We won't hide the fact that when Mat McNerney announced he was embarking on a new post-punk project, our interest was piqued: what could the Hexvessel singer possibly offer that would be different enough from Grave Pleasures, his other band, to justify the birth of this new entity? With its name, Scorpion Milk is strangely reminiscent of Grave Pleasures' former identity, Beastmilk... so it is with curiosity and a certain excitement that we dive into Slime of the Times.
There's something else we won't hide from you: regardless of genre or label, Mat McNerney can sing whatever he wants, we'll be won over by his unique tone. As for the legitimacy of Scorpion Milk compared to Grave Pleasures, all our doubts are quickly dispelled: the approach here is much more direct, more intense, more in-your-face... although we recognize the same apocalyptic backdrop. Here, the end is near and urgency takes precedence over the bittersweet nostalgia imbued with the Cold War and 1980s cold wave that characterized the beautiful album Plagueboys. Although accompanied by Tor Sjödén (Viagra Boys) on drums and Nate Newton (Converge, Cave In) on bass, McNerney is the sole composer here and therefore has complete freedom to give free rein to his anxieties, rage, and twilight poetry.
It is surprising to see how All the Fear (That Money Can Buy) (featuring Killing Joke drummer Big Paul Ferguson) contains traces of its author's black metal DNA, whether in the sinister guitar that opens the album or the screams he lets out, paradoxically going further than Hexvessel, who more openly embraces the artist's extreme influences (he was also the voice of Dødheimsgard). McNerney's vision of post-punk is steeped in gothic metal, and while he knows his classics, he also brings a refreshing modernity and freedom to them: Scorpion Milk pays homage to the masters, and there is clearly some Killing Joke (again!) in the riffs of The Will to Live. But above all, with its multitude of influences and McNerney's creativity, Scorpion Milk offers a strong personality and a deeply personal and unique vision.
It is with She-Wolf of London that the album really takes off, moving away from catchy formulas to trap us in its mists. We shiver with pleasure as we rediscover the singer's ominous and afflicted narrative tone, his voice seeming to contain all the mysteries hidden by darkness. However, although his mood seems to lend itself to it, there's no question of doom here: the world is falling apart, but Scorpion Milk gives us something to dance to and even have a little fun with. With its catchy rhythm and atmosphere reminiscent of an old fantasy film, which Will Gould of Creeper helps to create, Scorpion Milk evokes the sticky decay suggested by the album title... when Scorpion Milk relaxes, it's to play with grotesque and theatrical horror imagery or to make us celebrate the apocalypse.
Slime of the Times alternates between ironic lightheartedness and a heaviness that flirts with industrial (Wall to Wall and the title track have echoes of Ministry fully embracing its goth roots), McNerney pens some irresistible new lyrics laden with melancholy and menace as only he knows how (All Snakes No Ladders) and blends a raw, spontaneous approach with his trademark poetic writing. His spectral conclusion, Children Are Dust, leaves the listener haunted by memories of a world that is falling apart, certainly, but also with the satisfaction of having a new soundtrack for this apocalypse. More aggressive and stripped down than Grave Pleasures, Scorpion Milk appears to us as both its extension and its antidote. The scorpion's venom is not lacking in sting.
