Psychiatric Metaphors (aka PSYCH METS) is the long-standing alias of singer/songwriter Sam Taylor. Now working with the rather mysterious Acid On Toast Records, his new ninth album – entitled Northeastern Industrial – is, according to Taylor, “a love letter to the forgotten industrial badlands of New Jersey, New York, and Pennsylvania and the oasis of natural world that exists around them”.
Beginning the album with the most recent single, Rust Breath, this is immediately quite apparent. A jagged, sepia-toned, crunchy psych/garage number, it feels ramshackle, nostalgic and anthemic – like The Brian Jonestown Massacre trying their hand at covering a Bruce Springsteen classic. There is also a Sonic Youth-esque vibe to the noise created, down to the way the elements combine to make something both eminently lovable and undeniably unholy. There is also a very palpable melancholy here in both delivery and lyrical content. “Watch me crumble like weathered steel”, “Drag the lake, I won’t be found”, Taylor croons, and we can’t help but think about the plight of neglected structures – and their gradual degradation – but also the same for many sorrowful, solitary human souls.
This is followed by another prior single in the form of Hurry Up & Wait, which feels considerably jauntier than its predecessor as it begins. Angular and ramshackle, but still ostensibly poppy – it has a charm that will resonate with fans of artists like Kurt Vile and Deerhunter. There is a scuzzy quality to the lead guitar tone that cuts through the wall of sound satisfyingly, and the melody is very memorable – special shout out to the bassline, which holds the whole thing together very nicely.
Good Night is the last of the three singles that preceded the release of the album and is an altogether gentler affair. Starting with a subtle electric guitar, it is soon joined by a second shimmery one. Like a more subdued Wolf Parade, there’s an undertone of urgency to the song that feels like it contradicts its very deliberately measured pace. Perhaps it’s the vocal delivery – imbued with an earnestness and an openness – it feels heartfelt and important to the singer, so it feels that way to the listener too. By the end of the song, we’re getting slight Volcano Choir vibes and even a touch of Boulevard Of Broken Dreams-era Green Day, how about that for a combo?
Ain’t It Sad veers into alt-country territory, whilst still retaining the rock n roll grit that’s been prevalent throughout. It’s twangy, dirty and throbby – again, the bass is doing some heavy lifting. We’re reminded of one of our favourite recent discoveries, Southern California’s wonderful one-man band The Lonely Suns. This is followed by Marbletown, which adopts a similarly considered tempo to Good Night but feels much more raw in its execution. We’re reminded of – and inspired by – the delightfully unrefined DIY spirit of Ty Segall, and the BJM influence is still prominent.
Conversely, Eastern Shores feels summery and upbeat. It seems to channel the BJM’s frenemies, The Dandy Warhols, a little bit in the intro. As the song proceeds, it quickly becomes apparent how well-balanced everything is. The mix is really superb – everything in its right place – as Radiohead once said – and, equally importantly, in just the right quantities. The songwriting almost feels bubblegummy – like it could be a slacker/garage/punk cover of a ’90s pop song. It’s really incredibly well put together.
Out In The Pines is drenched in tremolo and shimmers and shifts uncontrollably – in the best way possible. Creating a mirage of sound in the intro, it sets the tone and then swiftly deviates from it, becoming more tender, sweet and pared-back in the verses. The chorus kicks in, and it gets big again – it’s a tried and tested song structure that has worked reliably for many, and this song is no exception.
The title track has a stompy feel to it from the outset – it’s the most alt-rock sounding moment thus far. It grows organically and ends up sounding absolutely huge. There is almost a J Mascis quality to the creamy, warm, fuzzy lead guitar tone at points, and it’s a nice change in tone and texture. The sludginess almost feels a little Jesus & Mary Chainy – which we’re very enthusiastic about – fans of the band will surely dig this too.
Loraine (Pine Barrens) feels deceptively sweet as it begins. Melodically, we’re reminded of Oasis’ epic opus All Around The World, which was, of course, deeply indebted to the sound and songwriting prowess of The Beatles. The delivery is, of course, far removed here, but the melody and musicality are there. We would suggest that Taylor’s musical influences are worn proudly on his sleeve, and they serve him extremely well.
Gino’s Lament is the softest start of any of the songs so far. It begins with a solitary piano – but that only lasts a few seconds. The guitar kicks in almost immediately, and it sounds like it could’ve been lifted from a Spaghetti Western soundtrack – or perhaps something from Quentin Tarantino’s career (himself obviously heavily inspired by the work of Morricone and co). The tapestry of sound Taylor builds feels a bit like both Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds and Echo & The Bunnymen. It’s quite a piece. Instrumentally, it’s so strong that we almost expected it to remain without vocals. But when they do come in, the music drops tastefully back – and again, that balance is working wonders. It all works exceptionally well together and closes out the album perfectly.
Except it doesn’t! If you purchase it on Bandcamp, you are treated to a bonus track. A cover of the classic song “Undone In Sorrow” by bluegrass musician and cult-hero Ola Belle Reed. Originally recorded in 1976, it has been covered by numerous musicians over the years, and the original is a prime example of her traditional Appalachian folk style. The version here is far from traditional but is just as charming as the spirit of the original remains – albeit hidden under a layer of delicious scuzz and fuzz.
Written by Kinda Grizzly
