An extraordinary debut this. Completely fierce.
Somewhat to their own surprise Vancouver punks PISS have toured far and wide the past couple of years, playing basically the set that makes up You Made Me / Skin On Linen and gathering the sort of stunned approval and word of mouth that has landed them on Sub Pop with considerable expectation accompanying their first release. They meet that moment. The album is incredibly well realised and powerful, a fully integrated work of art.
Now, when bands pop up with a bit of a buzz, trailing excitable sentences like that last one just there, I know some people are inclined to just fold their arms and narrow their eyes. Guilty of it myself at times. There are some obstacles here for sure. First up, it’s a terrible name and that odd kind of double title isn’t much of a winner either. Both things which become even more confusing once you realise how sharply controlled the writing in the songs is. Taylor Zantingh’s use of language is inventive and concise, her delivery finely balancing intellect and intensity.
I’m not a big fan of the sleeve art either if I’m honest but it does provide a nice illustration of the contents as a patchwork quilt of moments and ideas carefully stitched together. Personal and greater truths, knowledge passed down through generations of women. It brings a little more to the title too. You Made Me / Skin On Linen is a raging feminist punk record about trauma. Sure, you’ve heard that before but it goes beyond screaming fury and emotional bloodletting in a layered and compelling way. It’s uneasy listening. It maybe needs a little trigger warning.
One way they do this is using clips of speech to break up the record, Andrea Dworkin on porn, Toni Morrison on grace, Manon Garcia on Gisele Pelicot, Vikki Reynolds on rape culture. They do this well, more substantial than soundbites but not too long to interrupt the flow. The whole album really works as a single piece. Given the subject matter it’s hard to describe as enjoyable exactly but the music is inventive and finely honed to a diamond hard point.
The carefully mapped structure and the way lyrics and music work together make it almost theatre more than rock ‘n’ roll but it is so alive. It’s measured and ordered in a way that might seem to contrast the fury in the writing but only acts to intensify it. ‘I wanted to be a singer’ addresses this directly “I spent my life trying to turn my pain into something beautiful” while ‘blocking a scene you can’t remember’ draws on the theatrical idea. To an extent the focal point of the record and the track most likely break free of the whole (honestly, just listen to the entire thing) ‘blocking…’ is a slow building storm with a typically smart lyrical idea that ends up reaching out far beyond itself.
Incredible.
