With an opening track simply titled “Rape”, an eight-minute barrage of bombarding percussive punches from Bill Bumgardner. The bass from Ron DeFries that shakes and vibrates the room with such a tenacity that the foundation feels as though it will collapse. And the hurtful on the ears vocal outputs from both Dylan O’Toole and Will Lindsay who also control the guitars on From All Purity.
It is with this overbearing sensibility that there comes a real attachment to the ugliness and pain behind music. “Rape” is highly emotional and has these aspects of almost broken backgrounds where the sudden walls of sound begin to fade and only the percussion is left to pick up the pieces. Indian creates this mental anguish behind their sound that begins to break and pound the sound onto the listener. It instills this weight of a billion tons that by the end of From All Purity, the level of relief that washes over feels earned and justified.
From All Purity burns and it burns with a heat of a thousand suns that can be felt through the entire near 40-minute journey. With an unrelenting force that never seems to fold, Indian has a sound that can only be described as something to wound, a sound that can only be felt and not quite heard. From the first contact Indian touches the listener and starts to really form a crushing blow that eventually comes in the form of an inevitable silence.
They move through the crowd as a plague, shocking and tormenting as they please. Indian is not for the faint of heart, and certainly not for the faint of the ears either.