Making something out of nothing is human nature. We are consistently forced to scrap together meager funds or make the most out of a much-too-cramped living arrangement.

God Alone made more than lemonade out of lemons; they’ve created filet mignon from discounted ground beef.


ETC (Prosthetic Records) isn’t a roughshod attempt at penning the next arena rock anthem. Instead, the Irish quintet utilize all matters of industrial noise and deft musicianship. It’s both what they use and how they use it in tandem. Listening through the forty-two minutes is proof God Alone is playing chess while we’re all playing Go Fish. It’s the feeling of witnessing something special, something greater than what meets the ears.


ETC houses adept finger-working, a menagerie of musical manifestations. Exploring it is like watching a sped-up timelapse of the Texas cloverleaf during peak rush hour. For as chaotically unique as the tracks are, tangible melodies still materialize and are brought to the fore. Whether the music melts into a puddle of byproduct or slips into anticipatory eerie vibes, God Alone harness the madness.


‘Tsk tsk tsk’ introduces futuristic beeps and becomes rhythmic, aided by pitter-patter percussion. The unorthodox-named ‘15BM1989’ is muffled, like when attending an intimate show wearing ear plugs. Even then, a switch flips and soon everyone is assaulted by auditory lawn mowers.


What God Alone didn’t do on ETC is follow a manual or how-to. The record is unabashedly theirs. It’s as organized as it is unhinged. It carries with it an innate belief that what these artists are accomplishing – regardless of our ability to grasp it at first – is grand, clever. It’s music in the sense that the audio pours out of the speakers. But it’s more sophisticated than the individual parts suggest.


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8 / 10