Throughout their recent collaborative works with Full of Hell and Thou, Portland noise conjurers The Body have released their seventh studio album I Have Fought Against It, But I Can’t Any Longer on Thrill Jockey, leaving listeners shaken with content dejection. The experimental duo, Lee Buford and Chip King, have been testing the definition of ‘heavy’ since the early 2000s but this body of work has finally shattered the preconception.
With the album title inspired by Virginia Wolfe’s suicide note, the theme of agony and suffering is upheld by the painful moans of violins atop the brooding foundation in ‘The Last Form of Loving’. Shortly following, the dark wave served up by ‘Partly Alive’ is insight into the edge of insanity as the droning synths float through the rolling drums. The increase in weight and intensity throughout and the trade-off between the howls and shouts makes this track an other-worldly stand-out on the album. Other favorites include the previously released single ‘Nothing Stirs’, ‘Off Script’ and ‘The Urn’. ‘Off Script’ in particular introduces a distorted 808-sounding drum beat that may just have you swaying amongst glassy bloodshot eyes. The spotlight on the gurgling vocal sermon on the last half on the track makes for a mind-blowing experience.
There are parts of the album that don’t leave as big of a mark as the aforementioned – ‘The West Has Failed’ being an example. However, this particular track is not at fault since it’s more so that it’s surrounded by such over-achievers. King’s signature hollers of desperation has always been best in small doses which is why the increased assortment of vocal samples is one of the pivotal aspects of this album that pushes this release to the top.
I Have Fought Against It, But I Can’t Any Longer is an overall heart-breaking representation of a broken stream of consciousness birthed in despair and tragedy. The Body has always portrayed disorder and cognitive dissonance in a thought-provoking way but this is their darkest and most accurate portrayal yet.
9.0/10.0
EBONIE BUTLER