On their second full-length record, the Oklahoma City noise-rock band prove that angry music isn’t going anywhere.
Listening to Oklahoma City band Chat Pile is thrilling in the same way watching a particularly transgressive or unflinching horror movie is. Their music has a lot in common with the unsettling, avant-garde throat-singing of Inuit artist Tanya Tagaq: In the absence of an immediate narrative and overt lyrics in favor of fragmented, thematic collages of phrases and energies, we’re confronted with a subconscious, cellular sense of discomfort, one that compels our imagination to fill in some of the blanks. That can get scary.
This isn’t terribly marketable music, and yet Chat Pile are one of the hottest heavy American bands of this moment—and one of the more successful horror-movie-inspired noise-rock bands ever to emerge from the American plains. There are a few ways to understand Chat Pile’s success. It takes a lucky convergence of tastes and aesthetics to turn those influences into a project that can reach beyond a local scene. And in the years since forming in 2019, it’s become clear that the sludgy OKC band have formulated a winning combination of sledge-hammering riffs, hypnotic grooves, unnerving vocals, and even more unnerving lyrics.
After a couple chilling EPs, Chat Pile’s 2022 debut LP, God’s Country, broke the band around the world. Songs from that record have nearly 2 million streams on Spotify, and the headlining tour behind it featured sold-out shows in places they had never played before. “When we first started, people wouldn’t book us here in Oklahoma City,” says bassist Stin. “As soon as things started taking off more nationally, that’s when people started coming around locally.”
“It’s subtle, but these things that are around you all the time…. When you open up your eyes to them, it’s kind of horrifying.”—Stin
The band’s new full-length, Cool World, is a potent expansion of their realist sound. It’s also a demonstration that each member of Chat Pile, all of whom use pseudonyms in the project, is as important as the other. They are vocalist Raygun Busch, guitarist Luther Manhole, drummer Cap’n Ron, and Stin. (The latter two are brothers.) Lead single and opener “I Am Dog Now” starts with a cursed 6/8 riff before dipping to 5/4 as Busch’s bleeding-out-in-a-bear-trap wails enter. On “Funny Man,” another single, Manhole’s spidery, plinking verse riff (a clean-tone trick he plays across the record) is just one set piece in a twisted tableau of doom, metal, and grunge. Lead single “Masc” might be the record’s most compelling four minutes. Cap’n Ron’s delicious beat sets the scene, and Stin’s gristly, percussive bass locks in with it to sway into a pulsing nu-metal groove.
Stin thinks part of the band’s popularity is related to their ability to articulate, in both word and sound, this sociopolitical moment. “A lot of that is anxiety and dread and fear, and I think we’re quite literally speaking on those feelings that people have been feeling for quite a while now,” says Stin. “A lot of whatever popularity we’re experiencing is luck and being in the right place at the right time, but I think a part of that luck is moved along by our band being able to express the feelings a lot of people are having.”
“It’s not just us,” notes Manhole. “I feel like angry music is coming back.”
Initially, Stin and Manhole had the idea to start a “heavier” music project, something along the lines of Godflesh or the Jesus Lizard, with bits of hardcore and slam metal, too. (“Honestly, we’re trying to make sort of the most ignorant type of music that you could think of,” Stin jokes.) Raygun and Stin had talked for years about forming a band in the vein of Steve Albini’s Big Black, which meshed with the Albini-influenced noise rock that Stin and Manhole had been jamming. But they knew each other as friends for years before forming—a bond they say is more important than musical compatibility. “We trust each other’s taste and artistic vision,” says Stin. “It’s not like we all think identically. It helps when you are with people you’ve known forever and who share similar values, you understand their worldview. That really helps foster a safe place, artistically.”
Like the band’s other releases, Cool World was recorded in the shed behind Stin’s Oklahoma City house. They don’t use metronomes or excessive plugins—just a simple combination of Shure mics and a basic interface.
