Since 2011, Rhode Island native Ren Schofield has been producing harsh “technoise” (see: http://www.residentadvisor.net/feature.aspx?1524) under the moniker Container. While the essence of his sound has not necessarily changed much throughout the course of three LPs (all titled LP), his latest release is also his grittiest and most aggressive. It’s like the horror movie sequel that somehow manages to be even grislier and more shocking than the original.
LP #3 kicks off with a brief high-pitched shriek before collapsing into a churning drumbeat. Clocking in at merely 28 minutes altogether, this LP never stops to offer a respite from the punishing noise. Every individual sound has an industrial, even alien feel. The drumbeat in “Remover” nearly sounds like live percussion, and “Cushion” builds to something resembling a siren, but there’s an otherworldly quality that separates these sounds from their earthly counterparts.
In a recent review for Resident Advisor, Andrew Ryce described Matrixxman’s album Homesick as “machine music for a machine-ruled future made by someone who truly loves machines.” While Container’s latest also feels beamed-in from a machine-ruled future, the overall mood here is technophobic. This is gloriously paranoid, unhinged, skittish music. Even as LP’s most subdued (relatively speaking) cut “Peripheral” spirals into a queasy, hypnotic trance, there’s an unmistakable restlessness under the surface.
Based on the song titles and pervasive atmosphere, it seems fair to assume that there’s some political inspiration behind Schofield’s tracks. Marx’s Theory of Alienation explains that in a capitalist society, human labor becomes objectified, thereby isolating the worker from both the craft, as well as society as a whole. This ultimately leads workers to lose any sense of autonomy, reducing them to mere cogs in a machine. By giving his tracks titles such as “Eject,” “Absorb,” and “Appliance,” it is possible that Schofield is commenting on the ills of a capitalist society, where humans are commodified and daily life becomes a mechanistic ritual. This is reflected in the relentless mechanical throb of Container’s music.
In the past year or so, we’ve seen no shortage of impressive scorched-earth techno. And for what it’s worth, Container’s latest lacks the elegance of recent releases by Clark, Lakker, and BNJMN. However, LP is an impressive achievement in its own right, pummeling a listener into submission while remaining oddly danceable. There’s little in the way of romance or restraint, but that is the Container’s intent. As an intelligent, deliberately messy composition, it’s an unqualified success.
Rating: 4/5