Just when I thought that “Knocked Loose” would be the best album I’d hear this year, Chat Pile swooped in with their sophomore record, “Cool World.” The Oklahoma noise rock and sludge metal outfit popped onto my radar in 2022 with the release of their debut album, “God’s Country.” Admittedly, I wasn’t expecting anything wild from the follow-up album — I thought “God’s Country” was great but not mind-blowing, and I expected an album of similar quality. Instead, I was blown away by a grimy, nihilistic masterclass in underground rock.
Chat Pile fuses numerous abrasive and dark genres of rock music, combining elements of sludge metal, noise rock, post-punk, and even nu-metal into a mire of groovy yet disconcerting music. Whereas their first album laments the wasteland of middle America and the everyday horrors that come from poverty, isolation, and neglect, “Cool World” broadens Chat Pile’s scope to the wider world and the atrocities that humanity commits on a day-to-day basis.
The lead single and first track of the album, “I Am Dog Now,” shows the band at their grooviest — bass-heavy riffs locked into place with pounding drums as vocalist Raygun Busch growls over the calamity. The vocals are one of my favorite parts of Chat Pile’s sound — Busch sounds like a man truly on the brink as he alternates between gritted-teeth seething, disaffected melodic singing, and animal growls. On this track, he brings said growls to the forefront, establishing unsettling refrains by shrieking “I am dog now” and “Remember … everyone bleeds” as the track shifts from one lurching rhythm to another. This song sets the tone for the rest of the album, as it only gets bleaker from here.
“Shame” is a contender for one of my favorite songs of the year, even though it’s difficult to listen to due to the subject matter. The song discusses the experience of an American watching their government commit untold atrocities against innocent civilians. Given the band’s leftist views and the imagery evoked by some of the brutally graphic lyrics — “In their parents’ arms, the kids were falling apart / Broken tiny bodies holding tiny still hearts” — it’s hard to imagine the band wasn’t thinking of the ongoing atrocities currently being carried out in Palestine. It perfectly summarizes the feeling of powerlessness that comes from seeing these acts carried out on our phones every day, as well as the reaction of our unfeeling government as they act counter to the wishes of their people. The song ends with the repeated refrain “And the world was quaking open with all our fathers smiling / And the statues rose high above us and God remained silent” and concludes with “Shame … shame.” Busch’s detached singing and mournful intonations combine with muddy guitar riffs to create dark harmonies that loom over the heavy subject matter. It’s not a song that’s fun to listen to, but it’s one of the most powerful and resonant pieces of music I have heard in a very long time.
“Funny Man” delves deeper into themes surrounding the horrors of war in other countries and our role as spectators, as well as the role of the American military-industrial complex in indoctrination. The latter is clearly outlined in the first few lyrics of the song: “I broke my knees upon the pearl and onyx / In the hall of trophies built to honor my father / Spilled the blood, gave them as much as they wanted.” Shambling drum beats pair with uncanny guitar melodies during the verses, while the instrumental surges into a discordant stumble during the chorus as Busch repeatedly bellows “Outside there’s no mercy.” The concept of being forced in childhood into a militarized way of thinking and following the commands of the state are looming specters in the song.
“Masc” makes a slight stylistic switch-up, as the band goes for a less brutal and more atmospheric, almost indie-rock-influenced cut. Delving into themes of interpersonal anxieties and self-loathing, it leans into an emotional melancholy that feels surprisingly singular against the seething rage and global bleakness that characterize the rest of the album. The chorus “I trust and bleed” solidifies the song’s ideas of a narrator who feels alienated from the people he loves, and the song feels like being backed into a corner at a party. There is noise all around, and no one is there for you. The song enters into a thrashing chaos towards the end, providing an exciting conclusion to the track.
“No Way Out” is the final song on the album, and it feels like the album’s thesis. The song opens with the line, “From the time you were born it was over,” and the rest of the lyrics follow suit — from birth, our fates are decided, and we are locked into place with bureaucratic lies and social roles. None of our childhood dreams come true, and our time runs out much quicker than we expect. It’s bleak, to be sure, but that’s Chat Pile — unflinchingly dark and grim, staring you in the face with their message as if daring you to tell them they’re wrong. The song also features some of the eeriest riffs and lots of great rhythmic switch-ups. It’s a haunting but fitting ending to an album that drips with hopelessness and ire. There is no way out.
“Cool World” is incredibly grim and puts the bloody reality of humanity on full display. It’s not a “fun” album. It has some addictive percussion and catchy refrains, but it’s not interested in making you dance or vibe. No, this is music for late-stage capitalism, music to soundtrack war crimes, and music to grab you by the shoulders and scream in your face: “None of what is happening is okay.” And for that reason, I think it’s one of, if not the best, albums of the year and one of the finest of the decade. I suspect that few will enjoy it, but those who give it a real shot will hopefully see the beauty behind the grime of this album. It’s human in the most honest sense, and I think that should be commended.
