58 KERRANG!
I
n an age of genre playlists and easily
compartmentalised music, Torche’s
admirable refusal to be pigeonholed
has undoubtedly inhibited their
career advancement. That their own
record label suggests, more in hope than
expectation, that the group might appeal
to fans of Queens Of The Stone
Age, Fugazi and Mudhoney –
bands with almost nothing in
common sonically, aesthetically
or philosophically – is an
indication of the quartet’s singular
positioning within modern rock.
Across 15 years and four studio
albums, Steve Brooks’ band
have carved their own path,
never pursuing easy options,
forever seeking out new modes
of expression, new canvasses to
daub. If this mentality has ensured
that Torche remain a cult concern,
the frontman clearly considers it aworthwhile trade-off, with his integrity more
important than name recognition. ‘This snake
is best in motion,’ he sings on Slide, a neat
metaphor for his band’s restless artistic soul.
There are numerous peaks on what
might be Torche’s finest album since 2008’s
Meanderthal. The seesawing, stop-start
riffing of Submission calls to mind New
York riff-scientists Helmet circa 1992’s
masterful Meantime, as does the lurching
Reminder, a masterclass in minimalist
brutality, with Steve threatening to ‘Turn
the table on useless men’ while relentlessly
drilling one looped riff into the
listener’s brain. Times Missing,
described by the frontman
as “a Jekyll and Hyde song
about the nights you don’t
remember, but everyone else
does”, is hazier and prettier;
wistful, atmospheric, fractured
sludge-pop which wouldn’t be
out of place on a My Bloody
Valentine album. The hellish
Infierno is doomier and darker,
tar-thick and claustrophobic,
with an anguished Steve
singing that ‘God is punishing
me’ as the walls threatento cave in around him. Overloaded with
textured guitar fuzz, Changes Come
initially seems to offer a hint of sunshine
breaking through the clouds, until you
realise that he’s singing, ‘Last chance to
say goodbye... and we know it won’t be
long’, and that the words are coming from
the perspective of a protagonist embracing
oblivion. This disorienting mix of twinkling,
elevating melodies and none-more-bleak
lyricism is central also to the title-track
(the album’s stand-out cut), featuring the
haunting line, ‘I will pretend I don’t need
to love again.’ Steve has always tended to
couch his emotions in Delphic metaphors,
perhaps unsurprisingly given that he lost his
soulmate in a car accident right around the
time he founded the band in 2004, but here
he sounds naked and vulnerable and all the
more relatable as a result.
It’s unlikely that Admission will propel
Torche much beyond the margins of their
established fan base, but this is clearly where
they’re happiest – working out life’s big
questions in their own time, making sense of
the absurdity of existence in their own way.
There’s never been a better time to tag along
with their existential quest. PAUL BRANNIGANTorche
Admission(Relapse)KKKK
TORCHE deliver dark
thoughts and deep
grooves on fifth LP
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