In Cahoots with Throat Piss
The Austin, TX sludge punks talk new album, saxophones, and the cancer of gentrification.
By Khagan Aslanov
Photo by Thomas Egan
- Published on
Texan punk has long been hallowed ground. For decades, the state has produced fire-breathing bands fuelled by Dust Bowl desolation, Red State politics, and a healthy disrespect for authority. Scratch Acid, the Dicks, Butthole Surfers, Meat Joy and countless others sit proudly—scornful and rotten—in the temple of the state’s punk history.
Enter Throat Piss. The Austin quartet have been tearing across the States with a genre-bending mash of punk, metal and B-horror kitsch. Sitting somewhere between the patient gnash of Melvins and the furious grindcore of Full of Hell, they even splice dissonant saxophone solos into their bone-shaking attack. RANGE caught up with them in their jam space ahead of the release of their first full-length, the bone-rattling Existence as a Grinding Gear.
Photo: Thomas Egan
In classic punk fashion, the members go by stage names more often than not: Nick, the seven-string guitarist, also answers to Piss Boy; Aaron the Sax Man runs an electrified saxophone through effects pedals; Whitney—aka Swamp Wench—provides the unearthly gut growls that have become Throat Piss’s calling card; and Joe, the drummer, is better known as Dad(ager) for handling all the booking, per diems and other adult components of running a band.
How a Southern sludge band ended up with a saxophonist is already part of Throat Piss lore. “I used to constantly say, ‘I swear to God, if another bassist asks if they can play for us, I’m going to lose it!’” Whitney laughs.
“We had this song with an extended bridge, and we were thinking that it’d be cool to add another instrument into the mix. Aaron would come out and play solos live, and people would go ape-shit,” adds Joe.
Aside from his sonic contributions, Aaron represents something else—not just for a band of leftists plying a creative trade in the heart of the South, but for the arts in general. An Air Force veteran, he’s become a bulwark against the casual right-wing tyranny that can permeate hardcore scenes.
“I never wanted to be in the army. I was just in a rough spot financially, and wanted money for school. The best part of my veteran status is having weight when confronting incongruent chuds on the scene. That’s a big mindfuck for them,” he chuckles.
Hot on the heels of their first Canadian show at Edmonton’s Purple City Festival, the band is now looking to Europe to grow its fanbase and exposure. For now, they’re keeping things self-contained.
“We pride ourselves on the fact that we’re self-funded. No agents, fully DIY. There are some labels we would like to be a part of at some point in the future – Flenser, Southern Lord or Sargent House,” says Joe. “Word of mouth goes a long way. Plus, pals like Bondbreakr have worked really hard to promote us as well,” adds Nick.
Photo: Adrian Benavides
Talking to an Austin band these days inevitably means talking about what the city once was and what it’s becoming. After two rounds of gentrification, the “blue dot in a sea of red” has been shaken at its core. Bands like Throat Piss feel it on the ground.
“Tech bros and the Joe Roganites have taken over the town. We are our state governor’s pet project of owning the libs. He has to cater to his increasingly erratic voter base to try and gain support. But as long as they maintain culture wars, they still get it. So yea, using donor money, they sent more police into Austin to beat up the liberals, the queers and all the people you don’t like,” Joe explains.
That wave of Republicanism and gerrymandering has hit artists where it hurts. Even the famed South by Southwest festival was recently revealed to partner with the US Army and private defense company RTX. As always, artists are peeling back and recalibrating to their DIY roots.
“There’s now an unofficial side of it all. Smaller venues, house shows, generator shows, what SXSW was supposed to be.” “Still with tightening restrictions, a lot of people just can’t survive here anymore, whether based on income, identity or else. And so creative people are leaving,” adds Aaron.
If this fresh hell feeds into Throat Piss’s musical fury, then at least listeners reap the benefits. Watch out for this awesomely loud, supremely vexed and uniquely talented band as they embark on touring their first full-length.
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