The band records (live and without a metronome, Manhole says) in a shed behind Stin’s house, which has been converted into their studio and jam space. That means they have all the latitude and time they need to make the art they want. “It’s cheaper for us to do it this way,” says Stin, “but it’s also how we’ve learned to work as a band.” This time, they asked Ben Greenberg from industrial-metal band Uniform to mix the LP, but they still recorded it all on their own—using just some Shure mics through a four-channel Scarlett interface into a Mac.
“So much mainstream rock music that you hear is also recorded on a laptop, but it’s so doused through all these plugins and quantizing and stuff that it’s not even human music anymore,” says Stin. “With us, I use so little effects. Even if you have all this junky consumer gear that you’re using to record your music, the trick is just try to make it sound as natural as you can.”
Aside from three weeks of lessons in seventh grade, Manhole learned guitar by ear and tabs. Unwound’s Justin Trosper and Gorguts’ Luc Lemay were major influences, alongside XTC’s Andy Partridge and Dave Gregory. When Manhole writes, it’s almost always about feel. “We write through improv,” he says. “Usually, I have a 10-second riff that I came up with at home. Sometimes it’s more of a rhythm. Maybe Stin has a bassline that he thought of. We’ll just play it for 30 minutes straight and do variations. I play through the sour notes and see what sounds cool, try different shapes that I like to do over things. I don’t know a lot of the actual chords that I’m playing, but I know shapes I like.”
Stin's Gear
Stin (left) and Manhole (right) keep things simple with their gear collections: They like clean, natural tones that they can tweak and distort for just the right sounds.
Photo by Bayley Hanes
Bass
- Peavey T-40
Amps
- Sunn Coliseum Slave (studio)
- Quilter Bass Block 802 (live)
- Trace Elliot 4x10 redline cab with horns
Effects
- Boss Tuner
- Tronographic Rusty Box
Strings & Picks
- Ernie Ball Slinky Cobalt (.060–.125) (5-string set without the .040 string)
- Ernie Ball Everlast Picks (.73 mm orange)
Stin takes all the photos for Chat Pile’s albums—another key element of the total artistic product. While they feel inexplicably horror-indebted, they’re simply photos of everyday sights around Oklahoma City which “portray the kind of decay and doom and gloom of living in the southern plains. Within that is kind of this horror. It’s subtle, but these things that are around you all the time… When you open up your eyes to them, it’s kind of horrifying.” Stin spotted the enormous cross on the cover of Cool World in the parking lot of a megachurch north of Oklahoma City. “It’s just kind of this testament to this capitalistic approach to religion and how, especially here in the Bible Belt, it dictates your life and every level politically and socially,” he explains.
Listening to Chat Pile can feel like being trapped in the heat and grease and cogs and pistons of a hulking, relentless machine. Maybe the scariest bit is that that’s not too far off from the truth.
Luther Manhole's Gear
Guitars
Music Man BFR Axis Super Sport Baritone
Peavey T-60 with an Aluminati Guitars aluminum neck
Amps
Fender Super Six (studio)
Ampeg V4 (studio)
Quilter Tone Block 202 (live)
Ampeg VT-22 cab
Ampeg 4x10 cab made from a gutted Ampeg VT-40 combo amp
Effects
TC Electronic Hall of Fame
Suhr Riot
Electro-Harmonix Memory Boy
TC Electronic PolyTune
Strings & Picks
Ernie Ball Mammoth Slinky (.012–.062)
Ernie Ball Everlast Picks (.73 mm orange)
Take in the mesmerizing, unsettling energy of Chat Pile’s shows via this capture of their entire set at Outbreak Fest on June 29, 2024 in Manchester, U.K.
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While this forgotten, oddball instrument was designed with multidextrous guitarists in mind, it never quite took off—making it a rare, vintage treasure.
At Fanny’s House of Music, you never know what strange or fascinating relics you might find. Guitorgan? Been there, sold that. A Hawaiian tremoloa fretless zither? We’ve had two.
