(DGR reviews the new album by Organ Dealer from New Jersey.)
This one may wind up a little shorter than my usual screeds…maybe. But I promise you, when you hear it you’ll understand why.
There is a moment in the movie The Raid 2 in which a man has his face held against a grill until it is completely seared off — no doubt one of the more butal fight scenes in a movie with an amazing second half. That man’s face is often how I have begun to picture myself after the end of a listening session with New Jersey-based hyperviolent grind band Organ Dealer’s upcoming release Visceral Infection.
Organ Dealer are a new face on the scene, having to their name only a demo from 2014 (both songs on said demo appear on this new release) and their new upcoming EP. Yet theirs is a name that you should get prepared to hear a lot really, really soon.
Organ Dealer are coming ashore as part of a new grind invasion. It’s been steadily gaining steam for a bit, but over the past couple of years it has felt like the number of high-explosive, technical, and outright batshit grind bands coming head-on with a seemingly out-of-nowhere powerviolence surge has become the new thing. Lesser Life are another constant go-to when it comes to this sort of sound.
It takes a lot of work to make a one-and-a-half minute song interesting enough to come back to time and time again, but many of these bands are creating some legitimately interesting expulsions of noise that sometimes masquerade as music. At the very least, you could never deny that these bands have an insane amount of enthusiasm and passion.
One of the reasons I feel like this wave has slowly been growing and that we are now sitting atop its crest has been the oft-repeated mantra around here of grind being one of the ultimate plug-and-play genres — where folks can just gather together and bang out song after song.
Many of these musicians are able to propogate themselves across multiple projects. The gentlemen of Organ Dealer have a few to their name, but this one right now, this is the one they seem to be all-in-on, as Visceral Infection contains a whole splattering of the usual repetoire of instruments just being slammed against the wall and thrown from a three-story building. Visceral Infection is Organ Dealer’s excuse to try and capture a cacophony on disc, and we just so happen to be the lab rats to test if they got it right.
Visceral Infection begins with the aptly titled “Intro”, which surprisingly enough has an actual piece of music attached to it and isn’t just some random bit of orchestration and movie samples. It is an instrumental song, but given that I’m usually able to get through a full run of Visceral Infection in the amount of time it takes the get a pot of coffee going, you can probably guess that “Intro” isn’t exactly a musical Homerian epic.
However, “Intro” is one of the few moments of solid groove and guitar before Organ Dealer spend the rest of the time sanding away at the listener’s ears with a speedy attack that seems to come from the upper registers of music. Organ Dealer wanted an excuse to shriek, and goddamnit, they are going to shriek.
After “Intro” is when you really get introduced to what what the eighteen minutes of Visceral Infection will sound like. When the music goes full-bore and the band have their whole lineup going, that is when the razors come out and things reach a super-fast tempo and never let up. Organ Dealer are propelled by fast drumming that you could argue is tight, if there weren’t the sense that behind it is just sheer anarchy, giving favor to blastbeats constantly driving everyone forward.
“KPC-0XA48” is a blistering mess of a song that takes its cues from “Pear Of Anguish”, as that track appeared on last year’s demo. Of course, “Pear Of Anguish” appears as well — with seemingly a longer run-time and a new title in the form of “The Pear Of Anguish”. How much extra time do you get for the extra word? About two seconds.
The music on Visceral Infection is mostly a tightly wound ball of explosive anger, madness, and confusion — mostly arising from the constant guitar wailing that tends to get disorienting incredibly quickly — all done while the instruments make it sound like the band are throwing themselves off the walls.
Organ Dealer’s music is neatly packed together. Songs like “No Answer” and “Piss & Gasoline” tend to run smack dab into each other, and since both combined are about three minutes long they feel like one track split up by a brief break. The low, black-metal-esque growls and the howling vocal interchanging in “Piss & Gasoline” are what really signal when that track has ended, which then leads you into the already spoken-of “Pear Of Anguish”.
The manic vocal delivery of the first couple of songs is pretty much what you can expect for the whole disc, but it is also integral to how Organ Dealer just want to sound like this vomited-forth brand of grind insanity. Most of the guitars are saw-tooth sharp, and the drumming pretty much rotates between an inferno of blasts and cymbal work that sounds like the poor guy must be making constant runs to the local shop to replace new broken ones; at the very least, each one on that kit has a couple of cracks and chips in it.
Visceral Infection does have the effect of feeling like a disc written in one space and one frame of mind. The band moving at the tempo at which they move pretty much insures that the whole disc was basically going to come down like a giant rock. It’s a densely packed recording, each track filled with emotion and then shuffling off to go yell at somebody else.
Visceral Infection is the sort of disc you come to when you want one massive dose of a partiular feeling, and since the group keep their songs trim and quick-moving — connected only by small batches of reverb and the occasional feedback — the album itself feels like one song that has been broken up by force.
You could view the way Organ Dealer are moving on this disc like the band are in the midst of a psychotic break, and the trip from beginning to end is the one that starts with standing on a steet corner yelling at people and ends in an alleyway tucked into a corner mumbling utter gibberish. The group’s lyrics don’t reflect that, but the band have a psychological element to them, at least from what I’ve grasped lyrically. They don’t seem interested in the standard gore-soaked euphoria of death metal and instead feel like they’re trying to justify a reason for all of that speed — in this case the manic and deranged ravings of a lunatic.
Right now, there aren’t too many bands that sound like Organ Dealer — off-hand, I can think of maybe five in the same sphere — but I would not be shocked to see that there will be many more like this really, really soon, because discs like Visceral Infection are the type that preceed a massive breakout; this sort of hyperfast, ultraviolent grind is one that has been camped on the edge for a bit while it has slowly absorbed more and more of punk’s theatrics.
Visceral Infection is out on July 14th and it is basically a massive jolt forward into a wall. In its twenty-minute span is music designed to leave you looking like you’ve just stumbled out of a tumble dryer. It’s a disorienting, blast-filled, abrasive mess worth looking into. And man, is it exciting to see that artwork plastered on our front page for a bit.
Stream the album here: