I'm listening to a record I recently found called Forty Acre Fugue by a band called Gneissmaker. It's not on YouTube; the only thing of theirs that is is a four-years-older split single that sucks shit. They improved markedly between then and the full-length, though. It's a remarkably singular sound, somewhere between Jazz, Thrash, Math Rock, and Noise Rock. Imagine something like a combination of Helmet, Coroner, Watchtower, Don Caballero, Dazzling Killmen, and Hammerhead - the band were from Minneapolis but sound a little too Metal for AmRep - a shame, because they could have used wider exposure. This being 1994, they also seemed to pioneer the idea of sentence-long nonsensical song titles ('You May Not Be Able To Take The Predator Out Of Your Pet, But You Should Never Allow Your Pet To Take The Blood Out Of You' and others) later used by Math Rock bands like Don Cab and Oxes, which was picked up by a few Metalcore bands and then became a staple of scene kid mallcore like Panic! At the Disco. Would be interested to learn of the true origin of this trope ngl.
Since I can't post a song off of it, I'll post this one instead, which is very good as well. Been into this album a lot lately, with this song being particularly expressive. I have to say this captures better than nearly anything else seething hopelessness and corrosive fatigue, a chimera of sadness and anger that rattles inside hollow bones and stays for days. This song reminds me of my sophomore year of college, marching under fluorescent lights from nowhere to nowhere, drifting through dead, snow-covered streets with a dim recognition of lit windows set against the backdrop of chasmic emptiness. A period during which I was decisively severed from ordinary life with no hope of return and in which a vague presentiment of universal hatred made a propitious return, eventually.