Animated Violence Mild

Put simply, Animated Violence Mild is an excellent album which is imbued with righteous vitriol. This isn’t just the best Blanck Mass album to date, it’s also the best record that Power has been involved in, which really is saying something.

It is all bark, all bite and Power’s greatest and most consistent release under the Blanck Mass alias, bearing a message that is as crucial as it is necessary.

Blanck Mass’ style approaches speedcore in places, but Power ultimately creates music more nuanced and vivid than that genre label ever facilitated, and as such this album is highly recommended for all fans of experimental electronic music, as well as the noise and industrial side of things.

It’s another high point in an increasingly strong discography, one that demands more than just mild praise.

While fans of Power and Fuck Buttons in general will certainly feel at home here, as there’s plenty of abrasion and distortion to go around, Animated features, frankly, some of Power’s catchiest and most memorable compositions to date.

Power's work has always been timely but these eight tracks feel particularly representative of the current social and political moment in the western world. From the authoritarian stomp of opener "Death Drop" to the searing synth lead of closer "Wings of Hate," this album is pure, mechanized evil from start-to-finish.

There was plenty of belligerence and protest on 2017’s World Eater, an album that quite literally bared its teeth, and a track like ‘Wings Of Hate’ delivers exactly what you expect it to. But there’s exasperation and frustration here too, and it’s not quite the maximalist, terrifying work one might expect given the subject matter at hand. Personal grief also informed the year Power spent working on Animated Violence Mild, so following a more reflective, emotionally resonant path makes sense.

In many ways, Animated Violence Mild feels like the inevitable sequel to World Eater. Where that album used the full force of Power's music to rail against the world's injustices, this one reflects the resignation, frustration, and emotional overload of its time in its startling and moving tracks.

Not surprisingly, many of the highlights of his fourth solo album – a treatise on capitalism and loss – nod to Power’s better-known band.

His most cohesive, and delightful, to date.

Just like the grief it communicates, this album can’t be reduced to something linear, instead surprising you at every turn: one moment terrifying, the next, transcendent.

The past eight years have seen Blanck Mass creep forwards to slowly become one of the UK’s most exciting experimental producers. Animated Violence Mild is the pay-off, a fantastic, delirious soundtrack to our demise.

Animated Violence Mild is a powerful collection of music made in response to a phenomenon that is too pervasive to ignore in the world today, and one well worth the listen.

Alongside the general pixelated bombast, it also represents Power's most melodic work. [Sep 2019, p.23]

If previous Blanck Mass albums were each a step out from the shadow of Fuck Buttons, Animated Violence Mild shows that he’s outgrown the comparison altogether.

Often, personal grief can choke perspectives, limiting lamentation to inward battles. However, personal grief is always attached to broader consequences, and Animated Violence Mild is a project that confronts it all.

Some of the work Power did as one half of Fuck Buttons matched the grandiosity of this record's melodies, but did so with emotional resonance. But with the sense of plastic emptiness so ever-present, Animated Violence Mild too directly mirrors the very thing it's critiquing.

Respite is infrequent with Blanck Mass, but when it arrives, its effects are heightened. [Sep 2019, p.91]