Oaklander noise merchants Cheree come out guns blazing on their debut EP, Factory. Replete with face-melting guitar lines, sinisterly impassioned vocals, and industrial sounds held together with mechanistic programmed drums, the four-piece deal with visceral anti-capitalist sentiments, shoved down the listener's throat with the kind of raw intensity that could galvanise the most placated individual into action.
Composed of 6 tracks, Factory may be one-note, but the group operate around that note with creative breaks, dynamic counterplay, and never take their foot off the pedal as they swerve around their twisted mutations. For example, the opening track, "A Choice", pits a textured drum machine against lead singer's Vannesa's wails, which sounds as much histrionic possessions as they do cries for help, while bigger-than-life-guitars fill out the stereo with a beautiful distorted clarity. The slick strut of "Ruminate'' carries the EP's more vocally melodic takes, before "Murmur" features some unique and incendiary guitar work. This sense of creativity is perhaps best encapsulated in "Churn Down", a blistering cut with ominous samples, harsh guitars, and mismatched rhythms. Meanwhile, at almost six minutes, “Consumption” slows things down before speeding up and slowing down again, but is no less savage, and the closing track “Shadow’s Extent” gets grittier than any track preceding it, utilising simplistic metal riffs to grand effect.
More than anything, Factory reveals Cheree to be a noise rock band with an emotional core. Their sonic assaults are not undirected, nor are they throwaway. In fact, in the darkness, one can hear the burning desire and zeal driving their creations. At times, it can feel as though the group are self-therapizing, extracting the uncomfortable emotions that come from living in late-stage-capitalism into a highly concentrated, highly potent brew.
★★★★