(Andy Synn stands up to be counted alongside Washington D.C. Hardcore crew NØ MAN)
People sometimes (and by “sometimes” I mean “frequently”) get very mad at the assertion that all music is, in some way, political.
And I get why, to an extent.
After all, for a lot of people the use of the term “political” is a negative thing… they think of it as being lectured, being told what to think, who to vote for, etc.
But that’s not really what it means.
In fact it’s the very act of making music that’s an inherently political statement, especially when it comes to Metal/Punk/Hardcore… genres that various government and regimes around the world have frequently decried as decadent, degenerate, and a threat to the youth.
That’s what we really mean when we say that it’s “political”, because by picking up that guitar, screaming into that microphone, bashing away at those drums, what you’re doing is taking a stand and asserting yourself, creating art that is for yourself, not to serve the state or the economy but to express something freely and openly and – perhaps most importantly – loudly.
And, on their new album (out this Friday), Washington D.C. quartet NØ MAN are as loud, as proud, and as in-your-face about who they are as they’ve ever been.
Vocalist Maha Shami, in particular, is more open and forthright about her sense of self, her identity and her heritage as the daughter of Palestinian, and how her experiences inform her worldview, not just when delivering lines like “At the edge of the world, pregnant hearts sing / A dead town’s blues” (“Pregnant Hearts”) and “Proof of life we lift our dead to the sky / Perfect victims grin and bear it, lay down to die” (“They Have Names”) but by also incorporating direct influence and inspiration from the works of Palestinian poets like Mahmoud Darwish, Fadwa Tuqan, and Ghassan Kanafani (from whom the album’s title is drawn).
But while Shami’s thrilling, throat-ripping performance is undoubtedly the heart of Between the Sword and the Neck, the backbone of the album is built around the rough-hewn, raggedly-distorted riffs, dense, dark-hued bass-lines, and sharp, snappy drums of Matthew Michel, Kevin Lamiell, Pat Broderick, respectively, who take their experiences from their time in/as Majority Rule and continue to crank up the intensity which made their previous albums (particularly 2024’s Glitter and Spit) such hard-hitting, heart-wrenching experiences.
At the same time, however, there’s also more variety – along with just as much venom (Shami immediately spitting fire and brimstone fury with the vicious opening lines, “Cracked lens, got some girls on film? Gagged but in frame” of “In Spite”) – on display in the band’s modus operandi, with darker, moodier moments like the sludgy “Moan”, the predatory, bass-driven prowl of “Murmur”, and the heaving, almost Post-Metal, catharsis of “Blood and Paper” providing a welcome, and equally killer, contrast to the blistering assault of tracks like “Run Faster” and savage early stand-out “Zoo” in a manner reminiscent (to my ears at least) of Oathbreaker at their best.
Through it all, however, it’s the band’s unflinching honesty and unwavering committment – musically, lyrically, and conceptually (aforementioned mid-album highlight “They Have Names”, for example, ending with a recitation of “the names of friends and family lost to the ongoing occupation and ethnic cleansing of Palestine, read by those who loved them”) – to expressing their own vision, in their own voice, which makes Between the Sword and the Neck not only one of the most impactful albums of the year, but also the definitive statement about who NØ MAN are and what they stand for.