Profit Margin – “Profit Margin”
“So you think this is the one? This will be the band that will be the break through for us?” Mr. Bang queries me. He’s chomping on a thick cigar and blowing “O’s” towards the ceiling, oblivious to all the smoke alarms going off.
“Yes, sir. This is the band to do it,” I say. “I stake my life on it. If I was a vampire I’d put a wooden stake, medium rare, on my heart on it. This is the band that’ll put us over the top. This is the band that will make the kids forget Coldplay.”
“So this band is called Profit Margin,” Andy says, “Something that we have naught. Something, that to us, is as barren as the cobwebs on my old grandmothers…never mind that. What is that incessant ringing in my ears?”
“Hey, these guys are very abrasive, creative, full of energy, anger and spite; but don’t let that throw you. And yeah, they use tags like anarcho-punk/noise/hardcore. But don’t let that bother you. After we cover this band we’ll be able to corner the market on all the music websites. We’ll run all the indi, rap, country websites out of town! We will be known as the Walmart of music websites!”
“That sounds pretty good,” Mr. Bang says, crushing his cigar out on his forehead. “But will it make the young girls dance?”
“They’re already queuing up as we speak,” I say to him, “Now let’s put on their album and get down to their bad-ass sound.”
(At this point Slimedog and Bang put on party hats and prance around the room, doing dances they did in the seventies. While firemen rush outside in the hall.)
“Dis-ease” begins with three churning chords, burning holes in our skin and igniting immense energy to start pouring into our eardrums. The rhythm section saunters in, carefully, then echo-y vocals pop in only to be met by an angry, noise guitar break- recalling the great English band, Gang Of Four. Along with the vocals, that puts me in the mind of classic English punk which, I think, is a great kind of thought to have. The song pounds along melodically only to pause for the great, dissonant, dislocating guitar flaunting it’s disregard and disdain. Towards the end the track turns instrumental, gains speed and completes a really great tune.
“Fear Of Freedom” starts with the guitar whistling feedback while a grumbling, eighth note bass line sets an ominous groove. Soon the guitar lays crashing sheets of sound landing on top of your cranium and destroying your dining set, as well. A vocal halfway between English punk and hardcore grabs you by the throat and throttles you senseless. This leads to a part where the drums pummels you without mercy as the guitar screams above. The violent vocals zoom in again to lay to waste any fear that what we’ve just witnessed is another great song.
“What’s It For” arrives with some regal, sustained chords but once the vocals barge in we’re thrust into a scene that recalls panic and confusion, like people screaming in a fire. The singer is frothing at the mouth, the drums are recklessly knocking over rhythms while the guitar frets nervously along. Halfway through a chugging guitar hooks up with the solid bass while the drums are still hitting frantically and the singer screams wildly in amazement. This is an amazingly good tune, I like all the songs on this album but this one is my favorite.
“Cell Death” begins with some dark guitar chords and the bass answering with a single note and the drums being non-committal. When they congeal to one mass the guitar lays down some fierce broken chards of glass and the singer enter with near death metal sounds. The vocals are always met by the corrosive guitar. This is a short, but not too sweet, spikey assault on your ears and mind and all you hold dear on your body. And their decimation is not only needed- it’s desired, too.
Profit Margin is, I think, a great new band. Playing outside the margins of punk, metal and hardcore with their influences of noise and English punk but still delivering something that is potent, passionate and strong.
Mr. Bang’s back in his office and the firemen have left. He’s drinking brandy, smoking fat cigars- seeing big dreams in the smoke rings that fade above him into the fluorescent lights.
There ain’t no profit in what we do and someday, I’ll break it gently to him. And there’s no profit in what Profit Margin do or for the other hundred or so bands we write about. But there is something in there and in this album, as well. Something that is worth more than gold, is priceless so it can’t be sold.
And that’s the guts, passion and feelings that are not notes or sounds, words or letter, colors or design.
It something that you feel in the pit of your being, in your heart and the center of your soul.
Something indescribable but something you recognize as easily as your own face.
And that’s the best of you- reflecting out at you. Reflecting out at us, as this album does.
And that’s the best thing you can possess.
(Slimedog)
