Genghis Tron - Signal Fire [Royal Blue] Vinyl Record

With their fourth full-length album Signal Fire, GENGHIS TRON awaken us from the post-apocalyptic daydreams of their previous work with a violent—and most welcome—shove. This time, the distant-future reveries we first heard on Board Up The House give way to an unsettling awareness of the present we’re actually living, as our circumstances grow too pressing to try and escape.

“Signal Fire envisions a Kojima-esque dystopia of endless proxy warfare,” says vocalist and lyricist Tony Wolski (The Armed), “where the deluge of available information has outmoded the human ability to parse it.  A world where those amoral, shameless and cunning enough can literally reshape reality at their whim through sheer insistence."

Having roared onto the scene in 2004 with a uniquely demented blend of extreme metal, synthesizer textures, and drum-machine madness, GENGHIS TRON are no strangers to making a forceful impression. But Signal Fire marks the first time bandleaders Michael Sochynsky and Hamilton Jordan –joined again by Wolski and Nick Yacyshyn (SUMAC) on drums, plus newcomer Kenny Szymanski (The Armed) on bass–has captured this level of urgency with such  visceral precision.  “This album is very much rooted in the now,” confirms Jordan.

Album opener “I Am All” sets the table with a chest-throbbing synth pulse as Wolski declares “I’m on a tear, I’m on a tear,” over swirling industrial rhythms and creeping synthlines. “Nothing Blooms in the Hollow” grafts desert-rock swagger onto interlocking layers of dizzying riffs and chants before Wolski steers the band into full-on sonic burnout, like a spaceship careening into the sun. “Born Prey” navigates deftly through Genghis Tron’s classic sonic touchpoints: furious blastbeats, electronic breaks, haunting vocal earworms, and a towering synth-pop crescendo. Meditative interludes like “Like Fotocrom” and “Without Form” deliver shimmering, ominous beauty. And “New Gods” invokes Rabies-era Skinny Puppy to bring the album to a bludgeoning, anthemic finale, as Wolski screams on repeat: “New gods to bleed me out / No new peace / Bleed me out / I love it.”

Twenty years into their career, having proven their ability to forge common ground between Ministry and Aphex Twin, between Brutal Truth and Boards Of Canada, between Cluster and Converge, ugly-beautiful new genre hybrids from GENGHIS TRON no longer come as a surprise.  What’s remarkable, however, is how Sochynsky and Jordan have taken a project that started in 2004 as a dorm-room genre-pastiche experiment —”a chaotic, wild amalgamation of all our favorite stuff, literally slammed together,” says Jordan—and refined their songwriting craft to deliver a sound that is unmistakably their own.