PISS release thought-provoking debut, you made me / skin on linen
I know, funny band name, but this is not something you can listen to lightly. The Vancouver four-piece have been steadily growing their reputation over the past couple of years, known for the intensity of their live performances. After a handful of singles over the past couple of months, October 30th marked the release of their debut album you made me / skin on linen, and it is undoubtedly one of the year’s most important records. It’s an incredibly harrowing 30 minutes of raging, noisy, feminist punk/hardcore tracks interspersed with collaged spoken word passages and interview samples – all tightly focused on experiences of sexual assault, rape culture, and the unshakeable trauma of its victims. There is no ambiguity. The message is clear: PISS calls for radical action in the face of violence against women. Like I said, by no means easy listening – but vital.
The heart of this LP is frontwoman Taylor Zantingh’s lyricism and vocal performance. In the first song “i wanted to be a singer”, her uneasy narrating quickly builds into these agonised screaming vocals, and the closing lines speak for themselves: “I learned some people only believe you when your knees are bleeding / I learned some people only listen when you’re screaming / But I wanted to be a singer”. The sheer emotion poured into the delivery of every word imbues the record with a dreadful urgency, immediately showcasing Zantingh as one of the most impressive, harsh vocalists on the scene. The power of her refrains will haunt you, ricochet in your mind as the darkness resonates – exactly what impactful message-driven music like this is aiming for. “Women don’t come” from “time loop at hot slit”, “Does your wife know that you sewed your hands on my back?” on “blocking a scene you can’t remember”: so filled with hatred and disgust for the ubiquity of misogyny, and firmly re-centring the victim’s perspective in a world so keen to give men second chances.
What sells the record though is how the band works together. The pummelling riffs, the screeching tone of the noisier breakdowns, the patience in the slower building tracks. Tyler Paterson’s guitar, Gavin Moya on bass, and Garreth Roberts’s drumwork, each component completely brilliant and perfectly entangled – the mixing makes sure every one of these elements shines. The interludes, with clips from feminist icons such as Andrea Dworkin and Gisèle Pelicot, are just as important as the tracks too – not a moment is wasted. So do yourself a favour and listen to PISS: be disturbed, sickened, and inspired to develop an atmosphere where “Resistance is Possible”.
