Outing myself today as a No Men respector. There, I said it. Let it be known that I respect No Men... the band. Specifically, the band No Men... although I am somewhat lukewarm on mankind in the pejorative at the moment.* Which, coincidentally, puts me squarely in the proper demographic of persons disposed to enjoying No Men's music, their name literally being the inversion of the "Yes Man" trope- whatever you got, whatever you want, they'll slap it out of your hands and backhand you for good measure- it's a stylistic promise and aesthetic guarantee. No Men is that rare kind of group that can really cook up heat-seeker after heat-fucking-seeker and direct-hit after direct-fucking-hit when they put their minds to it, and this certainly justifies the veneration I plan to shine on them here, but they also represent something else to me. They were, for a minute, the quintessential Chicago punk band, a spiteful, loud, and incredibly fun group that was all about the music, and let their performances speak first and foremost, and with the most volume, even when the content of what they had to say was as devastating, or more so, than how they said it. They more or less came up in the midst of the "sad girl" era of indie rock characterized by Lucy Dacus, Phoebe Bridgers, and the like, and managed to hold their own against the winds of these trends as they swept through the Chicago scene, staying meaner, more punishing and crueler in an old school kind of way, without opposing their contemptoaries or losing their footing on the progressive fluctuations of the landscape as it shifted beneath them- remaining independent and flexible while praying for a rain of fire to cleanse the land of its endemic rashes of idiocy. Over time, the band has adopted more atmospheric and darkly dreamy embellishments into their sound, most notably present on 2023's
Fear This, but to my ears, their debut is still the most faithful and compelling personification of the core of their aesthetic conceits.
DEAR GOD, BRING THE DOOM is No Men's first full-length album, recorded mostly live over a two-day period at Two State Audio on the North Side of Chicago. No Men's sound is a blasting and antagonistic form of skeletal garage rock which draws influences from a wide spectrum of punk rock. They are analogous to some mid-aughts super heavy rock group, like Death from Above 1979, arriving at a dead-stop epiphany that all they really want to do is sound like Big Black, but with slightly more groovy gestalt in their austere, boiled-down guitars and bass lines. Lyrically, they deal mostly with revenge, failure, twisted romance, and episodes of pitiful angst that many crybaby losers bear like a large cross that they whittled from the original cross of the crucifixion.** Album highlights include the nihilistic smash and grab of "Stay Dumb," and the gut-shredding hooks and subterranean beat of "Brut," along with "Sleeping with the Enemy" which sounds like a sock-hop hosted by Steve Albini, in addition to the sharp and deliberate guitar work on "Hell is Real" and album closer "Violette," both of which are incorrigible, violent and unsettling while still managing to be stone cold rockers. This album's tense, dark vibe is reminiscent of '80s punk mainstays like Flipper and no-wave mavericks like Nick Cave. At the same time, its boisterous grooves put it in the camp of contemporary hard rock and pan-metal acts like Red Fang, and even bleed profusely and messily into Jesus Lizard-esque noise rock territory. Still, the emphasis on melody in these songs makes for a good pairing with witchy singer-songwriters like PJ Harvey- if, you know, you're workin' on a playlist for somebody who hates all the same stuff you do.***
DEAR GOD, BRING THE DOOM. Need I say more?
*A discussion for another time.
** Feeling persecuted while having no real problems has basically become a profession for many internet-addicted grifters... they know who they are, and so do we!
*** A very "mall-goth" and therefore very 2025 manner of flirting.
