"I had drifted o’er seas without ending, Under sinister grey-clouded skies That the many-fork’d lightning is rending, That resound with hysterical cries; With the moans of invisible daemons that out of the green waters rise."
-H.P. Lovecraft
Nemesis
Cautious and shrewd readers might recall that the last words written within this blog about the Québécois Chadhel was a January 2023 entry regarding the release of the prior year's Failure//Downfall. They have consistently been active for the better portion of a decade. The band has produced no less than one release annually with the single exception being in 2020, owing to a latter-day plague. Their 2023 offerings to the old gods consisted of a five inch lathe cut split record with French/German multinationals, Eastwood, as well as a split seven inch with Drummondville, Québec's Fâché in the spring of last year.
Failure//Downfall saw Chadhel unfurl their blackened wings and display the band's monstrous severity while taking advantage of the space and production that a full-length album affords you. Their 2023 short form split releases strategically consisted of more concise compositions. Yet, the insidious behemoth maintains their cultivated sound and swelling progressiveness.
The purveyors of cosmic terror and terrestrial despair, Chadhel, have rightfully claimed their perch upon the tower of grindcore's modern elite. Their polished, punctuated and fibrous musical marque remains principal. There is a blazing darkness that resounds brightly within their releases, especially in those that have been documented here in this blog.
Much akin to their often analogized confrères and inspirators—Pig Destroyer—Chadhel's metal twanged dissonant guitar burrows its way among hammering blast beats and soiled screams. The guitarwork is as penetrative as it is crushing. The frantic fingering fretwork is trickling with a dissonant deluge. The quick tottering between sawing and sirening is the driving heart of the band's salient sound as the guitar is the band's screaming aura of desolation.
That cry is personified, quite literally, in Chadhel's vocal performance. The band's lead vocals are yet again a further reflection of Pig Destroyer and their frontman, J.R. Hayes, with his distinctive tortured blatherings. Similarly, Chadhel's rendition sounds more like that of spews and smears than traditional grindcore croons. Their taunting sneers are flanked by a pair of deeper barks courtesy of the band's string section which fosters a strong back and forth.
Chadhel's customary surge of galloping basslines and battering drums are still as deeply engraved as you could want or remember. The boiling blast beats and trampling kick drum triggered tirades reign supreme. As the plowing drums stampede with exactitude, the bass guitar pulses underneath as a rhythmic heartbeat. Dark and slithering, it seethes.
To reiterate, Chadhel's side of the split very much remains in the same vein as their past few releases and I would like to think of them as hitting their stride within those said releases. Yet, their split with Fâché seemingly has the band performing decidedly more loose and springy. Not in a way that would suggest being out of pocket or diminishing the band's musicianship, but in a way that refers to a comfortability. Chadhel sounds like they are especially having fun on this record. The introductions to the songs "Mindless" and "Remnant Of A Glorious Past" are testimonials to the fact. The bounce and sashay of their half of this split rides the line of a buoyant impishness and a wonted dimly sinister brutality.
Chadhel's Québec countrymen, Fâché, are a new addition to the House of Grindcore stable as well as a new addition to my personal turntable. These strictly Francophonic grinders formed in 2021 deep in the throes of Covid. While Covid saw many bands and venues going belly up, the three members of Fâché found themselves idle, angry and with the intrinsical need to form a new band that mixed elements of grindcore, noise, powerviolence and hardcore punk. Since their formation in 2021, the band has sired half a dozen releases in the way of EP's, splits and most recently a sixteen minute, thirty-three track self-titled full-length via Horror Pain Gore Death Productions.
Now, what this split introduced me to was a truly ravenous band in Fâché. The band's music is a maniacal speed ball of savagery and momentum. They remind me a lot of a le français version of Mellow Harsher, bereft of any sense of a breakdown or breath. Even though the band has only been around for a short four years and six releases, they retain a remarkable amount of consistency from their first EP to their latest full-length. Songs are short and production is dirty without being negligent. The only difference from start to current is that the band seemingly used more harsh noise elements in the beginning that aren't as prevalent presently.
But as far as Fâché's split here with Chadhel, the band is just as relentless and pummeling as ever. The drumming is an exhaustive mowing of blast beats and snare rolls. If there's a style of drumming or a specific beat that you've heard prior within the genre, chances are you'll hear a piece of it mixed into one of these thirty second songs—stiff armed metal chops to mechanized blast beats. The latter is emphasized by the metallic chipping of the cymbals, sounding comparable to the fast reciprocation of the charging handle on a semi-automatic assault rifle.
Similar to Fâché's crazed drumming, the band's vocals are just as frenzied. The Loup-Garou styled vocals are utterly unhinged. They shift unpredictably from one second to the next, from one riff to the next, like a Hollywood exorcism film or dissociative identity disorder gone haywire. The vocals careen from gremlin-esque growls to gore-filled gutturals to powerviolence grunts to strangled screams that are so searing that you'll feel like you need a lozenge from just listening to them. There is even a rendition that sounds like the howling high winds of a tornadic storm. Unless I am mistaken, I am fairly certain that each member of the band is contributing their own unique take on vocals and are creating a whirlwind of a violence.
The guitarwork on this split—as it is on most all of Fâché's releases—is a blown out blast of zooming distortion. Their fast paced punk riffs serve as a musical backdrop to the chaos, supplying some sense of catchiness—a term that I use very loosely. Unfortunately, the bass guitar is largely lost in the fuzz of the mix and fails to make any real impression. But this is rarely problematic in grindcore.
2023's split between Chadhel and Fâché stands as a well made, exceptionally paired pressing of grindcore vinyl. The regional partnership of two Québec born bands playing two distinctly different brands of the genre makes for a valuable release. Chadhel brings a polished and exacting death-grind, whereas Fâché exhibits a more raw and chaotic punk laced grindcore. Both bands sound like they are really enjoying themselves on this release. While Chadhel carry themselves with a dark and disciplined exuberance, Fâché are seemingly fully taking the piss—albeit with a healthy amount of unabashed rage. This EP is a fun, blast heavy record that is sure to incite multiple spins. And as I did, a lot of listeners might find a new and amazing band in Fâché after betting on a sure thing in Chadhel.
As I look north beyond Chapel Hill, past the Great White, into the spreading blur of denser blackness, I see the growing frenzy. I hear the storm—the blast beats—the grindcore—Yog-Sothoth save me.
FFO: Pig Destroyer, Maruta, Mellow Harsher, Hørdür
Listen to the album: https://chadhel.bandcamp.com/album/split-7-fach
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