They’re not wanting for aggression, but the Bristol duo of Gareth Turner (bass, noise) and Jesse Webb (drums, guitar), who collectively go by Big Naturals, have little to do with metal, and their heaviness of tone — one can see pictures of prominent Matamp logos in the foldout panels of their Greasy Trucker Records self-titled debut LP — seems almost happenstance when put against the rush of their noisy articulations, the focus more on the swirl and the churn than the thickness or pummel. Weird is the primary. Of course, they wind up plenty heavy anyway, but there’s little in the mostly-instrumental offering to guarantee they’ll stay that way. Or to guarantee much of else, for that matter.

Laden with samples on both sides and condensed under psychedelic loops, the vinyl is striking both visually and sonically. The quality stock mushroom cloud cover that comes in a plastic sleeve unfolds as of six panels that work out to be a sort of gatefold-plus, with the recording info on one side with the aforementioned amp pictures and the two panels of the cover, while the other side is a full-size collage of staring eyes. If they’re setting a mood, it’s odd, paranoid and far beyond conventional — though the music mirrors that as well, as Turner and Webb binge on flashes of experimental noise like “Islamaphobia” and “Sea of Lies” that somehow manage to transition smoothly into “Codex” and the creepy laughter of the encompassingly-fuzzed “Krautpunk.”

Longer pieces like side A’s “Hear the Night Roar” and “Neda” make plain their feedback-soaked challenge, but on the first listen, it’s just about indistinguishable where one ends and the other begins, and if continuity was the intent, then it’s all the more impressive that Big Naturals get there with the diversity and open approach they show throughout these “songs.” With sides split between “Brent Skin Suit I” and “Brent Skin Suit II,” that take-it-as-a-whole sentiment is palpable, the ultra-noisy wash of the former building back up on side B after a fade that leads to a continuation of the melee into “A Good Stalker,” which begins to come down from the intensity some but holds its tension all the same, some far back yelling past the halfway point providing a human element beyond that brought to the album by the flurry of samples scattered across it.

Mostly, Big Naturals are instrumental. Mostly. It’s for the better as well, since these tracks don’t leave much room for verses or even lines beyond those in the news clips of “Small Parts” or the slew of angry exclamations that drives the opening build of “Screaming Midnight Cowboys.” Above everything else, Big Naturals‘ debut seems to be working against categorization, or at least any pigeonhole that might go deeper than “experimental” or “noise,” and to their credit, their self-titled legitimately presents a vicious defiance of genre that every now and then locks in a groove but is just as likely to ride it out as to shift quickly away and follow another whim, daring you as the listener to keep up before the side ends. I feel like I’m constantly three minutes behind — which is pretty good, considering.

Big Naturals, Big Naturals (2013)

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