11/01/2024
Brilliant review for SDR artist neuroshock
The Reactance Bias by n e u r o s h o c k (reviewed by Christina Vox of vox + stix / vox + guest, January 10, 2024.)
These days, Ben Rüsch, an Excelsior Award winner, spends his time on n e u r o s h o c k, a solo electro/industrial darkwave project. In another life, he was the drummer in a prog power trio. If this sounds like absolute sonic whiplash, you’re not wrong. But listening to The Reactance Bias, his first LP and the fruits of that musical metamorphosis, is quite the opposite. While the themes of the album are rather intense and heavy, exploring feelings of rage, helplessness and then deep motivation to act, grief and depression, and other mental health issues, the overarching sense is one of release, a catharsis rather than a burdening. There’s a lot to unpack here for those who want to do more than just listen and enjoy casually, although that’s also an option.
One more quick note before we dive in: As an unapologetic word nerd, my eyes perked up when I saw the track list. These are not throwaway titles by any stretch. I believe the specificity of each denotes an emotional roadmap drawn for us by Rüsch. Keen listeners will do well to reference it as they go. I’ve tried to do the same as I interpret it.
The ominous opener, Resurrection Machine, begins with dialogue from Blade Runner 2049, which recurs throughout the album. This particular snippet is about a desire to be remade, a phoenix from the ashes, which seems fitting given Rüsch’s aforementioned journey. Reverbed percussion snaps into low-end synth with a wobbly, futuristic overlay. The song builds slowly, layering in swells of synth instrumentation like anthemic guitar power chords, orchestral strings, and choral elements, among others. This along with the dialogue fosters an otherworldly feel that is utterly cinematic. I’m always mindful with instrumental pieces of how much pressure is on the instrumentation to convey the meaning of each track, since there are no lyrics to rely on for that. Resurrection Machine is both powerful and vulnerable, a portentous and wonderful way to begin.
Biogenic, meaning something that is created by living things, blasts open with a funky drumbeat, dancey synth, and alien-sounding effects. There’s an urgency to the instrumentation here, as bouncy as it is, and the choice of dialogue indicates a battle against being subsumed by something repugnant, dismantled until you’re completely lost. The combination is eerie and unsettling, which surprised me because on its face this is an uptempo, very jovially listenable track. But Rüsch seems to have other underpinnings in mind.
Liminal Spaces begins from a much more clearly sinister place, with a voice that sounds like a didgeridoo. The title describes a sort of psychological phenomenon during which someone uneasily occupies the space between evolving identities or secure cognitive footholds. I think of this transitional time as the “peeled grape” phase, the difficult limbo between shedding old coping or defense mechanisms and developing new, healthier ones; you’re raw and vulnerable like a peeled grape. This song — in a way that’s incredibly difficult to articulate — is a sonic representation of this aperture, which can be something banal and physical all the way to something more emotionally significant. Rüsch couples almost arena-rock percussion with jittery, creepy synth, guitar, and nerve-jangling triangle accents. The only word for the result is ominous, down to the indoctrination feel of the dialogue. I left this piece feeling intensely uncomfortable, but curious what was next.
That would be the title track. For those unfamiliar with the term, the reactance bias is the human tendency to reject any premise or situation in which people feel their agency or free will has been taken away. This dovetails nicely with the aural narrative Rüsch has constructed thus far. There’s a palpable anger to this song, an uncoiling of sorts that feels like danger. The dialogue is very intense, almost as if Rage Against the Machine were doing voiceover work, and the strobing, Doppler effect of the instrumentation against the driving and relentless drums creates a breathless tension and mysterious exigency. This song feels like a battle cry, a desperate and possibly fleeting marshaling of will against an almost-invincible enemy. The Reactance Bias is the musical equivalent of running for your life. It’s also a definite high point of the album.