Recently, the oddest of odd ducks strolled through Fanny’s front door. It looks like a Harmony Wedge lap steel that was thrown in the dryer to shrink a little bit. It has two flatwound bass strings, in reverse order from where you’d expect—the higher string is on the left side if you’re looking at the instrument’s face. Each string has its own fretting surface, bent at a 135-degree angle away from each other, and the frets are labeled with note names. A raised, thin strip of wood separates the strings from each other on the fretboard.
Oh, wait a moment. Did we say “fretboard?” We should have said “footboard.” Allow us to introduce you to the 1970s Mike Miller Foot Bass. That’s right—you play this adorable critter with your feet. The strings are tuned a fifth apart from each other. By setting the instrument on the ground and rocking your foot back and forth over the neck, you get a standard country root-fifth bass line—completely hands-free. Are you a guitar player? All you need is one of these puppies and a drum machine and, poof! You’re a whole band!
Along the “footboard” are markers for note names.
Thank goodness for the internet, which gave me access to the original promotional materials for the Foot Bass. Emblazoned with the all-caps header, “BE YOUR OWN BASS MAN,” its pamphlet extols the virtues of the Foot Bass. Describing it as “practically maintenance free,” it guarantees you’ll “amaze friends and audiences,” and “make extra MONEY.”
A brief meander through the United States Patent and Trademark website revealed the patent, whose filer was equally concerned with finances. “A currently popular form of entertainment is provided by an artist who both sings and accompanies himself on a guitar,” it reads, as if this hasn’t been a popular form of entertainment for a very long time. “The performance of such an artist may be enhanced by adding a bass accompaniment.... However, such an additional bass accompaniment ordinarily requires an extra artist for playing the bass and therefore represents an additional expense.” Sorry, bass players. Clearly, you all do nothing but cost us guitar players money.
“That’s right—you play this adorable critter with your feet.”
Be prepared to dig through your closet when you embark on your Foot Bass journey. If you start with your trusty Doc Martens, you’re in for a disappointing experience. Deep treads make for messy notes and poor contact with the strings. And while barefoot playing allows for more nimble, adventurous basslines, the lack of a rigid surface prevents the “simple and convenient” operation promised by the patent. What you need, as one Fanny’s employee described, are “church shoes”—something with a low profile and a flat sole.
This Mike Miller Foot Bass is from the 1970s, and has a patent for its design.
Even with the right footwear, playing the Foot Bass takes some getting used to. There’s a bit of foam under the pickup cover that mutes the strings when you’re not playing them, but you can still make a remarkable amount of clatter with this thing. It’s a subtle motion that works best, and it certainly takes practice to master it. Add in multiple chords or—be still, my heart—walking up from one chord to the next? Give yourself a couple weeks in the woodshed before you schedule your next show.
If you’re looking for something to watch tonight, there’s a documentary you can find on YouTube called Let Me Be Your Band. It covers the history of one-person bands, starting with blues pioneer Jesse “Lone Cat” Fuller and continuing up to the early 2000s with the careers of Hasil Adkins and Bob Log III, among others. It’s a touching portrayal of ingenuity and spunk, and an ode to owning your weirdness. Not a single person in Let Me Be Your Band had a Foot Bass, though. It’s high time the Foot Bass was celebrated for its cleverness and played by an enterprising solo act. It’s a bit like Cinderella’s glass slipper here at Fanny’s. We can’t wait to see who tries it on for a perfect fit.
The incendiary giant of psychedelic guitar concludes his 21-date world tour this weekend in New York City. In this photo essay, PG’s editorial director reports on the opening date of the sonic architect of Pink Floyd’s historic five-concert run at MSG.
NEW YORK CITY–There’s a low, sustained tone that David Gilmour extracts from his Stratocaster at the beginning of Pink Floyd’s “Sorrow.” It’s the intimidating growl of a robotic tiger–or, more realistically, a blend of low-string sustain, snarling overdrive from a Big Muff, and delay that saturates the air and seems to expand into every bit of open space. It’s almost overpowering in its intensity, but it is also deeply beautiful.
