Dry Socket – Self Defense Techniques | Album Review
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Get Better Records
Every phone has a camera that can be turned on you at any moment. If you don’t think that reality shapes your behavior, you’re fooling yourself. But cameras in everyone’s pockets are only the latest tool in a long history of policing behavior. It wasn’t phones that kept me in the closet; it was getting harassed for acting femininely that stopped me from transitioning for so long. Our self-imposed panopticon polices every deviation from the norm, be it arguing against the current power structures, or for simply existing as a queer person, a person of color, or a person with disabilities. As Dani Allen, Dry Socket’s indomitable vocalist, puts it, “we were never quiet, we were silenced.”
Dry Socket’s project is the ruthless disintegration of that panopticon that keeps us locked in a suffocating status quo. Hailing from Portland, Oregon, the quintet has amassed a discography so fast you’d be forgiven for thinking these songs fall out of them fully formed. Not only is their oeuvre vast, but each song hits with the chaotic energy of an IED. Last year's split with Tijuanense powerviolence luminaries Violencia was a watermark so high most bands would struggle to clear. Particularly exceptional is “Legal Tilling,” a piece of music so chilling that all you can do while listening to it is question every decision you’ve ever made that has helped uphold the status quo. Allen delivers the monologue as a surrealistic public service announcement and wrote it specifically addressing Trump voters, but the power comes from how it implicates everyone. Before you can even think up an excuse for your feelings, Allen is shouting about how “they’re voting for the rapists / their clapping for their lies” on the following “Last Chance.” That transition from “Legal Tilling” into “Last Chance” was the single greatest moment on a hardcore record since Christina Michelle screamed the final verse of Gouge Away’s “Hey Mercy.” How could Dry Socket top it?
From the moment Allen’s vocals open Self Defense Techniques, Dry Socket’s second LP, any concern that the well had run dry is gone. You might even start thinking you’re listening to a masterpiece. Don’t worry, you are. “Tired of being scared / exhausted by their hate / no longer living to appease and placate.” Before a single instrument has even started playing, Allen’s voice alone creates an entire world of emotion. The way the back half of the word ‘scared’ drops – still a scream, but with the hint of a whimper – expresses more about the conditions we live under than most other hardcore bands are able to capture on entire albums. Then the drums kick in, and Allen’s yells take on an almost triumphant tone. But the guitars, the guitars make the song sway like a boxer barely ducking jabs in the tenth round. Allen yells, “their muzzle is a slow death” as the band drops out, finding herself alone in the ring as the current champion of history attempts to knock out the remaining opposition. “The Chop” is “Rise Above” for a generation raised under a surveillance state.
Every second of Self Defense Techniques is suffused with a righteous contempt at those who impose the conditions we are expected to suffer under. The lead single, “Rigged Survival,” is an epic of radicalization in miniature. It starts with Allen seething over the lack of change: “it’s fucking with my head / dread without end / no future I can see.” Then, she provides a litany of offensives over blastbeats: “every breath a debt we owe / promises we never chose.” She ends with eyes wide open: “Can’t face tomorrow kneeling in defeat / born for more than fear and greed.” It’s not victory, but isn’t it thrilling to realize you can’t take it anymore?
“Rigged Survival” segues directly into “Safety On,” where Allen perfectly distills the experience of having to behave “properly” for your existence to be respected: “swallow fire / speak in flowers / and still remain.” Likewise, on “Leglock,” Allen details how having a chronic illness informs collapsible notions of the future, setting the stage bluntly by declaring “no peace in life, only rest in the ground.” The whole track feels funereal, and then Allen starts laying to rest “the pain you’ll never know,” “the strength [she] couldn’t save,” and “the person [she] used to be.” The song moves from just having a mournful tone to being a eulogy.
“Leglock” is the pinnacle of Dry Socket’s efforts on this record, forcing listeners to reckon with a lived reality they may never have considered – a reality they may never have considered because they’ve made it clear they don’t want to hear about it. “Leglock’s” successor, “Pressure Points,” also grapples with futures disappearing as Allen screams “no one is coming / no one survives / no god no justice / your savior is a fucking lie.” Just because you’re “healthy,” cis, white, or rich, doesn’t mean you will survive fascist accelerationism. When “your god is already ash,” what good will having been silent do for you? As Allen said on “Legal Tilling,” it’s not punishment to dig your own grave, it’s participation.
Until we decide we’ll no longer participate and tear down the panopticon, we’ll need to heed Allen’s warning on “95%,” Self Defense Techniques haunting closer, “softness will not serve you here.”
