Trying to communicate with one another, especially with someone with which you have strife, is never an easy thing to do. To clarify, I don’t mean internet numbskulls who spew misinformation and debunked conspiracy bullshit. Don’t even try to talk to them. Instead, these relationships can be ones that matter most in your life, or that at least hold meaning, and the gulf between you can be tough to bridge.

Pittsburgh noise mashers Mirakler tackle that subject on “How I Became the Devil,” the band’s debut full-length record. Grasping the energies spewed forth by bands such as Unsane, Nirvana, the Melvins, Helmet, and others of that ilk, this unit—vocalist/guitarist Daniel Gene, bassist Will Novalis, drummer Matt Langille (John Kerr of Pyrithe played drums on the album)—used to make these 15 tracks as volatile and striking as they are. This also is a record that changes its shape with each listen. My feelings transformed with each trip, and the more I thought about the connection issues in my life, these songs became more embedded in my psyche.

“The Good Thief” is a quick intro bathing in feedback, mauling drums, and scorching misery, pouring right into “Ecstatic Fields of Love and Grace” that’s jarring and abrasive. The wild howls jerk as the bludgeoning thickens, trudging into detached singing that melts brains before draining away. “Egg” tears in as the bass drives hard, yowled vocals making your nerve endings tingle. Grungy bass drags, the playing pounds with feral fury, and we’re on to “I Am Violence” that attacks with muscular riffs. The vocals warble as a calculated attack gets under way, bringing smearing force and gutting shrieks. Sludge compounds as noise spits, crazed howls scramble brains, and the playing slowly spreads into the fog. “The Bad Thief” unloads scraping guitars and mangling force, the playing stinging flesh and clobbering, the instrumental piece wounding already vulnerable flesh. “Instant Drugs” chars and jolts as the bass slinks, everything else thrashing relentlessly. Howls crush as the guitars strike, the fervor bubbles as the menace looks you in the eye as it takes you under. “This Is Brit Pop” is slightly less approachable than its title hints, menacing riffs coming down with clobbering force. Wails reverberate on their own before the attack rejoins the fray, the rage boiling over, the thrashing madness opening up wounds that are anything but superficial. Rampaging snarls strike and create psychosis in which you’re entranced.

“Wet Ground Brings Rain” is a quick interlude with guitars glowing, sticks tapping, and the bass lurking, leading into “The Fireworks and the Stars” that snakes with ominous intent. The playing turns into a buzzsaw as the force smashes away, the howls leaving brush burns. The bass solidifies and gets muscular, the fires spread, and only spare parts are left behind. “Kenny” brings start/stop blasting, the guitars glimmer, and slurry growls play games with your psyche. Spiraling and muddy playing chews into bone, the vocals warble, and the punishing final bursts take off heads. “How Many More Will Die” is an interlude with the bass sneaking up on you, noise rising, and strings recoiling, feeling like a loose screw rolling around in a dryer. “Exodus (A Continuous Mutation)” slaughters souls, the bass work leaving oil slicks behind, the heat rising dangerously. The battering increases and becomes an even more terrifying force, molten hell pours lava into every passageway, and the tourniquet is turned, choking out all forces of life. “My Battery Is Low and It’s Getting Dark” is the final interlude with noises vibrating, calls reaching out over desolation, and a strange cloud hovering, slipping into “Christ B.C.” that jars shockingly from the start. Abrasive force and crazed cries land hard, the guitars melting and gutting. The insanity suddenly multiplies as the shrieks return and torment, stabbing with horrific intent. Closer “The Hill” ramps up and openly stampedes, the grunge energy spreading its filthy wings, the guitars jabbing with insult. Rolling darkness makes safety impossible as the playing mauls in place, leaving every escape blocked, percussive chiming tingling your spine, and final gasps coating your lungs with soot.

While the struggle to communicate is at the heart of “How I Became the Devil,”  Mirakler have no problem getting their point across with the force of a sledgehammer on this record. The bloody husks of the ’90s breathe wicked new life, and their modern fingerprints all over this thing make this album feel like a runaway steel beam looking to smash your skull. This is an electric, agitated document that is impossible to digest without taking on a good bit of its mental damage.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.facebook.com/MiraklerNOISE/

To buy the album, go here: https://www.reptilianrecords.com/products/743259-mirakler-how-i-became-the-devil-lp

For more on the label, go here: https://www.reptilianrecords.com/