That tone, and so many of the other sounds that Gilmour has conjured in his 46 years of recording with Pink Floyd and as a solo artist, inspired me to leave Nashville to attend the first concert of Gilmour’s five-night stand at Madison Square Garden, on November 4. I’d been lucky enough to catch Gilmour’s tour supporting 1984’s About Face and two later Pink Floyd concerts, but the guitarist is 78 this year, so I felt that the 21 dates he’s playing in a mere four cities might be my last chance to be in the same room with all of his extraordinary tones. Plus, Pink Floyd, and especially Gilmour’s solo recordings and his brilliant Live at Pompeii concert film, was my wife, Laurie’s, and my refuge during the Covid lockdown. This was our opportunity to experience the sorcerer at work in one of his temples, where he and Pink Floyd first played in 1977.
Gilmour wields his Black Cat Strat, which he also played on Luck and Strange’s opener, “Black Cat,” in the studio.
Photo by Emma Wannie/MSGE
Was it worth the price of two concert tickets, flights, two nights in a Midtown hotel, and a subway ride? If you need to ask, it’s likely you’re not as familiar with Gilmour’s playing as I suggest that you should be. For guitarists, outside-the-box musical thinkers, and lovers of exceptional songwriting–and even concert lighting effects and live sound–this show was a perfect 10. Gilmour and his ensemble, including his daughter Romany, performed a well-chosen set of tunes by Pink Floyd and from Gilmour’s solo work, including his recent album Luck and Strange, which is more about composition than guitar exposition. Live, this was not the case. “Luck and Strange,” “A Single Spark,” and others from the album were expanded to include 6-string excursions that–in his signature style–took the lyrics as their inspiration and expanded their emotional architecture.
A close-up of Gilmour’s famed Workmate guitar, a 1955 Fender Esquire that once belonged to Seymour Duncan.
Photo by Emma Wannie/MSGE
Repeatedly, Gilmour displayed his ability to play the perfect parts, and especially solos, for each song. Some, of course, like “Time,” require sticking to text, but his expansions of “Breathe” and other numbers incorporated subtle improvisations dappled by pitch-changing, his emotive string bending, and numerous shifts in tone and phrasing that nonetheless always respected his unmistakable core sound. In Nashville, a frequent compliment is that a musician “always plays the perfect part.” For me, that’s a warning that I’m probably going to hear very professional and predictable playing all night long, and that’s usually boring. But Gilmour’s ear-opening sounds and phrases are constantly peppered with surprises–a hallmark of his characterful virtuosity. In the first of his Garden shows, he stepped outside the box while always respecting its contents, and it was a pleasure to hear him repeatedly practice that high art.
Guy Pratt remarked, while speaking to the audience before the show, that his first gig at MSG with Gilmour had been 37 years and one day earlier. Live, it was clear that Pratt is Gilmour’s right-hand man, as he set up cues for the other players.
Photo by Emma Wannie/MSGE
A pre-tour rumor was that Gilmour would not be playing any Pink Floyd numbers. That seemed unlikely, given his role as the composer and vocalist of so many of the band’s showcase songs. And, indeed, “Speak to Me,” “Breathe,” “Time,” “Marooned” (with its pitch-defying solo), “Wish You Were Here,” “High Hopes,” “Sorrow,” “A Great Day for Freedom,” “The Great Gig in the Sky,” “Coming Back to Life,” and “Comfortably Numb” were all present during the roughly two-and-a-half hours of music. What seemed remarkable throughout was not only the perfection of Gilmour’s playing but his ability to still hit every vocal high note with the same energy and accuracy of the original recordings, including his superb recreation of the scatting in “Wish You Were Here.”
Gilmour’s acoustic guitar, especially on “Wish You Were Here,” sparkled with clarity and articulation, and his scatting on that song proved that at 78 he can still summon the power and precision to hit the high vocal notes.
