Amps for Christ - Pure Hammond
"My friend just put out a 7" by one of the guys from Man is the Bastard, it's called Amps For Christ. But don't freak out, I'm pretty sure it's not Christian." - K. Mack, 1997.
And how could it be? Man Is the Bastard were such a pure, obliterating force. Their records marked the bleak, singular endpoint on a path of metal, industrial, and hardcore musics, this far edge of precise, destructive sound. I don't think there's another band that has such a profound completeness. The records look like they sound, the vocals feel identical to what the lyrics mean, even the blunt clarity of speaking the band name feels the same as hearing one of their songs. A grueling bassline usually framed their songs, a decisive arrangement of notes, a rhythmic unevenness matched by the drums. The five syllables of MAN-IS-THE-BAS-TARD lurched in the exact same way. There is no room for faith or fealty in this project.
When I was eighteen I heard the words "ETERNAL WAR AGAINST THE DICKS IS ALL WE CAN RESPECT" at the end of their song "Remember Thy Creator." Written out, it seems kind of triumphant and defiant. But when you heard it screamed, each word crisp and venomous, it betrays the loneliness of this position. It's heartbreaking. It's also one of the more alienating MITB songs, absent bass and drums, leaving only the gurgling, vibrating electronic sounds that normally lurk between notes on their other records. Sustained notes on an organ, somewhere between a horror movie soundtrack and a church service, loom over the whole thing. The composition is credited to Henry Barnes (or as the liner notes read, "BARNES"), one of the core members of Man Is the Bastard, alongside Eric Wood. In a 2008 interview, Wood recalled how he met Barnes: "Around town, he was known for being this weird guy who built bikes out of other bikes. That was his thing: making new things from neglected other things." Barnes was the one who started Amps For Christ.
The name seemed suspect to me, but I was excited to hear this 7", and the listed instrumentation - "strings" and "electronics" seemed like a natural trajectory out of his work in MITB. It was not. Notes tumbled out of guitars with an almost carefree, front-porch/campfire feeling. Other songs buzzed warmly like an electric sitar. But at the center was "Pure Hammond," an entirely electronic composition, drones and frequencies unlike the rest of the record, unlike the rest of the records in the world.
"Pure Hammond" is a devotional song. It's weighty, grounded by a sequence of low organ chords that make my ribcage tremble. A pair of single-note melodies skate atop these chords, refusing to match each other but somehow never jarring. One is slightly more assertive, it reminds me of a child: unable to sit still, full of questions, full of faith in the answers it's given. The other voice moves more slowly, is more used to the ritual. I'm always awed by its restraint, especially halfway through the song when the former grows more insistent, jumping octaves and pleading. There is a moment where it all peaks, the notes grow so high and needy I can feel myself reaching out to assure them. The moment stretches, breathless and pained, when a third voice lasers through the whole song, a definitive, wise blast of sound. It can feel overpowering, but it can also feel fortifying. I generally don't listen to music at high volumes, but in this moment of truth I almost always push it as loud as I can bear. I want it all.
I've never tried to figure out what Henry Barnes's relationship is to Christianity. The 7" with "Pure Hammond" comes with an insert, one side of which is at the top of this text, the other at the bottom. It's the right amount of opaque, I think, and there's something very sweet about the way it loops back again to making a song, a record. And I like reading "Love >> Hate." "ETERNAL WAR" is a valid path, I think, and maybe a necessary one. But I appreciate the acknowledgement of some who don't bow as low, too, and for sure the wordless truth of "Pure Hammond."
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