New York sound artist, David Brenner, writes music to demoralise the listener. Gridfailure’s aim is to transport you into the fetid jaws of a post-apocalyptic world where humanity has reverted to animal levels of morality. Scream Blast Repeat praised 2020’s Sixth Mass-extinction Skulduggery II, but we also issued a warning: ‘When we say avoid this record, we do so for your own health and not because it is lacking in artistic merit.’ Part III is now here, and it’s longer in length and collaborations, the most notable being Steve Austin from Today is the Day. Can you immerse yourself in a reprehensible future where fear dominates and survival is the height of human achievement?
As with any longform record, it’s easier to enjoy Sixth Mass-extinction Skulduggery III if you identify a cut-off point between side A and side B. One hour and twenty-one minutes of relentless nerve-shattering fear is a difficult undertaking in one go. The rotary blade of a chopper introduces the setting for a hidden sanctuary in ‘Subdividing the Survivors’, where mildew and rain seep through the citadel. Who’s outside waiting to pounce on these humans in hiding? A dissonant piano fights with the background noise of screaming people caught up in a natural disaster as the keyboard atmospherics ghost through the mix. Sporadic machine gun fire and distant screams merge with furious shouting in ‘Hybrid Warfare in Defense of One’s Habitat’. The foundations are perfect for Mac Gollehon’s discordant trumpet. Brenner uses this as the first opportunity to add an industrial kick-snare combination with subtle keyboards glowing in the background. The effect is vertiginous but in a nightmarish way. Imagine hallucinating while walking on the jib of a crane overlooking the city below.
The key to understanding Gridfailure is recognising that they use the aggression of metal and hardcore but none of the dynamics. There are no solid drum beats or muscular guitars. Even the shouting comes filtered through many reverb effects with extra distortion. An eerie darkness anchored in the anxiety of the unknown is the outcome, and it’s fair to say this is a human condition of our secular age. And, of course, if you want to create unease, why not build your sound design around a throbbing screech of rats descending on the city’s underground subways? ‘Anthropophagiae Nationis’ does just that and dares to add a slow breakbeat and multi-echo vocal phrasings. Forced together, these sound like the murderous Sawyer family from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre holding a funeral for grandpa.
Avant-garde artist, Leila Abdul-Rauf, adds a layer of aching beauty to ‘Drunk on the Blood of My Neighbor’. Here, the spasmodic trumpets blend with the circling synths like rain and wind. Only one thing becomes tedious in this experiment: the ubiquitous blur of the shouting voice that Brenner dims with excess distortion and muffled volume levels. By contrast, we could be in Trent Reznor’s Year Zero concept when we reach ‘Vestiges’. Listen how the open hi-hat sizzles after the snare beat as the threat of a burning furnace comes ever closer. Much of this music would be ideal for a dystopian film where humans are scavengers in a devastated world of zero-sum morality. Even the piano appears broken in ‘Ration Distribution/Processed for Storage’ as the soaring heat and hostile fuzz warn you to stay away. But this is a major problem for anyone creating art: do you want the listener to retreat and obey their instinct to avoid danger? If so, they might step away from it rather than embrace it.
Side B is where the unknown gives way to the predictable. You’d call it a success if the aim is to recreate the last few minutes of the Titanic sinking to the bottom of the ocean. The post-rock textures of ‘This Was More Than Just Killing… It Was Art’ begin like a new inclusion on the 28 Years Later soundtrack until the foaming agony takes over. Here, a doomsayer’s singing voice saunters like the mist at a derelict harbour. On second listen, there are more layers than a nuclear bunker. Likewise, you’re trapped in the sewers for most of the action in ‘Maria’ with no way of calling for help. One assumes the neighbours would call the police if they heard Brenner creating this type of ambient horror in his studio. Take ‘Necrotizing Fasciitis’ as an example. Riding out of Hiroshima on the last bicycle might’ve produced this kind of gut feeling that something bad is on the horizon.
Though too long, this record deserves your attention. A title-track exceeding fourteen minutes ought to fill you with dread. Of course, this shouldn’t be a problem as Gridfailure’s raison d’être is to produce dread, but it’s the wrong kind, closer to the dread of tedium. Yet ‘Sixth Mass-Extinction Skulduggery III: Acquiring A Taste’ comes to life like a reanimated corpse. Jazz drums and flame-thrower effects stalk the speakers as if waiting to ambush the next sentient being who creeps through the door. Fans of Recoil’s Liquid album from 2000 will know the setting, only this effort expands through improvisation rather than meticulous planning. You might even detect an oboe weaving its way through the bottleneck of sound, but you can’t be sure.
Admittedly, the title of closing affair, ‘Transmissions Cease’, is exactly what you want to happen at the final stage of the listening experience. But it’s not every day you encounter a record that retools Stravinsky with ambient field recordings, mono drums, and lingering expressions of wordless agony elongated into shapeless melodies. Add in the trumpets and Brenner’s misty pedal loops, and you have an audio panic worthy of a film score. Whether you can stomach it more than once is another question.
Verdict
Release Date: 03/10/2025
Record Label: Nefarious Industries
Standout track: Hybrid Warfare in Defense of One’s Habitat; Drunk on the Blood of My Neighbor; Sixth Mass-Extinction Skulduggery III: Acquiring A Taste
Suggested Further Listening: Leila Abdul-Rauf – Calls from a Seething Edge (2024), Recoil – Liquid (2000), Sly & The Family Drone – Moon is Doom Backwards (2024)