You have to develop a taste for tinned meat. Most folks take one look at the pinkish-grey slime and don’t even get around to sampling it. The funky saltiness and creamy texture turn off most folks without a refined palette. But quite a few people enjoy cracking open a tin, spreading the mix of mechanically-separated chicken, pork, and beef onto a cracker or piece of crusty bread, and tucking in without fear for their heart health or sodium intake. And of course, that always breeds curiosity in those who don’t think they’ll like tinned meats before they try them.
You could say the same about Tinned Meats, the band from Sheffield, and their second album, KILTER, available through the Boston-based I Heart Noise label. The album cover alone may shock some: Splatters of white, black, and red paint over a yellow background, creating a jarring visual forecasting the abrasive harmonies, rhythms that defy time or meter, and smart lyrical manifestos almost rapped over the music. Genres like post-punk, jazz, funk, and pop blend together into a slurry that caters to the curious, and after a few bites – er – listens, they’ll surely be hooked.
For anyone looking for a comparison, Tinned Meats gives off wafts of a better Geese. If you couldn’t get into Getting Killed even though every music critic gave it a rave review, but you want to understand why folks couldn’t stop talking about them, KILTER is a good listen. Tinned Meats bring a little more energy and overall musicality, keeping the sound original and beyond clear definition, but accessible for anyone daring enough to pop open the lid and take a taste.
As soon as that lid cracks, the first track “Square One” hits with a slap in the face of funk and distortion, which carries into Beatles-like harmonies on the chorus (“Beaten by the labyrinth of black and white/Every new direction facing a wall”). Crossing between the heavy verses laden with cymbal-rich drums and the dreamy choruses provides an introduction to Tinned Meats’ sound for the uninitiated: A true “square one”.
For those not used to the kind of music Tinned Meats provides, the polyrhythms and harmonies may sound otherworldly or detached from reality. “Shrink” provides images of that perception of a new state of being: “I reach for my family, they shrink into the carpet/It grows to a forest, an entire world in my fingerprint”. These kinds of words are unlike much of what makes up popular music, and yet they strike something deeper, toeing the line between consciousness and derealization.
“Chorea” – a track named after a hyperkinetic movement disorder with involuntary and rapid muscle movements – is aptly titled, as it will cause sudden bursts of wanting to dance with reckless abandon. The song builds from slower music-box style verses to bursts of light-speed instrumentals and bridges, showcasing the band’s enjoyment in playing with tempo to channel emotion. For anyone who can’t find the will to let their body fall to whimsy, the band commands it: “I can’t be cleansed, you’ll have to stop my pulse/Or march behind me, let your body convulse/All of our motions are pure/Flail with us till you can stand no more”.
On “Grounded”, dreamy synths accompany lyrics of accepting reality: “In that leap I learned anew/I’m falling out of love with breaking through/The thrill of the dive, left in the dust/This must be a sign”. Where “Grounded” speaks of someone becoming grounded both mentally and physically, “Mir” matches its theme at a slower pace, waxing poetic about the fallen Russian satellite with a synth-heavy background. It speaks to Mir during its life, through which the Soviet Union fell, and the Russian Federation took its place, all before it was brought crashing back to Earth: “Building a new world doesn’t come cheap/Where you were born has gone, but please don’t weep”.
The band dips into the occult on “So Below”, dredging up esoteric swells of sound that bubble up from the ground and drip down from the sky, evoking the text of the Emerald Tablet and the mysticism associated with it. Then, returning to reality, “Piece of Mind” draws a vivid picture of getting a hole through the head, although the owner of that hole seems content with their predicament, invoking wordplay between the song’s title and “peace of mind”: “Half a teacup spilling out/Formed a deep red puddle/Remove the concern from your face/To me it is no trouble”.
Some tracks comment on the liminality of everyday spaces. Tinned Meats seems to refer to their namesake on “Caught In The Wild”, comparing the grocery store to the thick brush where shoppers go to hunt: “Separated mechanically like mother and child/Scavenging the back alley/We’re caught in the wild”. Then on “Waiting Room”, the band compares sitting in traffic and in the hospital to floating in an altered state: “Sit and wait in the waiting room/Stand in line in an endless queue/Nothing real to cling onto”.
“More Weight” takes on a stripped-down twelve-tone blues approach, with echoing acoustic guitars and discordant vocal harmonies channeling increasing pressure: “Inside-out, my bones groaning/There’s no use in intervening/I never spoke, I was hoping/A precious stone would come out gleaming”. Then there is the (sort-of) title track, “Off Kilter”, where the pressure causes everything to crack, and the fear, paranoia, and loathing start to leak: “I’m afraid in the streets, magnetic spies are disguised/Every glance cuts deep/I’ve never seen you smile”.
“Walls” ends the album with a tale of manic indecision, the irony of refusing to give up on life even though life’s choices may have prevented true living. Painting and repainting walls with different shades of white doesn’t make for much of an existence, but to some, that doesn’t matter: The task and pride in the work provide purpose for existing. It is sort of like a metaphor for making art: You can place notes and words and rhythms in all sorts of arrangements, and they may get you nowhere, or they may finally guarantee a payday to free you from your laborious cycle. But what then? If painting the walls white is what you’ve known for so long, what comes next?
What comes next for Tinned Meats, hopefully, is recognition for the walls they’ve painted, or rather, the fine meal they’ve made with their music. While some may have to take their time getting into it, once they do, they’ll come to appreciate the excellent flavors, the mouthfeel, and the filling sensation throughout their entire body. And unlike real tinned meats – which often increase fat, raise the blood pressure, and coat the heart in a thick layer of grease – the band Tinned Meats and the album KILTER will get the blood pumping and make the heart strong.
Tinned Meats are Jack Howorth, Lennon Wild, and Jon Willmer, with help from Tom Kerr and Elliot Robinson. Take a listen to KILTER below.
Written by Will Sisskind
