Release of the Day: Rectal Hygienics - Ultimate Purity

Album Art by Ted Sweeney

Have you ever kissed a loved one's tears at a moment of tenderness only to realize that, perversely, you enjoy their salty viscosity? And when you begin to kiss the rest of your cherished one's face where the trace of saltwater makes slick trails of pain, are you kissing to sooth or to lap up one more drop of that tantalizing, cascading cocktail?

Rectal Hygienics is a band that sees the base of human behavior, where a lingering hug is the symptom of an underlying sexual craving, a smile conceals a forked tongue, and all the cellar doors in the world hide abuse and hurt and anguish. Let's not kid ourselves either: these are realities. The boogeymen and ghosts that lurked in our childhood closets pale in comparison to some of the very real people who walk our streets every day. These are the characters who haunt Ultimate Purity, Rectal Hygienics' sophomore LP, out February 17 on Permanent Records.

The record begins with a sampled exposition detailing an aberration men in high-powered positions of prestige often have. Without explaining the corruption, Rectal Hygienics launch into their dirge-laden noise rock while vocalist Matt Ibarra, seemingly level-headed, begins speaking. Ultimate Purity features a band willing to experiment with the formula that made Brainbombs infamous. Matt is unsatisfied with harsh barks of distaste; perhaps more disturbingly, he's going to try and coax you into camaraderie. You might even find yourself singing the mantra "Rid all emotion" along with him during "Esteem." Music this irredeemable shouldn't be so catchy.

So why should we acknowledge something so charged with darkness?

Because the truth is that I find myself wondering why I shouldn't walk out of 7-Eleven without paying for my Coca-Cola or why I shouldn't stab the guy who cut me in line with my house key or what would happen if I pushed a stranger into oncoming traffic. Because there's a yin to every yang. And because we couldn't see in three dimensions without shadows. And because there are bullets not being fired in a gun range on the South side of Chicago. And because even though curiosity killed the cat, sometimes I spend minutes staring into a mirror trying to figure out what's staring back.