Originally written by Chris Redar
We’ve got a serious contender for the grind throne in Wake’s False.
There’s no way to tell exactly what humankind did to piss these Calgary denizens off this much, but please, bipeds; keep it up. This is grind as grind should be: fast, ugly, venomous and meant to be enjoyed at maximum volume for the entire block to hear. This is a non-stop machinegun to the chest that rarely lets off the trigger, and when it does, you’ll be reminded that you have, in fact, been shot in the chest and are now bleeding to death. And you’ll thank Wake afterwards.
False takes off from the starting line in full sprint. “Filth Addict” comes correct with an all-out assault of incredible riffing and an actual rhythm section. (That’s right. They have a bass player that actually plays the part of a bass player. In a grind band.) Exactly zero breathing time is afforded between this and “Foster,” which seamlessly flows from an old-school d-beat to a massive groove that will endanger any object within swinging rage to a punching and kicking fit.
There is not a single wasted opportunity on this album. Every track has a certain vitriol that justifies its existence, and not a single one is subtle. And though there are clearly a plethora of influences (think Nasum and Napalm Death having a picnic with Cephalic Carnage, and you’ll get an idea of what to expect), Wake do an incredible job of making something that sounds original; no easy feat in a genre as limited as grind.
Oddly enough, one of the best tracks here barely resembles grind. “The Fix Is In” mixes the sludge-dripping three-four boogie of Eyehategod with the caustic this-could-collapse-at-any-moment feeling of Prowler-era Pig Destroyer. The repeat button would do well to buy itself a replacement plan, as you’ll be listening to this one about a hundred times in a row.
It seems production on records goes one of two ways these days: So crystal-clear you can hear the producer muttering to himself behind the glass, or the sounds of ripping ass with a guy screaming over it. False hits the sweet spot. It’s dirty enough to remind you that, hey, this kind of shit isn’t supposed to be played at prom, but it’s clear enough to let all of the chemicals seep out of the barrel to properly infect you.
Most grind albums carry on far too long after the typical grind fan has lost interest. There’s usually a point where one thinks, “didn’t I just hear this song five songs ago?” Wake will have no such nonsense. Twenty minutes is all you get. By the time “Intrusion” has made its way through you like a wrecking ball with its two-speed blast and an outro that will have you gritting your teeth, you’ll have no choice but to press play again. This whole affair is like a well-planned heist: Get in, steal what you came to steal, get out. And leave no witnesses.
