Black Iron Prison Black Iron Prison LP

Here we have a fringe case of subtraction leading to something truly unique and impressive. Toronto’s BLACK IRON PRISON genuinely took me aback with their abstractive and deconstructive approach to powerviolence. But to be fair, I’m feeling bad for even trying to put this thing in a box. Is it even possible to call it powerviolence at this point? It is too constructed to call noise, but too deranged to categorize as any conventional genre. Even Iron Lung, the legendary label that constantly releases the most out-of-left-field music ever made, refrains from describing it in a literal sense. But for the sake of giving you a vague idea of what to expect, I’d say it sounds like FOOT VILLAGE and the BODY had a fucked up abomination of a baby—or rather, a featureless, hollow mold of a “baby”—and then fed it nothing but dull razor wires and dry ice. And if you want me to be slightly more descriptive, the whole LP consists only of claustrophobic, pummeling, yet weirdly ritualistic drums, and hysteric vocals of someone who is trying to rip out of their body with utmost urgency. There is occasionally some miscellaneous noise sprinkled on top as well, but that’s pretty much it. Sorry folks, no guitar, bass, or riffs today! But come on, who needs those when the whole record sounds like a bouquet of shining, sterilized, ice-cold surgical knives? It’s perfect as is, and I’m willing to fight anyone who thinks otherwise.