You could tell that something was brewing with Doodseskader, that their next album was going to be ‘something’. The Belgian duo didn’t come out of nowhere: their previous works, Year One and Year Two, were already superb mutant monsters, both bewildering and ferocious. But something was brewing, as we could see from the singles released, the stunning artwork by Maarten Colman, and even on stage during particularly intense and spirited live performances. The Change is Me abandons the numbering of its two predecessors, as if to break free a little further and emphasise that Doodseskader is now sailing in total independence, on its own label. This freedom has always been part of the project, which couldn’t care less about labels (industrial, grunge, rap, sludge, whatever) and does things with undeniable sincerity.
And then Glass Mask kicks off; the lyrics are sharp but land with merciless heaviness, building up to a chorus that smacks of 90s alternative rock. “It feels good to be stuck in the dark”: Doodseskader contemplates the darkness, unravels his torments and, with a raw cry, seems to dissect themselves live in front of us. It’s the first track and it’s already wild and deeply moving.
The Change is Me is both the most accomplished album from what one hesitates to call a formula – as that would imply Doodseskader follows a set of rules – and the most accessible album crafted by Tim de Gieter and Sigfried Burroughs. Ideas burst forth like screams, alternating between crushing melancholy (Please Just Make It Stop and its hypnotic industrial trap) and rebellion (Celebrity Culture Simp Farm), menace (the murderous No Laughter in Me, or the futuristic It Keeps On Stinging, both danceable and devastating) or introspection, delivered with sincerity and without complacency. The contrasts jump out at us like jump scares in a horror film: be warned, you don’t mess with this sort of thing without taking a few risks! Anyway, as they shout at us, WE’RE FUUUUUUCKED.
Yet, amidst all this rage, this storm of torment, Doodseskader also seems to be evolving, growing, transforming right before our eyes. Halfway through the album, Weaponizing My Failures perhaps captures the very essence of it: yes, we’re shattered, we're broken, we're a mess. That’s just how it is. There are things that can’t be hidden, can’t be fixed. You have to learn to live with them, accept them, and, with this realisation, Doodseskader also exudes something comforting and unifying: this music, so intimate, so honest, is also for every person who’s a bit of a mess, a bit broken. Which is to say, everyone. This approach is a lifesaver at a time when everyone seems obsessed with the artificial and ridiculous image of perfection portrayed on social media...
This is where Doodseskader really shine with The Change is Me. Despite the deeply personal nature of an album that feels like a form of self-exorcism, and despite the ever-changing nature of their evolving sound, the duo pull off the magic of creating a universal work that could just as easily serve as a modern anthem. A wild, uninhibited, vital, visceral, truly cathartic affair – a patchwork album which, like Frankenstein’s creature, is born of suffering and forges its identity therein, and whose appearance might throw off balance those unable to see beyond the surface. It’s going to hurt, but you’ll feel better afterwards. What a beautiful monster!
