52 Albums That Shaped My Life - #41

Converge – Jane Doe

(Equal Vision, 2001)

Buy the album here

Living in Japan as a foreigner is a strange experience. Parts of your life become diluted to unrecognisable levels, other things become so concentrated and focused you can see them in new and wonderful ways, such as the phenomenon of the Japanese super tour. Bands who would sell out mid-sized venues independently throughout Europe and America find themselves having to combine their tours with other such bands to make ends meet or drum up enough buzz. Previously unimaginable line-ups for club gigs became a stirring reality and dizzying prospect for me while in Japan. The pinnacle of this was the confusingly named “Extreme The Dojo Vol. 11” tour in 2005 featuring Isis, Mastodon, and headliners Converge. All three bands had just released arguably their best ever albums months prior and fans were dying to see new material from Panopticon by Isis, Mastodon's Leviathan, and You Fail Me by Converge. But for me it was the first chance I'd had to see Converge live and my mind started grappling with what it would be like to experience the ferocity of Jane Doe live. The thin walls of my house barely protected the ears of my neighbours as I hit the “repeat” button on my stereo and prepared myself over and over for the frighteningly unhinged pit I expected for songs like “Homewrecker”.

Converge combine hardcore and punk attitude and aggression with the heaviness and technical prowess of extreme metal. It's a frightening concoction, and nowhere is that more clearly evidenced than in “Thaw” with its frantically stabbing main riff, caustic vocals, and gigantic grooves. The coldness of its title is reflected in the unfeeling nature of that malevolent riff, but the passion of Jacob Bannon's vocals, the fury of Ben Koller's drumming, and the big bass sound provide points of emotional connection in the ice storm of pain that is created. “Fault and Fracture” also accomplishes the incredible feat of scaring and welcoming the listener at the same time. Every riff angle and cymbal hit feels like glass is being shattered on your head, but there's always enough to grab hold of in the panic to make sure you don't lose consciousness. In “Heaven In Her Arms” it is the feeling of being irresistibly pulled in to the emotional death of which Bannon writes that creates fear for the listener. The riffs, time changes, drum fills, Nate Newton's rolling bass, and screams come at you from everywhere, giving you no time to defend yourself, and, just as you have given in to the inevitability that you won't survive this song, Kurt Ballou breaks it all down with one of the grooviest riffs on the entire album. It acts as an epitaph to the person who has metaphorically died “in her arms”, but also as glorious respite from the emotional and aural violence surrounding it.

Converge understand that their belligerent metalcore needs shaping and texturing, and we find that in the alt-hardcore of “Distance and Meaning”, and the hypnotic, bass-led, sludginess of “Hell to Pay”. Back to back it's a combination that will throw the new Converge listener way off track, before the vicious attack of “Homewrecker” drags them back in to the maelstrom. And, let's be honest, this is what Converge fans have come for, aggressive riffs, fast drumming, and barked vocals; exactly what they get on the Napalm Death-like opening of “The Broken Vow”, and on metalcore blueprint “Bitter and Then Some”. The latter is as perfectly concentrated a metallic hardcore track as you could hope to find. The main riff is frantic but with the full-bodied sound you might expect from Hatebreed, while the vocals are equally potent going with the riff or against it, and each drum fill is perfectly timed and delivered. And at 1:27 in duration, it shakes you up quickly and leaves you gasping. By contrast, title track and album closer, “Jane Doe” is a heavy, patient, epic, post-hardcore plea for the pain to be killed. It contextualises all of the violence that has preceded it, giving way to bare-chested honesty, hope, and even a sense of understanding. In fact, if you are seeking to understand who Converge are, simply listen to album opener “Concubine” and “Jane Doe”, read Bannon's beautiful, poetic lyrics, and listen again. You shall have all you need to know.

I was seeing a nice Japanese girl at the time of the “Extreme the Dojo” tour in 2005, and there was a bit of a language barrier. There's a sense that it's degrees harder to know and understand a person when you can't communicate easily or express yourself as you normally would, but we got on well. I told her about the gig and how excited I was to see all these bands together and this one album in particular. She asked to hear Jane Doe, so I simply hit “play”. After twenty seconds of “Concubine” she was gone. Out the door, in to her car, and, I assumed, ready to speed home. I convinced her to stay and watch some equally disturbing Japanese game show instead. Months later she confided to me that she had never been that scared by anything before, and spent most of that night wondering if I was an actual maniac. This is what Jane Doe does. It scares people. It makes people question their lovers' character and sanity. It makes people think about what they want from their lives. And for an album written about a relationship painfully deteriorating, it came really close to ending another.