On an adventurous new album, the New York hardcore band populates a swamp of chugs with weird creatures of electronica and sudden clearings of melodic, galloping punk.
I saw Corpus, the label formed around New York hardcore punk band Show Me the Body, participate in the Red Bull Culture Clash in Brooklyn earlier this year. It’s a corporate event modeled on dancehall soundclash culture, where crews of musicians face off on opposing stages. From one corner of the Greenpoint venue Warsaw, one of Corpus’ opponents, the DJ collective Half Moon, proclaimed that they “represent Brooklyn. The real Brooklyn.” Taunts are part of the sportsmanship of a soundclash, but this one struck a nerve—on Corpus’ next turn, one of the label’s crew responded with an emphatic “Suck my dick!” This is an old problem for Corpus, Show Me the Body, and a lot of artists in New York: How weird can they get before they’re no longer “real”? How close to dance music will Show Me the Body be allowed to come before Redditors curl their lips?
On Trouble the Water, Show Me the Body’s third full-length album, their experimentations often strike gold. The band’s daring pays off when vocalist Julian Cashwan Pratt breaks his voice wide open on tracks that dig into sounds that are firsts for the band, and consummate what were previously flirtations with dance music. On “Radiator,” a single chanted refrain of “Don’t it make you wanna go home?” with double-tracked vocals calls up the Ramones. The band pairs the look at punk’s past with one from its future, overlaying the whole track with an incessant synthesizer belch. Whereas on their previous full-length, 2019’s Dog Whistle, they leaned primarily on their proficiency for creating menacing atmosphere, throughout Trouble the Water, the band populates what might otherwise be a swamp of chugs with weird creatures of electronica and sudden clearings of melodic, galloping punk. On “Demeanor” and “Using It,” they switch between hardcore and noise, sometimes fluidly, sometimes abruptly; press materials attribute the glitchy textures to bassist Harlan Steed. “I wanna feel what I’ve never felt before,” Pratt growls over “Demeanor.” Yes!
Trouble the Water is also a showcase for Pratt’s expanding talents as a vocalist and a lyricist. He roars, shrieks, leers: On “Food From Plate,” he breaks suddenly from a credible death-metal bark to a light chuckle. Right after “They think it’s sweet” in his trademark snarl on “War Not Beef” comes “They think it’s e-e-easy” in a mocking falsetto, before the tempo hikes and the track tumbles forward in double time. He is a shapeshifter, becoming a different entity nearly every second. The first half of “WW4” is melancholy, and by the end, the very same lyrics are a martial chant.
The waging of war is a consistent concern on Trouble the Water. “They don’t belong here!” Pratt spits on the chorus of lead single “We Came to Play,” and “I don’t regret violence” on opening track “Loose Talk.” Gentrification and a fierce hostility to the changing New York remain a lyrical focus. I think this disposition reveals why Show Me the Body find it more difficult to shake off sneers like the ones thrown at them at Warsaw, aimed at their authenticity. When you wield the double-edged sword of Not Fucking With Certain Shit, you can get cut: laughed at for cringey interviews or called assholes for swatting phones out of the hands of the audience. Show Me the Body are in the arena, where they choose to be, where they belong. Here, you can’t get by being a guy who everyone likes. You have to be really fucking good.
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