From the incredibly weighted and daunting opening as the crush of sound blitzes the listener, Indian comes attacking on all fronts of harsh, almost industrial sound. With their full-length assault From All Purity, it is clear that they have little to no remorse for anyone who stands in their way.
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.
There is a lot of hurt that follows and creates this reality check of incoming danger to the listener. It was one of the first albums to recently be able to not just capture and almost trap the tight sound, but to also air the sound out and show two entirely different sides of a coin. At one point, Indian is almost melodic as they continue on with “The Impetus Bleeds” where the guitars and bass start to form a coherent rhythm section. That cohesion then suddenly combusts into flames as Indian destroys any sense of approachability.
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.