Supergroups are often far less than the sum of their parts, but it would be a mistake to write off boygenius’ debut full-length as a whimsical side project for the trio’s illustrious members. “the record” contains some of the most brutal technical death metal and blackened crust tracks this side of Scandinavia.
Opening track “Without You Without Them” provides a quick, haunting prelude before the album hurtles into the crushing brutality of “$20.” Drummer Phoebe Bridgers’ (Goregrifters, Decrapitated) frantic, chaotic rhythms lay the jagged foundation that allow her fellow musicians to discover new depths of sonic bile. Bridgers unleashes double-kick blast beats so tight, you’d be forgiven for thinking she has four legs. The drumming in “Emily I’m Sorry” simulates gunfire and artillery perhaps a little too well— I was so scared while listening in my car that I accidentally drove into a froyo shop and hit three people and destroyed two frozen yogurt machines.
If guitarist Lucy Dacus’ (Botched Vasectomy, Mausoleum Hemsworth) dizzying sweep picking doesn’t leave your shoes covered in vomit, her revolting 8-string guitar tone will. The grinding, clanging chugs carry “Cool About It” to its epic, dissonant conclusion. Eat your fucking heart out, Meshuggah. Normally I’d complain about a 6-minute guitar solo like in “Anti-Curse,” but Lucy’s fretboard gymnastics never lull for a second.
Vocalist Julien Baker (30,000 Megatons of Shit, Casketweaver) summons sounds out of her voice that few humans have ever produced. Vicious pig squeals, guttural growls, and ghoulish black metal shrieks all make the record a horrifying, hypnotic experience. Her screams on “Satanist” make Behemoth’s “The Satanist” sound like Gordon Lightfoot. boygenius’ lyrics traffic in blasphemy in ways that would make Anton LeVey blush.
boygenius have just laid waste to the ideas of what a metal supergroup can be. Bloodbath, Dead Cross, and The Haunted all better take notes, lest they be left in the trail of brain chunks and spinal fluid left behind by “the record.”
Score: 5 out of 5 botched vasectomies
Many fans will argue that the rawness of this record puts it at the top of the list, while more discerning fans will tell you that it sounds terrible and the songs are underwhelming. Even the kid on the cover appears to be wondering where the band’s intensity went. I am well aware that this album is sacred to a lot of readers, but before you come at me in the comments section, please note that Ian MacKaye and Guy Picciotto have both admitted that it is not a good record. They should know, too, since they made the damn thing themselves, sans producer. Much of the experimentation on “Steady Diet of Nothing” was executed with greater success on their future releases, so let’s just move on.
Somehow “Red Medicine” is Fugazi’s most commercially successful album, which demonstrates how meaningless such a signifier can be. While some of the band’s best work is featured in this collection, the classics are often overshadowed or otherwise interrupted by lengthy and disjointed instrumentals. The resulting slog is not worth the highlights offered here.
“13 Songs” is actually a compilation of the band’s first two EPs and because of this we can’t in good conscience include it in the official rankings. We got a cryptic postcard from Ian himself saying “don’t you dare include this in your childish rankings.” As a standalone album, “13 Songs” is a near perfect collection. Pretty impressive considering that Guy wasn’t even really playing guitar in the band yet. Regardless, when compared with the entire discography, this record is a bit stale, no matter how fucking great “Waiting Room” is.
Ian decided to let Guy start playing guitar on this album. It was a failed attempt to curb his disruptive stage antics. Sonically, however, the results were mostly successful. The band enlisted not one, but two producers for this one. Unfortunately, neither of them could produce a lozenge for Guy. To make matters worse, the angular guitars on this one would later be cited to have heavily influenced insufferable bands like Franz Ferdinand and the Rapture. For this unforgivable reason alone, we have no choice but to rank this one a bit lower.
On “End Hits”, Fugazi’s penchant for ambience starts to fully coalesce with their penchant for absolutely tearing shit up. Hell, even bassist Joe Lally decided to sing his contributions at an audible volume for this one! Still, Ian makes us sit through four minutes of the barely listenable “Pink Frosty” before getting to Guy’s fiery closer, “F/D”
This album is so streamlined and crisp that if you told me it was released this year, I might believe you. Fresh out of the creative slump that birthed “Steady Diet of Nothing”, “In on the Kill Taker” finds the band playing at peak precision. It also finds Guy finally shaking his four-year cold to deliver some of the finest vocals of his entire career. All involved were ready to obliterate the preceding album with an absolute shit-kicker of a record.
Anybody who tells you that they don’t like “The Argument” is likely the same type of person who will look you dead in the eyes and say the Beatles weren’t a good band; both opinions are incorrect and only uttered to manufacture a false sense of hip contrarianism. Every single moment on this album is perfect. Any aspect of Fugazi’s earlier work that sounded overwrought or unfinished is finely tuned here like a Master’s thesis attempting to save a rocky final semester. Fugazi ultimately decided to drop out after this, and why the fuck not?
This should honestly rank higher for being so bat-shit crazy, but it’s mostly a bore. Yes there are some classics, but that’s what Greatest Hits compilations are for. “Get Behind Me Satan” marks the proverbial beginning of the end for the White Stripes, where the playful Willy Wonka persona of Jack White started to become his actual personality. His head was so engorged by past praise he had to wear a goofy-ass top hat to keep it contained. This album was released at a time in which the Stripes could do no wrong. Jack challenged this notion by putting, like, five songs on the record where the main instrument is a goddamn marimba.
The title of this album is a reference to the 1920s minimalist art movement of the same name, and the contents of this offering are about as bland as that sounds. Jack and Meg divorced shortly before this album was recorded, which was such a traumatic experience for Jack that he legitimately believed they were brother and sister for years after the event. We’ll have to forgive them for this record being so unremarkable due to the tumultuous time in which it was born.
“Icky Thump” is the final studio album the band ever produced. Seemingly as an apology for all that marimba shit on “Get Behind Me Satan,” this record finds the White Stripes returning to their glory days of loud guitar, boom bap drums, and zany as fuck vocals. This had the potential to be a perfect collection of Stripes songs, but Jack found a way to sneak bagpipes in on not one, but TWO tracks.
While ranked a bit lower due to a general lack of cohesion and weaker songwriting, this eponymous album served as an incredible timepiece and preview of what was to come. Frenetically kicking off with “Jimmy the Exploder,” the lyrics almost seem to taunt the listener asking “do you want to explode?” This collection dutifully answers the question, “are the White Stripes punk?” with a resounding, “I guess.”
Duuuun, da dun dun da duuuuuun, duuuuuun. You sang it didn’t you? Yeah, the whole world did and stadiums across the globe continue to do so to this day. Did you know Jack White gets so much in royalties from “Seven Nation Army” that he probably never has to work again? That’s five sub-par solo albums no one needed to pretend to like by my count. Not only does “Elephant” include this massively successful lead single, there are other songs too! Thirteen of them to be exact, and they mostly all fucking rule.
This is the album that likely made your dad shit his pants while loudly proclaiming that rock and roll was “BACK, BABY!” That reaction was entirely warranted. “White Blood Cells” found the band in peak songwriting form, while also inspiring a legion of fellow noisy guitar bands to flourish. Lead single and door-buster “Fell In Love With A Girl” provoked poignant questions from listeners such as “are my speakers blown?” and “is he singing in English?” Many music critics point to the release of “White Blood Cells” as the dawn of the Garage Rock Revival, but the truth is that Jack and Meg recorded this one in a professional studio, as Jack needed a place to store his Vespa during the sessions.