Here’s a hypothetical question for you- how many bass strings would you get through a month if you were Masimo Pupillo, the bassist in Italian trio Zu?
A lot, would be your answer, had you been listening to Carboniferous recently. I haven’t heard a bass sound as dense as the unearthly throb which hails the start of “Ostia”, the opening track of the jazz metaller’s latest opus, in a very long time. It’s an all-consuming deathly hum, menacingly clear and crisp yet absolutely huge sounding. Think Jesus Lizard, think Shellac, think hard house, think dub, think whatever you like, just think big.
Thankfully for the listener, there’s more than that (admittedly wondrous) bass sound going for Zu. The Italian trio are on their 14th album, but it seems that where last album Igneo started their slow acceptance into a larger audience, Carboniferous will be the one that cements it. Not because it’s released on avant metal guru and former Faith No More-er Mike Patton’s Ipecac label, nor because it features Patton on vocals, and probably not even because Melvins head honcho King Buzzo lends some guitar riffery to the churning “Cthonian”, but most likely because it’s about as friendly as Zu have yet been.
Don’t get me wrong, no band with a background in free jazz (google this if you think I’m talking about Miles Davis purloined off limewire) and who use a tenor saxophone in place of a guitar is ever going to hit big on the mainstream, but there’s something incredibly brutal and engaging about Zu’s sound. I caught them live twice before Christmas, and I have no doubt I will be shelling out once again when they come around in April, such is the ferocity of their live show. Jacapo Battaglia’s drumwork is frankly astounding – I’m told he’s able to simultaneously play in time and out of time – and it anchors the grunting grind of Luca Mai’s tenor saxophone, which spurts noise every bit as varied and angry as any guitar.
Zu - Zen, motherf***er
Exquisitely technical music can all too often be soulless and cold on record – look towards the manifold Dillinger Escape Plan copyists, or ask yourself how many times you’ve honestly played Battles’ LP all the way through since you bought it. Zu might be able to make an album with avant jazz superstar Mats Gustafsson, but they can also churn out an album which flat out makes you want to jump around. From the techno pulse of “Ostia”, through to the droned out howling of “Orc”, this is an album that screams at you to get up and get out. “Carbon” is a noiserock staple with a lumbering riff attached, while on “Beata Viscera” spiralling saxophone blurts over dribbling electronics and that pounding, charging rhythm section. By the time Patton makes his entrance on the leering “Soulympics”, the adrenaline is coursing through your veins, tense as a board due to those seething, tamed rhythms.
It may seems a careless metaphor, but on Carboniferous, Zu sound like a caged band, somehow straining to keep themselves on the very perilous edge between rhythm and cacophony. Every bass line, every electronic murmur, every saxophone riff and every cymbal shimmer feels somehow condensed, laboured, forced out under some kind of horrendous pressure. Compared to Zu, every other band you’ve heard is loose. Whether they’re beating seven shades out of a riff on “Carbon” or lurching through a disturbingly tribal slowdance on “Obsidian”, the tempo, timing and attack of the band are otherwordly. Their blend of noiserock, jazz and metal might not be completely revolutionary, but pulling it off with such gusto and panache is, if not revolutionary, completely unprecedented. Carboniferous is proof that music can be experimental without being cerebral and bludgeoning without being blunt.
You can download the track “Carbon” for free from Zu’s last.fm page, but I’ve kindly linked to it here. Because I’m that nice.
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