Show Me the Body’s last two albums, particularly 2022’s Trouble the Water (as well as the Corpus mixtapes from 2017 and 2024), felt like they were recorded in a dry basement filled with smoke and smelling of pesticides. The result was a murky, punk-industrial vibe, mixes brimming with thorny and clangorous textures. Lyrically, the band centered on the oppressive aspects of capitalism, how individuals and communities are systematically disempowered by corporate and governmental monoliths.
The band’s fourth LP, Alone Together, captures an intriguing pivot. Producers Klas Åhlund and Kenneth Blume (the erstwhile Kenny Beats) usher the band up a set of raggedy steps, out of the basement, and into the living room. Sunlight – occasionally dappled, mostly glaring – splashes through open windows; a hot breeze gusts down the hallway. Still, despite the somewhat airier, less cramped feel, these tracks are, like previous work, barbed and confrontive, Julian Cashwan Pratt’s vocals as swaggery as ever.
With Trouble the Water, a listener encountered haunted urgency; mixes wrapped in what occurred as toxic opaqueness. The sequence landed as the culmination of an MO honed since the band’s debut, 2016’s Body War. With Alone Together, the sound is more immediate, less buffered, and brighter.
The opening bars of “Eat the Peace”, for example, represent Show Me the Body’s most untampered-with sound. There’s a crystalline quality to the distortion on Pratt’s signature banjo, which, for all practical purposes, is a noisy guitar (tube amp, electric strings, humbucker pick-ups, effects pedals). Nijol Benjamin’s drums are as crisp as we’ve heard. Harlan Steed’s bass jabs like a round fist rather than a steel finger. Pratt’s vocals remain reliably pugilistic – “Radical love compels me to fight” – but are unprecedentedly clear, the singer nailing a strongman-empath pose similar to IDLES’ Joe Talbot, Soul Glo’s Pierce Jordan, and prototypical scrapper/sensitivo Henry Rollins.
One keeps expecting the band to inch too far into the sunlight, landing in a mainstream pop domain; people holding up and waving their smartphones. But that doesn’t happen. The banjo on “No God” is tweaked, conjuring images of Breaking Bad and meth production, yet resonant, even mellifluous. It then shifts into a riffy progression that, in turn, segues into a series of staccato blasts. The loud-soft dynamics are compelling. Pratt reminds us repeatedly that “there’s no god to make it real”. For better or worse, we’re alone out here.
Show Me the Body, like Chat Pile and Zulu, among others, revamp the sociocultural roots of punk, anchoring themselves in longstanding anti-establishment postures (that hearken back to The Sex Pistols, The Clash, and the next-generation Dead Kennedys). “Dance in the USA” is an abrasive and sarcastic attack on economic and social inequalities. If we’re dancing, it’s mock-dancing or sublimating tension by slamming into compadres du jour in a beer-sloshed club. Still, for all its drama, this is Show Me the Body without sonic masks, presumably deferring to Åhlund and Blume, whose relatively hands-off approach recalls Rick Rubin’s work on Johnny Cash’s American Recordings and Black Sabbath’s 13.
The horn-led and spoken-word “Interlude” shows Pratt expanding on “Dance in the USA”’s existential position, as he assumes an everyperson role, advocating authentic expression and feting the loner impulse (“All those who stand alone / god bless you, I dance for you”). Like the opening track, “Overture”, “Interlude” stands in contrast to the album’s heavier pieces, also serving as a thematic touchstone (both pieces overtly accentuate the band’s affinity for underdogs).
“See You Again” similarly underscores a minimalist bent. Accompanied by his banjo, Pratt occurs as a broody singer-songwriter, expressing cautious gratitude for being alive and love for friends who have passed (“It’s no precious thing but life has a way of just stopping”). On “Trust”, the band as a whole navigate a roomier space, Pratt waxing odic, though as the piece progresses, everyone leaps into a boisterous roil that brings to mind a Fontaines, D.C. outtake.
With “New Line”, the band round the final lap, the banjo cutting like jagged but clean glass (you’ll bleed, but no need to worry about infection). Pratt observes the world’s decline (“It’s getting closer to the end … Total annihilation, time to make a new friend”). The closing title cut serves as a conclusive statement: “They want you to stick to the fold … But blessed are those who stand alone”. Stark segments are juxtaposed with inflammatory parts reminiscent of Tom Morello and Rage Against the Machine. “Stand alone / Alone together” are Pratt’s parting words: individuals who unite are still individuals (though history might have something to say about that).
With Alone Together, Show Me the Body broaden their songwriting techniques, doubling down on an aggressive stance while working pointedly with austerities. Additionally, courtesy of producers Åhlund and Blume, the band shed much of the haze that characterized previous outings. Alone Together highlights the band’s versatility and restlessness, as they explore the fertile connections between songcraft, performance, and production.
