Glassjaw Guides Us Through The Apocalyptic 'Material Control'

Around the turn of the millennium, hardcore had to reckon with its weirdness — and the weirdness of — becoming a viable and commercial force. At The Drive-In played the Late Show with David Letterman, Thursday's "Understanding In A Car Crash" was in regular rotation on MTV2 and The Blood Brothers' absolutely manic ... Burn, Piano Island, Burn was produced, by nü-metal diviner Ross Robinson, for a major label. At the time, this iteration of hardcore felt like a direct response to the bonehead rock of the late '90s (think Powerman 5000, Limp Bizkit); heavy music that stressed the dichotomy of melody and chaos — often with vocals alternating between a sing and scream and riffs twinkling and ravaging in turn. Turns out, it was just the mainstream catching up to the hard work and experimentation of the underground, as usual.

"I think that we sound different," Glassjaw vocalist Daryl Palumbo tells NPR. "I think we always sounded different. Music has gotten so heavy and large and cacophonous that, I think, we do heavy in a different way."

Palumbo ain't wrong on that last point. Where other post-hardcore bands of the era were taking notes from the instrumental excess of '70s prog-rock and the angular insanity of Drive Like Jehu, Glassjaw went for the oblong jugular of Faith No More and taking inspiration from fellow hometown heroes who never got much due outside Long Island, N.Y.

is a massive work, far heavier than anything in Glassjaw's catalog. That is due, in large part, to having produced the album themselves — "the record