The Return of the Gruesome Twosome

Jucifer, image via Wiki Commons

The early 90s crowd was tough to please. A decade that was arguably the pinnacle of American hardcore (post, power-violence, and punk crossovers included) with bands like Infest, Earth Crisis, and Converge leading the front, called for at least 4-5 bodies to command attention. Five meant a full sound. Three-pieces like Shellac, Steel Pole Bathtub, and Melt Banana were considered stripped-down. So when twosomes Jucifer and Iron Lung formed beside their crowded contemporaries no one knew what to think.

“Early-late 90s it was weird. Even up to 2002, 2003 when we supported the Melvins and High on Fire on national tours, people were pretty shocked by it. A two-person band that isn't doing garage, pop, or surf?” says Edgar Livengood, drummer of Jucifer.

The skepticism that came from agro listeners who dug allegedly core-shaking genres was ironic. Yes, a stark two is the whole band, but their wall of amps might just make you shit yourself. “Several people have fallen down from surprise when we started. One man and a bunch of women said they had orgasms,” claims Amber Valentine, guitarist of Jucifer. Groups might make you proudly strain to pick out their overlapping nuances, but sometimes the only essential is a fuzzy two-piece to make you climax, or lose your bowels.

“All you need is a beat, a riff, and words. Hell, sometimes you don't even need that much to make a good song. We took that basic recipe and twisted it until it sounded honest,” says Jensen Ward, drummer of Iron Lung. And isn’t that all we’re searching for? In an excessive age where anyone can fake anything, you can’t help but praise the simply genuine, especially when it’s well executed.

So let’s call the 90s a skeptical decade of foreplay—a warm-up for the inevitable coitus modern ears are finally wet and wanting. Today I’d hope we’re beyond the shock of two bodies making a big sound and women playing brutal music.

The plight of the two-piece may not be quite on par with ladies in metal/punk, but it’s still an unconventional lineup in an equally unconventional scene. When people tell Jensen “Man, you guys are heavy for a two-piece,” he responds, “We’re heavy for a nine-piece, motherfucker. We just do it with two.”

Now here we are in 2015 and the collective disregarded-until-proven-brutal mentality remains; which is fine because heavy veterans, Iron Lung, surely don’t give a shit and neither do today’s Miami drone couple Holly Hunt. “Fuck naysayers and fuck ill-informed opinions,” wrote Gavin Perry, guitarist of the South Florida duo. In 2012 the two released a well-received, lyricless, lumbering debut album, Year One, that only proved my ear-coitus metaphor true. Gavin and Betty Monteavaro, the pair’s drummer, appreciate their predecessors for founding the weighty twosome landscape, but realize the climate they’re coming into. Jon Kortland, Iron Lung guitarist, phrases it nicely:

“Since most ‘critics’ these days are 12-year-old wiki-speak ‘musicologists’ mistyping half truths into tablets or iPhones, I try to avoid that kind of nonsense. However, it is impossible to fully blind myself to the world of inexperienced blowhards attempting to cement a place in a punker-than-thou realm that will last all of five minutes on an evolutionary scale. I guess that's how I feel about most critics in this post post-modern world.”

Maybe we shouldn’t try to overcomplicate a purely heavy thing. Iron Lung has been called techno-grind, old-school-reach-around (however suggestive that sounds), and avant-crust. Some critics have said they’re "chasing that brass ring into the stratosphere and cashing cheques along the way.” Cheques, you say?

And while it all sounds wildly depressing, the good news today is people are willing and want to listen. There may be plenty of bullshit to sieve through, but rest assured, when two honest musicians charge a heavy atmosphere, it’s gonna be okay. Let’s just remember what we like and what we don’t. What doesn’t Jensen like?

“Smooth jazz. The term ‘staycation’. Hot liquids. Weak drumming. Bands that pigeon hole themselves out of the opportunity to be creative: ‘This is my demo era Die Kreuzen band, Sick People…’, shouldn't we just enjoy the DK demo for what it is and make some new music? Dog hair. Undiagnosable illnesses. Crutches. Overpriced, overhyped, reissues of mediocre nonsense. Fake ‘freaks’. Bar-punk. Carob chips. 90s revival. Touring in Europe. Pixelated artwork. Porn without Seka. Guitar Center. The bible (any version). Rose colored glasses. This list could keep going and going but that doesn't mean there aren't a lot of good things in the world to balance the scales with.”

You see that tinge of hope right there? That means a couple of us are looking up and this year oughta be damn decent.