Like its 2010 predecessor — the aggressively titled What Does Not Evolve Must Burn (review here) — the self-titled second EP from DIY Greek four-piece Bad Trip is a melee of instrumental twists and turns. Based loosely around noise rock the way bodies are based around feet, the newest offering splits neatly into two vinyl sides, one with two cuts, the second with one, and tops 31 minutes of forceful push. Two-guitar crunch drives the proceedings forward, and while elements like sampled spoken word on the 16-minute B-side “Dead Dream Nation” — you’ll note the Sonic Youth reference as well to 1988’s Daydream Nation; not an accident — are familiar from last time, there are some standout factors that make Bad Trip a distinctive release of its own, particularly in its vinyl incarnation.

The pressing underscores Bad Trip‘s self-releasing ethic. It feels like a handmade private press, because basically it is. The cover’s intricately detailed art comes screenprinted on thick paper stock and speaks to the social thematic that bled through What Does Not Evolve Must Burn and returns in the B side here, but there’s also a sonic expansion at work in “Into Overdrive” and “Absence of Meaning.” Bad Trip’s approach is solidifying. That’s evident in the distinct verses and instrumental chorus of “Into Overdrive,” which still manages to elicit an open feel thanks to an ambient break in the midsection that rebuilds to some less-spastic but gleefully destructive crashing. Parts repeat in a linear build and all of a sudden it’s clear that Bad Trip — the present lineup of guitarist George and Alek, bassist Pan and drummer Skinman — are writing actual songs and not just stringing parts together.

That remains true on the subsequent “Absence of Meaning” and on “Dead Dream Nation” as well, and in the absence of vocals, which would provide easier cues to the listener, it’s up to the instruments to make the distinctions. On “Into Overdrive,” there are starts and stops that accomplish this, while the Yawning Man-style post-rock at the start of “Absence of Meaning” gives an entirely different context to that song’s build and to the chugging mosh part and soloing to which it ultimately leads. “Dead Dream Nation” cheats this a bit, with the sampled speeches from playwright Arthur Miller and Epameinondas Remoundakis, who helped modernize the leper colony on the island of Spinalonga off Crete in the 1940s, but still arrives at a lead guitar crescendo worthy of peak-era Opeth circa 12 minutes in before dropping out only to return with the real apex that concludes the song.

Sometimes, with a full-length album, having it split into vinyl sides pulls you out of an overarching flow. With Bad Trip, what it really does is keep you from getting lost in the progressions of the three songs — it keeps you paying attention. Maybe by the end of “Absence of Meaning” you’re lost in the song’s build, well then it’s time to get up and flip the record. That snap back to consciousness makes a big difference in the listening experience, and where on CD, Bad Trip‘s Bad Trip is enjoyable for how immersive a listen it is, on vinyl, it’s the break that makes the material hold up all the more.

Bad Trip, Bad Trip (2013)

Bad Trip on Bandcamp

Bad Trip on Thee Facebooks

Not to be confused with the purposefully-weird California outfit, Bad Acid Trip, who got some exposure in the middle part of the last decade when System of a Down’s Serj Tankian got behind them for an album release, the Greek four-piece Bad Trip specialize in a noisy brand of instrumental post-metal. Their first self-released EP, What Does Not Evolve Must Burn, follows a demo and a split with fellow Thessaloniki natives 63High, and boasts four songs across three tracks spanning 23 minutes in a hand-stamped black and white digibook that makes it an immediate curiosity. I opened the package it came in and had to put the disc on right away, which almost never happens.

What Does Not Evolve Must Burn has sonic intensity to match its fervent title. The double guitars of Alex and George (first names only) are heavy tone-wise, but gain further weight from the quick changes they make and their ability to fluidly tie the music together. The rhythm section of Fots (bass) and Sakis (drums) does a more than capable job keeping up, Fots adding character to the third cut, “My Homeland is Not Land but People.” The titles all take on a sociopolitical theme, opening with “Oppressed,” and running through “Antination” and the secret cut, “Organized Crime,” which features a lengthy spoken sample from Richard Linklater’s 2001 film Waking Life the text of which is printed on the inside of the packaging. That sample starts, “Our critique began as all critiques begin, with doubt. Doubt became our narrative,” and affects an atmosphere similar to that on Neurosis’ “Takeahnase” from 1992’s Souls at Zero.

What’s perhaps most curious about Bad Trip, though, is why a band who obviously has so much to say would be instrumental. Their discontent is ably conveyed musically, and with the open structures of the songs, it’s not like they’re sitting there waiting for a singer to come along and slap on a chorus, but for a band to offer such thematic passion – political passion, no less, which it seems everyone and anyone can vocalize at will – and not back it up with lyrics feels like an odd choice. Maybe they just couldn’t find anyone and didn’t want to do it themselves. Again, the songs don’t sound like they’re missing vocals – at a constantly shifting 23 minutes, there’s hardly time for them to be – but it’s contrary to expectation and so notable that they’re not there.

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