Run, Killbot, Run

Robo-rockers Genghis Tron aim for clarity.

by A.D. Amorosi

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Published: Mar 18, 2008

Lyrics about devils and demons set to Meshuggah's dense grindcore and Autechre's amber ambience — that is Genghis Tron

Or perhaps was Genghis Tron.

Not that the Poughkeepsie-turned-Philadelphia trio has strayed so far from that hellish stricture on their new CD for their new label — the oddly melodic Board Up the House on Relapse. But Genghis Tron has made a slight right turn from the fiery robot death knell of past albums like Dead Mountain Mouth to find a more desperate, claustrophobic place (e.g.

MASTER CONTROL PROGRAMMERS: Genghis Tron's new CD relies less on "cut 'n' paste shock value" and more on crafting and shaping each tune. (CLICK IMAGE FOR LARGER VERSION)

"The future is gnashing its endless teeth/ As it lumbers towards our drunk king").

While shouting vocalist/lyricist Mookie Singerman and keyboardist/programmer Michael Sochynsky mind the map, guitarist Hamilton Jordan does most of the driving. Listen to the band's immediate past, their thick rattle-n-shred and Dante's Inferno-filled lyrical frenzy (to say nothing of Singerman's ragged holler) and you may find something a little off-putting and ferocious.

"Really?" asks Jordan. "I hardly think of us as an intimidating band. We certainly are not intimidating people, nor do we have intimidating, violent or offensive imagery. Nor is our music that aggressive compared to a lot of stuff out there, although I guess it's still pretty abrasive. Maybe people are intimidated by our towering awesomeness and insurmountable mountain of talent," he laughs.

The trio — then and now, without a drummer — formed in Poughkeepsie, N.Y., in 2004 when they were all in high school together. They had "absolutely zero reason to stay," so they packed up their musical influences — Hamilton the black/grindcore aficionado, Sochynsky the break-beat fan, Singerman the glitch enthusiast — and moved to West Philly.

At their start, Hamilton notes there was a "throw it all against the wall and see what sticks" mentality. "It was done very impulsively without a lot of second-guessing, which led to some great and not-so-great choices being committed to tape. Michael and I started the band and wanted to do so because we shared uncanny common tastes in music. Five years later, it doesn't seem that bizarre ... but at the time, I was 19 years old and had never met anyone who owned Autechre EP7, Cryptopsy None So Vile and most of the Halos in the NIN catalog."

On Board Up the House, they rely less on what Hamilton calls "cut 'n' paste shock value" and more on crafting and shaping each tune. Plus, they bought new gear. And gave the tracks time to gel. But the subject of emotional barrenness and enclosure — especially since Philadelphia is now their home — makes one wonder how literal their claustrophobic notions are (the three live together under one roof at 49th and Baltimore).

Singerman notes how his newest lyrics are more about hopelessness and uncertainty. "When we started to write the record, the three of us had graduated from school and I guess that caused me to take stock of the world we had stepped into. Between this and the talk of climate change, endless wars, depletion of natural resources, political/religious zealotry, it seemed a frightening time to be young." Singerman just can't see a progressive, healthy society ahead of him. "I don't want to sound cynical or pessimistic, but we're facing an uphill battle."

Hence lyrics like "I see no light ahead/ I choke on desperate breath," from "Relief."

No matter if they're being coy and clever or hard and hellish, their current lyrical obsession, above all else, is about being heard and singing as opposed to screaming like a cyborg in heat. That doesn't mean the title track and "Endless Teeth" aren't polyp-ripping and that the scuffed laments that Singerman attempts against beds of layered keyboards ("Recursion") and towering infernos of charred guitars always ring out in clarion fashion. But "Things Don't Look Good" and "I Won't Come Back Alive" show Singerman at his most clearly enunciated — the lord of diode-fueled death-robot metal at his most emotional. "I was very conscious about being completely unintelligible on our previous releases," says Singerman of making the change to clarity for Board Up the House. "Then I realized — what's the point in writing lyrics if no one can understand a word you're saying?"

(a_amorosi@citypaper.net)

Genghis Tron plays Fri., March 21, 8 p.m., $10, with Oneida, Coliseum and Pony Pants, Johnny Brenda's, 1201 N. Frankford Ave., 215-739-9684, johnnybrendas.com.

 

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