BIG|BRAVE dive even deeper into the spaces in between certainty and chaos as well as music and noise on in grief or in hope.
Release date: June 12, 2026 | Thrill Jockey | Facebook | Instagram | Bandcamp
Those of us heavily invested in the arts, whether as consumers or creators, generally oppose generative AI. Since it has been a pressing and dominating topic, I will spare you the abundance of arguments save for one of the key arguments from a purely creative consideration. AI can only draw on the past and reshape those ideas. It is incapable of truly creating something new. It is for this reason that I remain hopeful that no matter how invasive this technology becomes in our day-to-day existence, there will always remain a contingency of dedicated artists creating outside of the AI world. AI itself necessitates it to push forward, after all, but more importantly, humanity needs these kinds of artists. We always have. The most remarkable art always pushes the boundaries of art and humanity in tangential directions. This site is a good example of that. It is rare that we cover traditionally mainstream music, because the major industrialists of mainstream art make safe bets and sell generally bland and uninteresting products, with some exceptions.
In the world of heavy music, there are few acts who have continuously pushed their sound into new territories as consistently as BIG|BRAVE. Ostensibly a doom metal act, BIG|BRAVE have spent the 12 years since their debut, Feral Verdure, pushing the core elements of their sound into broader and more experimental realms over a whopping 10 albums. Their latest, in grief or in hope, is no exception. After last year’s entirely instrumental OST and in particular guitarist Mat Ball‘s Amplified Guitar albums, the band has dialed in something at once familiar and unique on in grief or in hope: a drumless collection of sonic textures and the return of Robin Wattie’s expressive voice.
In place of drums, BIG|BRAVE enlisted longtime touring bassist Liam Andrews on bass guitar (as well as amplifiers, harmonica, and prepared speakers) as well as longtime recording engineer Seth Manchester on synthesizers. Both provide rhythmic pulses while Ball and Wattie manipulate their own guitars and amplifiers creating texturally dense drones and sonic experimentations. These noisy, electronic and electric elements morph and weave with dream logic, somewhat capitalizing on the trending concept of liminality. Riffs and solos aren’t exactly part of the equation. The first two minutes of the opening track “what may be the kindest way to leave” is a shimmering, almost gossamer array of higher frequency electronic feedback and amplifier drones as Wattie employs autotune on her voice. As much as it feels like something else, it is unmistakably BIG|BRAVE. An echoing bass shifts the dreamscape into something less ethereal but no less complex as Wattie’s voice comes in clear and sober for the middle portion of the track before the squall of guitars and feedback ascend into a tense and somber conclusion.
This merger of noise, feedback loops, and synthesizers may seem limiting. As much as I love drone metal, like Sunn O))), I have to admit that it has its limitations. BIG|BRAVE proves that the core concept of drone metal and minimalistic compositions can swell and move like the best ambient or funeral doom or harsh noise artists. There are acoustic guitars, here, like on “a shape of shame”, but they are also more a part of the rhythm section than anything else. “the ineptitude for mutual discernment”, meanwhile, functionally feels like a barely sped up Sunn O))) intro, and like the drone metal stalwarts most recent album, the live recording of amplifier worship pushed to its limit sounds incredible, heavy as a loaded container ship slowly pulling into port, each incoming wave of sound splashing off of an impenetrable hull of distortion.
Wattie’s voice has often been part of the band’s signature sound, pushing her emotive lyrics into animalistic yawps that would make Allen Ginsberg proud, and while some of that is present on in hope or in grief, Wattie sounds more controlled and restrained throughout much of the album. Without the hard-hitting snare beats to punctuate her voice, this more measured approach feels more haunting and deft than she has ever sounded. Indeed, the more ambient-forward approach to this album feels like a horror movie soundtrack, like on the instrumental “holding tongue”, but this isn’t John Carpenter so much as it is the gritty textures of something from A24 where the terrors are more psychologically visceral. This gives the softer singing style a more ghastly presence, as if in the dense blackness and stillness of a deep underground cavern of sound there was an apparition cooing lamentations and queries about the relationship of the soul to everyday suffering and the complexities of navigating self preservation against love and compassion for others.
“skin ripper”, already a haunted title, introduces something of a riff that moves like a funeral dirge juxtaposed against pop-oriented vocal melodies. In fact, much of this album features vocal lines that feel more melodious and pop-forward than much of BIG|BRAVE‘s previous work, but this is far from Charli XCX, more like the subtly shifting melodies of Mazzy Star or the earlier works of Low, gently building and calming amongst a din of shifting timbres. This works so well that the occasional autotune, which returns on “an uttering of antipathy”, is almost unnoticeable. I’m sure metalheads may quiver and seethe at the mention of autotune, but here it adds to the spectral beauty rather than the robotic quirkiness that people often associate with it. The refrain of ‘God only blames me‘ echoes and lingers in one of the most heart wrenching moments on the album, enhanced by live vocal effects. All of the experimentations and sonic elements come together brilliantly across the whole album, but the final, titular track showcases BIG|BRAVE‘s new sound perhaps the best as the various sonic textures swirl and envelop you like a weighted blanket. This is one of the best tracks of the band’s entire catalogue.
Once again, BIG|BRAVE proves that no one sounds like BIG|BRAVE, not even them. Their ever evolving excursions of sound make them one of the most tangible and prescient acts in the AI resistance, even if that isn’t their stated goal. The band simply cannot, will not sit still long enough in one space to become dull, tired, trite, or imitable. Though they have always walked their own path and filled a space that no one else can touch, in grief or in hope stands as one of the boldest and most realized albums of their career, a dense and meditative work that feels alive in the spaces between notes that many acts dare not enter. These tracks may move and sway with inconceivable dream logic, but they also make sense as the next step in BIG|BRAVE‘s career. They have always leaned into those dramatic, liminal spaces, but now they seem fully at home in the guitar noise void where uncertainty becomes an ethos, a constant companion pushing their art to places few dare to glimpse at, let alone linger.
