Never Exhale, the Brighton quintet’s second album, channels their volatile energy into a swirling vortex that feels both intensely suffocating and freely vital. Effectively drawing inspiration from recent life spent constantly on the road touring they create a turbulent statement on the mundanity and oddness of touring. The bewilderment; the chaos; the disorientation; and being left with time to think. Using driving rhythms and repetitious beats as the basis for the songs, from the clicked ignition and blinking lights of the opening instrumental “V70” to the closer “britney” the driving references pile up.
You could argue that the frenetic intensity of their live shows, visible on their early singles, hasn’t quite translated to subsequent recordings but here DITZ delivers a project that sharpens their chaotic edge without sanding it down.
Lyrically, Never Exhale feels like an anxiety-fueled scream into the void. Vocalist C.A. Francis vacillates between seething and unhinged, their delivery landing somewhere between punk incantation and existential exorcism. “Senor Siniestro” sums up most of the self-reflection. “I feel like death / I wonder if he feels like me too / I wonder if he feels his own weight pull heavy on his chest / Drag him down into the depths and leave him sinking as one leviathan among the rest.” They tap into themes of alienation, consumerist monotony, and the tension of navigating a world teetering on the brink. The lyrics can be fractured yet visceral, creating a sense of fragmented clarity, like fleeting thoughts sharpened into knives. It’s a tightrope walk of hellish poetry and abrasive dread.
The guitars are harsh yet dynamic, often swerving between
guttural distortion and shards of melodic feedback. Basslines churn and
rumble like tectonic plates, forming a foundation for the whirlwind of
sounds above. Meanwhile, the drumming, such as on “God on a Speed
Dial”, is relentless, propelling the songs forward with fried urgency.
Despite the chaos, there’s a deliberate architecture to the noise. “18
Wheeler” begins with sparse, almost meditative textures before erupting
into a maelstrom of sound, creating a tension-and-release dynamic that
keeps the listener on edge.
Occasionally the lyrics grapple for an image or mixed
metaphor that’s muddied, convoluted or so dense that they’re fumbling
for understanding. But that’s a minor gripe given the immaculate
separation of sounds that generate a crisp, vital feeling not mired in
production sludge. With “The Body As A Structure” the dissected self is
examined, unearthed, and reassembled. The slower tempo and dialed-back
aggression offer a moment of uneasy introspection that’s borderline
melodic (at times) before veering into more interesting musical places
just as it may seem like becoming palatable.
The band's melding of industrial clatter, angular post-punk
riffs, and even moments of uneasy silence build an atmosphere that
feels claustrophobic yet exhilarating, pushing the boundaries of their
sound. It’s not a huge sonic departure from their 2022 debut The Great Regression in many ways but it does allude to growth even through the dread. For all its fury and fragmentation, Never Exhale
is remarkably cohesive, a testament to DITZ’s ability to harness chaos
into something purposeful. They are a vital voice, unafraid to wade into
the darkest corners of the human condition. Whether you’re drawn in by
the lyrical catharsis or the sheer sonic force, Never Exhale is an experience worth enduring. Just be sure to breathe.
