If it’s not fixed, don’t try to unbreak it is a morbid flip on the cliché that can be applied perfectly to the Chat Pile creative model right now. The world hasn’t changed all that much since the Oklahoma City noise rockers reaped a towering bleakness from eternal noise rock damnation, corroded, twisted metal, and a poison tongue of post-hardcore intellect with their 2022 debut, God’s Country. Because what was horrifying back then remains equally — if not, more so — horrifying today, very little about the four-piece’s steady diet of chomping on and regurgitating society needn’t really be tweaked.

You could say that with their sophomore effort, Cool World, they’ve found a groove to it all, however, like they’ve really leaned into the role of the biggest, benevolent bestial god at the top of the food chain who enjoys toying with its prey right before shredding its flesh and popping its organs open with its jaw. That added zest in their stalking steps is appreciative, in that they’re doing their most to tenderize a little extra seasoning in with their heaviness, inflict some sharper stabs of pain, dashes of dark, cosmic humor, and mix their nihilistic slurry together with terminally seasick rhythms. Throughout the feeding process, the stomach is growling aggressively and rarely satiated instantaneously, even though the beast could satisfy its urges whenever it wants.

Instead, it’s a practice in timing. Staring down at the pathetic human miscreants that often litter the listen’s scenes and in making them pray for mercy, Raygun Busch has taken to singing to his food, as if to falsely calm their nerves before the call for slaughter. When he and Chat Pile obey their desire and chomp down to destroy, only then is everything is right in their world.

Recommended: “I Am Dog Now”, “Shame”, “Masc”

Chat Pile’s Cool World will be released October 11th on The Flenser.

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