Photo by Emma Wannie/MSGE
“Wish You Were Here” was his first acoustic guitar excursion of the concert, and he and supporting guitarist Ben Worsley made the song a trip in the Wayback Machine, effortlessly conjuring the introduction’s vibrant appeal and deep emotionalism. Their acoustic instruments sounded crisp and resonant through the arena-sized PA, which should not have been surprising given Gilmour and Pink Floyd’s high standards for live sound. And all night, Gilmour’s vocals enjoyed the same clarity, making every lyric understandable, which is quite a feat for any large-hall show. The only quibble is that the drums echoed off the Garden’s back wall, which, given its 19,500 capacity, was on par.
Guy Pratt, David Gilmour, and Ben Worsley keeping the rock in arena rock. In addition to his Fender Jazz Bass, Pratt also played an Ernie Ball Music Man Stingray, and an upright. For electric guitar, Worsley slung a PRS S2 SSH.
Photo by Emma Wannie/MSGE
Romany Gilmour played a vital role in the show, with her voice navigating the Celtic-influenced melody of “Between Two Points,” from Luck and Strange, before joining the already formidable voices of Louise Marshall, and Charlie and Hattie Webb, in the band’s chorus. All four took turns singing lead on Dark Side of the Moon’s wordless masterpiece “The Great Gig in the Sky,” as Marshall played piano and Gilmour took one of his turns on the table-steel guitar.
A crowd’s-eye view, with lighting-enhanced stage fog. At right, just out of frame, is famed keyboardist Greg Phillinganes, who first joined Gilmour’s ensemble as part of the Rattle That Lock tour of Europe and appears in the Live in Pompeii concert film.
Photo by Emma Wannie/MSGE
“In Any Tongue,” from Gilmour’s 2014 album Rattle That Lock, was, of course, a musical highlight, ignited by that grizzly tone, but furthered by expressive, powerhouse solos from both Gilmour and Worsley. The song’s anti-war theme was enhanced by the same back-projected, heart-breaking video shown in 2016’s Live in Pompeii film, which conveys the idea that military violence spares neither the often-reluctant invaders nor the invaded. And last, of course, came “Comfortably Numb,” with Gilmour’s holy grail guitar solos, perfectly executed as he and the band played from behind an allusive wall of light. With their deep, idiosyncratic bends, rich, howling midrange, and his perfect, vibrato-laden bends, squealing harmonics, touch, and phrasing, these solos were the ultimate 6-string microphone drop.
Gilmour and his Black Cat Strat–partners for the concert’s closing number, “Comfortably Numb,” from Pink Floyd’s The Wall.
Photo by Emma Wannie/MSGE
If that was my last opportunity to hear Gilmour live, it’s understandable. He’s a legend who has earned his status through nearly a half-century of remarkable playing and composing. He has no need to create or perform on any terms beyond his own. I’m simply happy to have been able to bear witness, and to share the experience with you.
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On this episode of the 100 Guitarists podcast, we’re talking about our favorite Lukather tracks, from his best rhythm parts to his most rippin’ solos. And even though he spends most of his playing time with the biggest names, we’ve managed to call up a few deep cuts.
Steve Lukather is one of the most documented guitarists in the hit-making biz. He grew up as an L.A. teen with a crew of fellow musicians who would go on to make their livings at the top of the session scene. By the time Lukather and his pals formed Toto, they were already experienced chart-toppers. The band went on to success with hits including the rockin’ “Hold the Line,” breezy, bouncing “Rosanna,” and the timeless “Africa.”
As a session player, Lukather’s reign in the ’70s and ‘80s extended from Olivia Newton-John to Herbie Hancock to Michael Jackson. And alongside Michael McDonald—whose “I Keep Forgettin’ (Every Time You’re Near)” included Lukather’s distinctive rhythm riffage—Daryl Hall and John Oates, Kenny Loggins, Peter Cetera, and Christopher Cross (among many others) he may have earned the title of yacht rock’s number one guitar player.
On this episode of the 100 Guitarists podcast, we’re talking about our favorite Lukather tracks, from his best rhythm parts to his most rippin’ solos. And even though he spends most of his playing time with the biggest names, we’ve managed to call up a few deep cuts.