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Strange Peace

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  • Sub Pop

The Toronto-based trio Metz have incorporated harmony into their heavy sound on their third full-length. They shift away from all-out abrasion, adding color to their eruptions.

Back in 1966, in a segment filmed for Dick Clark’s TV show “Where the Action Is,” the Who’s Pete Townshend equated volume with power, saying that the benefit of playing “fantastically loud” is that it gets people who would otherwise “turn a deaf ear” to pay attention. Fair enough, but what Townshend left out is that volume by itself doesn’t accomplish much other than make people numb. These days, sometimes less volume cuts through all the noise better. On their third full-length Strange Peace, Metz prove as much by dialing-down the jackhammer attack of their first two albums.

Which is not to say that the Toronto-based trio has ditched repetition as its primary mode of expression. But the main lyric on “Escalator Teeth” offers a clue that Metz are quite aware of pushing against their limits, as guitarist/singer Alex Edkins sings, “Machine-like repetition flows/Obscures my line of vision/And it takes hold/It goes on and on and on” before the song abruptly cuts off. It’s also apparent that the band sounded loud as fuck in the room where these tracks were recorded. In fact, most of the guitars, drums, and bass you hear on the album do break up a little, as if pushing past the maximum threshold the recording equipment would allow.

In 2012, on release of the band’s self-titled debut, guitarist/singer Alex Edkins said in an interview, “We try to take everything we do and make it redline.” The difference this time is that the album’s spacial ambience allows listeners some distance from the roar, which proves to be crucial. Ironically, this shift away from all-out abrasion comes in spite of the presence of Steve Albini. Of course, Metz have always worn their affinity for Albini’s work with the likes of the Jesus Lizard and his own band Big Black right on their sleeves. As it turns out, previous albums Metz and II were more faithful to Albini’s trademark cinema-verité production style without him.

Imagine the difference between a high-resolution photo print of an explosion versus being close enough to the explosion that you start coughing-up dust. Strange Peace, with its slicker mix and mastering finish, invites you to savor its details, unlike previous work. The change couldn’t have come at a better time, as Metz aren’t any less explosive than they were, but they’ve clearly added color to their eruptions. It would have been a mistake to smother the brilliance of those new colors with brute force.

On “Cellophane,” for instance, the band shows the utmost patience as it unveils its newfound affinity for melody in stages. At first, the song presents itself via the relentless repetition the band built its name on, a kind of fixation with pointed, blunt musical phrases. The jangle and thrum is ever so slightly sweetened, almost but not quite hummable—that is, until the song opens up unexpectedly onto an anthemic chorus. It is in this element of surprise, not volume, that Metz discover their true power as Strange Peace bounds from one mood to the next.

To be clear, Metz haven’t turned into a pop band. They’ve actually done the opposite, incorporating harmony without going soft. The fact that so few heavy bands have been able to pull that off attests to how difficult it is. With Strange Peace, Metz make it sound easy.

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