As I describe this LP, I’m aware how the progression of the tracks mirrors the arc of a movie or book. There are moments of rising action building to a climax before the inevitable denouement. But there’s nothing formulaic about this process. Critical Mass reads as a crossroads, putting us in the heart of the crisis point, the moment when our hero has fully realized all they’re up against and must decide whether to fight. The supernatural sounds used in this song almost defy description. It sounds alien and hollow, almost as if an abyss could scream. Darkness defines this track and leaves our protagonist at a helpless, hopeless place.
Nothing More doesn’t do much to relieve this ache. In fact, it seems to intensify it. The nu-wave vibe of the percussion is rendered desolate by Philip Glass-esque piano, sharp, unyielding synth, and yearning, almost Gregorian chant vocals. For me, this song feels like falling endlessly through time, the collapse of someone who has done all they can and watched it ultimately mean nothing. It’s uncanny how visceral this reaction was for me and while I have no idea whether that’s what Rüsch intended, it’s hard to imagine another way to feel from this track. Another very strong entry on the album.
By the time we get to Engineered to Fail, it seems impossible to ignore that this album’s tale won’t have a happy ending. There’s an abandoned marionette feel to this one, which the heartwrenching instrumentation heightens and deepens along with the funereal vocalization. I was steeped in a sense of destruction here, a chasm of shattered hope and despair. There’s a plaintive synth line over a lonely drone with knocking percussive elements and the feeling they create together is very much one of having been utterly demolished. This may well be my favorite song on the LP, although that’s an odd thing to say about something that made me feel so heartbroken. But the gritty anguish is so real that I admire how wholly it offered itself to me without disguise.
Discard Me (I Am a Lie) is an interesting track. Somehow it doesn’t interlock as cleanly with the emotional trajectory of the rest of the album, almost as if it could’ve been a separate or hidden song at the end. That does nothing to detract from either the piece or the LP, however. The Knight Rider theme feel (please recognize that as a compliment!) makes this more of a straight banger than the rest of the songs, until it gives way to a moody interstitial bridge of sorts that then remains incorporated into the rest of the track. The midpoint leans into and stays with an electronic rhythm and synth, which dances brightly over what morphs into an incredibly danceable club track in the best way. As disturbing as the “I am alive” refrain is, it doesn’t dampen the spirit of the piece at all. This is one of the “easier” listens on the album.
The vocals on Redacted are much more prominent than on any other track to this point. There’s a retro feel here that’s also simultaneously futuristic, kind of how movies of the 50s thought the year 2023 might look. This is also the most “organic” sounding song on the LP, owing largely to the vocals and the drums. It resonates as a Rob Zombie cri de coeur of sorts, a last gasp for help or attention or acknowledgement. It also gives me the sense that our hero has had about all they can take.
That sense makes the fact that the penultimate track is titled Submission less of a shock. We return here to the bleakness of earlier, although there’s a proggy, Pink Floyd flavor to it now. It’s an interesting choice that as the protagonist loses his humanity, the album becomes more human sonically. It’s also a clever move to effect the vocals midway such that they move from a more mortal timbre to a more robotic one, signaling the final transformation from person to cog in the machine. The use of particularly rich synth throughout is a nice touch. We aren’t being coddled out of this album and I respect Rüsch’s commitment to conveying the dismal outcome of this journey.
Trash Head, the final track, is the most aggressive of the bunch. With an almost political feel to the lyrics, it represents the depravity of all that would seek to control and consume us. The Borg, the overlords, “The Man” have won again here and Rüsch isn’t going to let it go unremarked. These are the most scorching lyrics he’s written for TRB and it takes us out on a defeated, but anarchic note. This song will have you banging your head along and stomping out your feelings on the floor. A powerful way to end the album, to be sure.
The Reactance Bias is not a simple listen. I like that about it a lot. The emotional content of each song really deserves more than divided attention or fast food consideration. While it might not be an uplifting album, it’s definitely a meaningful one and it expresses dark, universal themes in novel and compelling ways. If this is n e u r o s h o c k’s debut, I can’t imagine what lies ahead for this intriguing project, but I’m eager to find out. — CB
