Decahedron - Disconnection Imminent

Decahedron - Disconnection Imminent


In the aftermath of Frodus, its members went on to a number of other projects. Nathan Burke, Frodus’ latest in a long line of bassists, went on to form The Out Circuit, where he still resides today. Shelby Cinca formed steampunk band The Cassettes, moving in a number of more experimental directions past even what was hinted with And We Washed Our Weapons in the Sea, as well as playing briefly in the band Mancake, alongside Frodus drummer Jason Hamacher. But eventually, Cinca went back to his post-hardcore roots, again enlisting Hamacher on drums as well as former Fugazi bassist Joe Lally, and together they created Decahedron, a socially conscious outfit that lived by the mantra of “Delete False Culture”. Decahedron only released one album, Disconnection Imminent, but it signalled a spiritual return to the protest-punk of Frodus, as well as a musical progression that combined the angry, dissonant hardcore they were known for, with Cinca’s growing experimentation with ambience and electronics (a couple years afterward, Cinca would put out a solo album based entirely around this concept). The result was an original and unsettling album, which contrasted sci-fi bleakness with a very real and disconcerting look at modern society.


As mentioned above, the music feels like a noticeable progression from And We Washed Our Weapons in the Sea-era Frodus; by which I mean you can make comparisons between Decahedron and Frodus easily (and I have), as the underlying form seems obviously influenced by Cinca and Hamacher’s former project, but there is also a natural evolution on display here. As such, Decahedron feels like a spiritual successor to Frodus, and not just in the phylogeny of the band itself. The angular raspiness of the guitar is more than familiar to the listener, and the way in which the smoothness of the bass plays off the guitar in intertwining fashions is again exhibited, but the way electronics have been integrated keeps any sense of derivativeness at bay. Interludes such as “Dislocation” showcase the way in which the band manages to insert abject dissonance into their tracks, and while this may become grating within the parameters of an instrumental song, it works well in giving an even greater sense of desolation to calm, brooding epics like “Every City is a Prison”. Indeed, feedback is used constantly throughout this album, as the ominous cries of what sounds like industrial machinery audibly rusting on the spot are injected and pumped into the backgrounds for mood. This works to varying degrees in terms of listenability, but what can’t be denied is how it communicates the isolation of the music in a very direct way.


As far as the vocals go, Cinca remains more austere than usual here, generally finding himself content to passively croon along to the despondent flow of the music, but he still has his moments to shine. The chorus of “Burning Lights” is a definite highlight here; after a very menacing passage leads to quiet, Cinca’s obstructed screams of “Drowning into yourself/turning against your will to live” manage to come off as fierce as ever. “Lt. Col. Questions Himself” provides another prominent example of Cinca’s ragged intensity, shouting his lines just as loudly as the music can drown them out. The way Cinca screams so wholeheartedly and forcefully has always been a highlight of Frodus for me, as he always conveys an emotional passion and intensity that can rarely be matched, making it something of a shame that he doesn’t do it more often here. The result is an album that is less focused on anger (despite the virulence of the lyrics), and more focused on detachment. A great example of this is in “No Carrier”; when Cinca screams about disconnection during the chorus, the message is transmitted with all the accuracy of a drive-thru order, cutting out and obscuring the words from full recognition.

All in all, Disconnection Imminent is a strongly atmospheric post-hardcore album that, while not quite matching the greatness of Frodus’ work before it, manages to impress. Experimental without being impenetrable, smooth while still keeping an edge to it, Disconnection Imminent remains a gem in the catalogue of three men with much bigger claims to fame.

DELETE: False_Culture

The Conglomerate's Tendrils Are Spread Throughout Many Sinister Soups

Also: they know you. And they think that you and they should meet.




This is either delightfully absurd, or decidedly retarded, depending on how you look at it. I fall into the former group.

Frodus - And We Washed Our Weapons in the Sea

Frodus - And We Washed Our Weapons in the Sea


Frodus was formed in 1993 and dissembled in 1999, issuing two full-length albums and a number of other releases while together and recording a third just before breaking up. Their exceptional blend of mathy, D.C.-style post-hardcore has earned them praise from, and given inspiration to countless followers. The band reached their pinnacle on what was regrettably their third and last album, the post-humous And We Washed Our Weapons in the Sea, experimenting with a number of different esthetics to add to the noisy, jumpy punk (affectionately deemed “spazzcore”) they originated with.


Like nearly all D.C. post-hardcore bands that came about in the 90’s, Frodus takes a number of cues from the godfathers of post-hardcore themselves, Fugazi. Fugazi helped shape the landscape for post-hardcore with their aggressive, discordant sound, as well as their desire to experiment beyond the traditional means and limits set out for them, two things Frodus had going for them as well. An analogy between the two wouldn’t be hard to follow; both D.C. bands, both playing styles of angular, occasionally abrasive post-hardcore, and both considered to be among the best at what they do.


As the 90’s went on, Fugazi became more and more experimental, and while this lead to them gaining a reputation as some of the premier pioneers in underground music, it also involved them losing much of the aggressiveness that made them great in the first place. Whether or not this was positive is irrelevant; the point is this pattern of development was not theirs alone. Near the end of their days, Frodus was going down a similar path, wherein they wanted to experiment with the boundaries of their already developed sound. The result is less chaotic and far more polished than, say, F-Letter, and has a feeling of maturation when compared to their previous releases, not unlike comparing The Argument to 13 Songs.

And this is where the analogy ends. Because unlike Fugazi, Frodus do not seem even the slightest bit tamed on And We Washed Our Weapons in the Sea, remaining just as angry and as vigilant against the mainstream culture that spawned them as ever. Sure, there’s the occasional ambient interlude, suggesting that the band just didn’t have anything left after writing this, but don’t let that fool you; cries like “Stupid human scum!” are only the most literal examples on an album full of cynicism and frustration. The aggression is most palpable on tracks like “The Awesome Machine” and “There Will Be No More Scum”, wherein the coarse power of the guitar and the screams of singer Shelby Cinca lend an incredible amount of intensity to the proceedings.


Yet there is a certain wistfulness to a lot of the songs as well; while the lyrics are as angry as ever, managing to be both veiled and direct in their vitriol, they also convey a very defeatist approach toward the topics taken on. For example, in “The Earth Isn’t Humming”, as the minimalism of the bass combines with Shelby’s resigned cries of “another one must fall down”, the listener is greeted with an overwhelming sense of despondence. This feeling of hopelessness engulfs much of the album, whether Frodus is working toward a frenzied, noisily cathartic climax, or constructing a slow, melodic instrumental piece. The contrast between the angrier and more aggressive songs, and that of the more despairing and gloomy songs do a great deal to suggest a level of exhaustion in the band, as if they just couldn’t keep up the same level of defiance anymore. This weariness also finds itself coming into play in the rest of their music too; the angular, mathiness of the band which could have previously been likened to a San Diego-style band like Drive Like Jehu, now sounds more relaxed, almost to the point of post-rock territory.

With their last album, Frodus created the monument for which, for better or for worse, they will be remembered for. And We Washed Our Weapons in the Sea is a triumph of subversive, experimental music which manages to combine the sensibilities of math rock with the volatility of hardcore and come away a rousing success. Gloomy and ominous, it takes the bands’ pessimistic, wearied take on the modern world and translates it seamlessly into audio format. There may be more famous bands to come out of D.C. in the past 15 years, but there are few better.

Frodus Conglomerate Intl. thanks you for listening