Citing death metal and Phil Spector as influences, the Kentucky metalcore band turn in an absurdly heavy EP that tells an even heavier story about death and grief.
If Knocked Loose haven’t been subject to much critical analysis, that’s just an occupational hazard of the kind of gut-level metalcore the quintet play here: the guitars churn out either dyspeptic, detuned chug or octave-shifted panic chords. Vocalist Bryan Garris is a one-man Milgram experiment, shrieking like he’s getting a 285-volt shock and bellowing demonically like the guy pushing the button. Dramatic cymbal accents come courtesy of a guy from Kentucky nicknamed “PacSun.” There are video game samples, car crash sound effects, and a point when the music drops out for a deadpan recitation of the title. Many times, similar gestures amount to a caricature of intense, serious music that’s nearly impossible to take seriously. But while A Tear in the Fabric of Life still sounds hyperbolic enough to override any left brain activity, Knocked Loose apply themselves with purpose to tell a story with real emotional depth.
Though Knocked Loose’s studio albums have been hailed as modern scene classics, they fall victim to another occupational hazard of metalcore: being seen as the “home version,” secondary to the irrefutable ferocity of the live show. In 2021, Knocked Loose occupy a space similar to that of, say, Code Orange or Turnstile before they got snapped up by major labels—currently too aggro to appeal to the average music fan, yet too big to overlook. A Tear in the Fabric of Life isn’t the crossover event one might expect after the band’s 2019 breakthrough A Different Shade of Blue; it’s a conceptual EP accompanied by an animated short film and a wealth of references. Before the deadly car crash that sets the narrative in motion, a distracted flip of a radio dial lays out A Brief History of Knocked Loose: a dialogue sample from the psychological horror video game P.T., first heard on 2019’s “In the Walls”, the lyrics of which are later used for a climactic plot twist on “Return to Passion”; a snippet of “Blue,” the Leann Rimes song that Knocked Loose used as walkout music during their last tour; and an Alabama Sacred Harp Singers spiritual featured in Cold Mountain.
Knocked Loose’s commercial and critical fortunes have grown in direct proportion to their uncompromising approach, so they don’t even pay lip service to conventional accessibility. They cite death metal and Phil Spector as the EP’s main influences, though their only nod to ’60s pop is a literal one: A sample of “God Only Knows” serves as a contrasting moment of levity and a binding agent within the storyline. With Knocked Loose, it’s not the chorus or the melody or the build that matters; to the extent these even exist, they’re in service of bringing back the nasty riff but slower, or introducing a new one in double time. If anything, the band has only become more adept at recreating the sound of reckless driving, all slammed brakes, sudden veers, and riffs that sound like a truck backfiring in a ditch.
The EP’s subject matter and concision moderate some of Knocked Loose’s more taxing qualities, so while it’s certainly heavy, A Tear never feels melodramatic. Garris’ vocals have the shellshocked sound of a man trying to lift a midsize sedan with bare hands and adrenaline, and the compressed, face-to-the-glass urgency of Will Putney’s production ensures the fatal wreck feels as real as Garris’ struggle with survivor’s guilt. “God knows I belong in hell/That’s why he left me there by myself,” he howls. A Tear in the Fabric of Life will, understandably, inspire some people to simply bypass the lyrics and fixate on whether the swole riffage of “Where the Light Divides the Holler” and “Forced to Stay” can help them get that last rep. Give A Tear in the Fabric of Life the attention it deserves and it becomes clear why every song needs at least two things called a “breakdown”: This is the sound of a man at physical and emotional ruin.
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