nervously on the precipice of the next four years. No punches are pulled, no quarter is given and no prisoners are taken.
It would be a bit disingenuous to argue that the spirit of Killing Joke, Ferguson's legendary band whose sudden suspension in the wake of the tragic passing of guitarist Geordie Walker last year, doesn’t palpably reside in this music, and, indeed, a nation of KJ fans will doubtlessly find much to savor in this new EP.
But in as much as the sensibility and certain genetic elements of the Joke inform proceedings, make no mistake — L.O.E. is very much its own band and its own entity. Aftershock is another bracing demonstration of this trio's expanding abilities, and bodes exceptionally well for a future musical oeuvre that will serve as a nourishing, emotional catalyst for refusal and resistance. Find it on Bandcamp and celebrate accordingly.
*I fully realize this is something of a sweeping generalization.
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