Gut Reaction:

Blue Collars on Planet Industrial

Welcome, hardworking comrades, to our scrapyard of musical oddities in this third edition of Gut Reaction, where our fingernails are always dirty and there’s somehow always more work to be done. Today we’re looking at albums depicting the realms of uniformed, blue-collar workers, because the landfill’s surely an orchestra if you squint really hard, right? Records here smell faintly of chemicals or like something awful burning in the breakroom microwave. Who tried to light a cigarette with a blowtorch again? Come on, guys; we talked about this in the last union meeting!

Instead of three albums, we’re looking at five to make up for missing an article release yesterday and the day before (hey, I’m a working woman too, comrades). Genres here are varied despite the shared visual theme (when aren’t they)? On the chopping block today, we’re feeding hardcore Indonesian post-punk, American rock and roll, French new wave, Korean alt-folk, and ol’ reliable electronica into the machine. There’s certainly a hard edginess in all of these, though (because come on, punk is definitely the genre of the proletariat). Despite that, whatever you’re into, you can find your own slice of coolant-coated divine inspiration if you’re willing to turn off the sawing machine long enough. 

Thanks for clocking in and wandering around the shop floor with us on this grimy edition of Gut Reaction. These albums are proof that hard labor isn’t for the faint of heart, and under the right fluorescent light, complexities beyond comprehension spew forth from the chopping block. As always, if something sparks your curiosity (or you’re just feeling that forklift fantasia), please consider digging further into these artists on Bandcamp. Support your fellow working humans by purchasing a digital copy, CD, vinyl record, or other merch. We hope you continue to support us here in our factory of music by tuning in next time. Until then, solidarity forever, you messy weirdos.

  • Age of Roaches thrives on contradiction. From its gorgeous cover (hello hazmat suits waltzing in a Rococo ballroom) to the technical, minimalist, sterile feel that’s actually emotionally wrecked underneath. At its surface, it’s hard to define, but it has elements to me of dream pop with psychedelic rock influences. However, those crystal-clear vocals and spattering of unique samplings leaves an eerie impression that lingers in the liminal, like a bubble about to pop but that never does. There’s an unmistakable mid-Covid malaise here; a primal need to move forward but there’s nowhere to go. Mourning becomes meditation, but it remains apprehensive and infected, waiting for the unexpected stab in the back.

    Favorite: “Stephen Hawking”

  • Following in the hard-hat footsteps of DEVO’s “Working in a Coal Mine,” The Cosmo Cleaners manufacture noisy, mechanical post-punk and grungy art rock at its finest. It’s textbook “egg punk,” with jittery vocal throws and topics as left field as having sex with cars to ladder operation (we all know how ladders work, don’t we?). Guitars clang like metal pipes, not letting the energy dip until midway through the album, before finally trading harder punk rock with spoken word elements and longer, more contemplative scenes. The ghost of DEVO has been trapped in that boiler room for decades. I’m happy it found another vessel to enter. Clearly, The Uranium Club is the modern voice of the timecard existentialist.

    Favorite: “Grease Monkey”

  • Distilled punk rebellion for the system oozes out of The Spectacle of Perpetual Motion, accompanied by DIY-feeling garage rock with burning vocals that alternative between English and Indonesian. The vocals very drastically in delivery, from spoken word segments to yell-sung mania. Despite all of the chaos, it mantains a perfect balance between energy and rest in its song compositions, which is something I think a lot of punk struggles with. Yes, punk thrives on high energy, but knowing when to rest so the comrades can catch their breath is an important skill which PEEL masters here. There’s a threat, urgency, and disbelief that’s passionately conveyed despite the lo-fi production.

    Favorite: “Blood Game”

  • It’s clear what the thesis is here: the album opens with cheery bird song, before something disturbing slithers through. Then, the world crackles and hellish guitar break through. Like Age of Roaches (2020) reviewed in this same article, this album is undeniably a product of Covid, but it makes clear all of humanity is complicit in the planet’s destruction. Rooted in French post-punk and cold wave with a powerful rock and roll guitar to drive things, the album feels like a final yelp of pain before humanity’s lights flicker out. There’s no hope here; only blame and extinction.

    Favorite: “Path of Extinction”

  • This album drifts in like a lullaby sung by someone stuck between here and the afterlife, but it’s comforting, not haunting. You’re standing in the hallway of your childhood home when you hear the ghost’s singing, and after the initial panic fades, you realize it’s your deceased mother or sister, singing of her regrets but also expressing a profound passion. To leave the metaphors behind, at its core, it’s part acid folk, soul balladry mostly led by the bouncy but sorrowful vocals and the acoustic guitar. However, occasional jazzy elements and inspired sound effects provides the album its warmth.

    Favorite: “Broken Mirror”