The recent 20th anniversary of Kurt Cobain‘s death brought to mind a number of long forgotten things, not least of which was the bizarre theories surrounding its nature.
Also buried in the haze of two decades was just how close a living Cobain might have come to seeing his career eclipsed by his spouse, as the errant Courtney Love perceptively used the hyper-reality surrounding their marriage and motherhood as a muse, stepping to them with fists balled and raised. Released just four days after her husband’s (probable) suicide, Hole‘s irascible sophomore record ‘Live Through This‘ was the sound of a woman taking the reigns of her career with a flint-eyed determination.
Subsequently hailed as a classic and easily Love’s finest musical contribution to her prosaic back story, ‘Live Through This’ lessened the aggression of Hole’s début ‘Pretty On The Inside‘ and tapped into multiple veins of angst and post-grunge nihilism, kicking against the pricks with rapier like precision.
White Lung vocalist Mish Way has made no secret of her admiration for Love; a performer who, despite her obvious character flaws, has continued to be uncompromisingly successful, an alternative role model who flies in the face of the planet’s widespread post millennial misogyny.
White Lung – the name refers to a condition suffered by bakers who ingest too much flour – are a three piece from Vancouver, (although Way has recently moved to Los Angeles) who trade in the hardcore punk values of a different generation. The vox supplements her time in the band as a writer across various platforms, and espouses her views in pieces entitled I Fuck, Therefore I Am: Women, Desire and Self Objectification and The So-called Whore In The COC Shirt.
Your perceptions are spot on: Cheryl Cole this is not.
White Lung’s last album ‘Sorry‘ attracted many critical plaudits, but similar to Love’s decision to bridge the gap between knee-scraping thrash and the Demonic mainstream, ‘Deep Fantasy‘ keeps the radical brains of the band’s past but uses a little less brawn. On opener ‘Drown With The Monster‘, Way rides in on a tidal wave of feedback and guitars with a sound like molten lead, the song itself surveying drug addiction whilst hammering the listener into submission. Those familiar will be unsurprised that the pace hardly slows from that white knuckle jump off, but the trio avoid falling into the trap of using speed as a proxy for ideas. There is a flirtation with something that sounds vaguely radio friendly (if your wireless plays stuff like Savages, Japanese Voyeurs and L7 that is) as ‘Down It Goes‘ confirms their ability to add melody to the power and noise, but mostly ‘Deep Fantasy’ is an exercise in controlled aggression.
Their coruscating undertow is far too strong to be denied. On songs like ‘Sycophant‘, ‘Wrong Star‘ and ‘Lucky One‘ White Lung appear to be somewhere between desolation and mania, revelling in their uncomplicated buzz, like Blondie might sound if they were still 20 now and had been playing people’s basements. The circle is constantly squared by intellect, Way never knowingly shying away from personal politics or any other unconsciously difficult topics – ‘Snake Jaw‘ was written about body dysmorphia – whilst her, drummer Anne-Marie Vassilou and guitarist Kenneth William combine to make ‘Deep Pleasure’ highly listenable scuzz.
As part of the press work that accompanies the album’s release, the band put together a Spotify playlist of the music which had supposedly inspired it. Nearly all of the inclusions were surprising – ABBA rubbing shoulders with protean black metallers Venom – but probably the most eyebrow raising was the omission of Violet, or Doll Parts, or Miss World. Perhaps the homage was dismissed as too obvious.
On the evidence of this collection of songs, being in anyone’s shadow is something White Lung may not have to worry about for too much longer.
