Members Jae Matthews on vocals and production from Augustus Muller, the duo swings in less like a dynamic pair from the comics; fitting more to be the sleazy and smoke-filled backrooms.
While coming off their feature full-length film The Runner, Boy Harsher have these sadistic ties to synthwave that appear impenetrable from a distance. The introduction track so eloquently titled “Intro” is a foreboding mix of audio feedback from torn wires and buzzing amps.
The minute-and-a-half spent with “Intro” creates this uneasy tension forming around the foundation of the record. The following piece, “A Realness” transitions the eyes and ears to this realm of the extremely blackened and almost sightless club scene.
The whispered vocals from Matthews combine with the synth steps and light electronic bounce to the movement. Built and seemingly constructed for a sprawling metropolis flooded by red overtones and stuttering amounts of light that bleeds through the streets, Boy Harsher is prolific in setting and emotional form.
The title track of “Yr Body Is Nothing” has a simple one-two step on the snare and bass. The real star of the production here are the slight samplings of metallic snaps and reverb where the imagination becomes transfixed on speed.
Matthews describes, “What do you want from me, what can I give you? Your body’s naked, lights are red, you’re pouring sweat.” While the mostly leather and all-black fixtures continue to form around the ears, there are moments of intense light even with “Yr Body Is Nothing.”
The breakdown uses Matthews as this angelic reprieve through sonic affliction. Quickly, “Yr Body Is Nothing” becomes etched into the skull as the production from Muller has intensity without torturing the audience. It is the exact amount of give and take.
Later, pieces like “Morphine” almost resemble Talking Heads percussion stamps where the snares are built to spillover through the warping synth leads. Matthews simply breathes on the track and orchestrates this immense beauty and attractiveness to the mix.
Describing, “I wanna take you down, lies make it hurt. You, you want the same thing, I wanna make it sting.” When the instrumental ramps and becomes more based in the veins of sound, Matthews pushes on.
They illustrate, “She’s that morphine on my mind, she’s that morphine all the time. She’s that morphine when I’m coming down, she’s that morphine when I hit the ground.”
Final tracks begin to graze the ears like “Deep Well” which has one of the more rampant and well-orchestrated instrumentals of Yr Body Is Nothing. The drums especially here are a fantastic arrangement of authentic sounds that bleed into the nervous and paranoid synths. Muller is able to articulate as if they were an effigy to the production. Claps and bass stomps clash with each other like waves and before the instrumental comes to an end, Boy Harsher combine as this immensely attractive and almost unflawed example of production.
Warping, twisted, and finally contorting to the flesh, Yr Body Is Nothing both stimulates and punishes the audience through the record. 10 tracks leave a wake of power to follow, but also a worthy hecatomb to worship and praise through shadow-ridden days and nights.