Walk the Wheel is the second LP from Truth Cult, but my first introduction to them. My first impression was that the sound would be loud, aggressive, and chaotic. But with 11 songs total, only the opening song, “Squeeze,” really hits that hardcore-style aggression. The rest is certainly loud and chaotic, but after that song it’s alternately more melodic and ambitious. My real comparison is that this comes from the Embrace and Fugazi songbook, merged with a heavy dose of the Jesus Lizard. It’s heavy and independently minded, but it conveys more complex emotions and unpredictable song structures. I hear a lot of Embrace influence in Truth Cult, but they evolve that sound with a dual vocal, female/male approach that gives call and response and contrasting melodic flourishes. All the while, the vocals are pained and authentic. Truth Cult aren’t clean singing at you. You can tell their throats hurt after making this record.
Guitar rules this record, somewhere between Greg Ginn anxious style and post-punk angular riffs, but always forward-driving. The drumming is a big part of the equation, keeping the chaotic guitar on a forward trajectory. The band goes a little more into riffage territory on slower, more melodic songs.
I really enjoy this whole record. The progressions in “Awake, Asleep” jump out to me, as do the call and response melodies in tracks like “Resurrection” or the dueling melodies of “Unstoppable.” The sound is so tight, I was surprised to learn it’s just their second album. There’s a manic, unpredictable element more in line with noise-rock. Heck, there’s a perfectly placed sax solo in “Ain’t Rubbin’ No Shoulders” and, I think, piano in “Kokaine Kommando.”
This record proves that the punk foundation is as relevant as ever, but the music doesn’t have to be brutally aggressive to make its point. The emotion and spirit are just as powerful without the shirts-off testosterone. Even when the sound wanders, like the more experimental “Heavy Water,” which adds some Sonic Youth squeals into the equation, it’s consistently urgent. A lot of sounds come together on Walk The Wheel, and it works to brilliant effect. It's not just the singers’ voices that sound harsh by the end. The whole sonic onslaught is pleasing to listen to, but it leaves you feeling broken, damaged or at least physically drained. When album closer, “Medicine,” abruptly stops, it emphasizes this uneasiness in all the right ways.
