This has been a long time coming – a little over a year to be more precise. I was so excited to see that Sandrider‘s Jon Weisnewski had a solo project out, and hearing it was even more exciting. Nuclear Dudes was invigorating and truly different from his past stuff with other bands, yet I could never find the time to review when he dropped albums for it last year in April or September. After being privileged enough to do a premiere for the project last month that showcased some serious sonic growth, I knew this time had to be different. I had to cover Boss Blades. So that’s exactly what I’m doing with my 500th article for Everything Is Noise.
Nuclear Dudes is a very personal thing for Weisnewski. His kid Cooper does the album art, all of which have a consistent and charming theme and look, and just about everything you hear on every song on every album is him only. That changes with Boss Blades and the addition of guest vocals from Botch‘s Dave Verellen and Dust Moth‘s Irene Barber, but that’s about it. Born out of our claustrophobic lockdown, Nuclear Dudes was a way for Weisnewski to vent and expand his reach beyond the confines of his bubble, and it’s only gotten better with every release.
There’s a weird calmness to Boss Blades that isn’t anywhere else on past projects, at least in this amount and with this quality. “Not Yours” from Bad at Sleep was a long-form (comparatively anyway) synth melt, a soundscape that gave us a glimpse into a steel-tinged future where Skynet won, so any tranquility is vaporized. That’s fine, it worked really well for that song. Gin & Panic did something similar with “Creatures of Eight”, a warbling ’80s montage of apocalyptic fervor, and “Pandemic Flanders”, warm desolation given ambient legs – spider legs. Boss Blades has a few tracks that dig so much deeper into this, though.
I’ve already talked about “Year 3” in good depth, so let’s look at “Obsolete Food”, the first of three seven-plus minute tracks that really, really lay on the atmosphere in big ways. While Nuclear Dudes was always adept at displaying and conveying scale, this was like going from a 2D side-scrolling video game to a AAA budget open-world (not an Ubisoft one, though, because fuck them motherfuckers). Synths and guitars run amok, and even the simplest changes in scale let the song breathe deeply. Honestly, toward the end I got Devin Townsend (current prog/new age-era) vibes, which is one of the highest compliments I can pay any artist doing anything remotely similar.
“Many Knives” is where the rocket takes the fuck off though. Featuring Irene Barber, who I’ve never heard before but gives me some Tina Root (Switchblade Symphony) or Adriana Falcón (Deer) vibes, this is Nuclear Dudes‘ longest song ever, and boy does every damn second count. From the eerie, lengthy intro build-up to its synth-laden edge break to the hair-raising final minutes, it’s a downright transcendental affair. The dual vocals of Weisnewski (who’s modulated to hell and back) and Barber play so well together, keeping the cybernetic roots of the project alive like a Duracell battery while Barber acts as the beating heart and floating soul of the music. This is easily one of the best songs of 2023 so far.
Of course the project didn’t forget its rowdy side, and along those lines, Boss Blades has some of the project’s best work yet as well. “Manifest Piss Tape” is one of the more melodic joints on this album, very guitar- and vocals-focused, and you can tell Weisnewski really put a ton of heart into this. The riffs and bass are so damn good, very resonate of stuff you’d hear on Sandrider, but the ass-beating drums and overall chaotic attitude ensure no mistakes are made as to their origin. “Eat Meth” is Nuclear Dudes at its most explosive, but still takes time to levy some reprieve in the form of a groovy center that melts like caramel when flanked by both its more intense ends. Hell, even the title track that opens the album is rife with arpeggiated synths to soundtrack a video game based on anxiety and enough instrumental weight to challenge heaviest sludge and post-metal bands out there. Dave Verellen’s vocal feature also rips as expected.
Boss Blades is just replete with moments of note, whether you like to bask in the dusty, dreary soundscapes or commit hundreds of dollars of property damage thrashing along to its more dangerous and serrated stretches of noise and vigor. And for all its purported darknesses and cold steel surroundings, it still carries a lambent quality, like the sun peaking through clouds of smoke and fog to warm your face. It feels frozen in time, yet breaks free of conventions like time and space. It simply is, and everyone I’ve had listen to it feels similarly, though perhaps less passionately – after all, I’m 800+ words deep into swooning over this album.
I really don’t know where Nuclear Dudes goes from here. It’s not that I think an insurmountable apex was reached with Boss Blades; it’s that it can go in literally any direction it chooses and probably still manage to surprise. With each passing album, Jon Weisnewski has been feeling out his potential, a silly thing to say about someone more than a decade into being a consummate musician, but he’s clearly tapping into a mana pool that allows his magic to take on new and exciting forms. No matter what, two things are for certain: any future albums will have simply enchanting cover art with all the whimsy of being a kid again, and the music videos will be unhinged exercises in how to have fun draped in MS Paint gonzo violence.
Artist photo by Maria Alcantara
