The Planet Cachexial

That title sounds sarcastic, but I mean it sincerely - Lori Bravo had a vision when she developed The Planet Cachexial. And yes, by this time, it is no longer "Nuclear Death" - Bravo pretty much single-handedly created this album. Or, put better, she is Nuclear Death. With some involvement from Steve Cowan on drums, Bravo developed The Planet Cachexial as a companion piece to her sci-fi novella Slumberblood. The novella was published and illustrated entirely by Bravo herself, following time spent in the Arizona desert "pulling a Philip K. Dick" (per an interview with Vomitose in 2008).

For a long time, it was nearly impossible to find a copy of The Planet Cachexial. In a pre-streaming world, the only way you could get this was through a highly-limited edition that was published on Nuclear Death's vanity label Cats Meow in 1996. (These versions also came with a copy of Slumberblood.) You could also contact Bravo directly, though she held the release pretty close to her heart. Only in the last few years has this album become anywhere close to accessible, with another limited release in 2018 and then a full-on official stream just last year. Bravo's reticence owes to how much she absolutely adores The Planet Cachexial. At least in interviews I've been able to pull, she's described this as her absolute favorite work of art throughout the entirety of Nuclear Death's run. It's her opus that explores the horrific tragedy so a part of Nuclear Death's early material in a death grip of experimental rock and cosmic science fiction.

Yeah, this isn't death metal anymore. All Creatures Great and Eaten retained vestiges of the deathgrind madness, but that album's last half showed what Nuclear Death would become. The weird spacy and avant-garde vibe of tracks like "Aunt Farm" and "A Dark Winter Psalm" showed where Nuclear Death was going. But that was four years ago - by far the longest stretch of time between Nuclear Death releases, especially given the first three LPs were released in three years. And the Nuclear Death of 1996 was in a far different space than the band who created the Bride of Insect debut LP in 1990.

The Planet Cachexial is like a hybrid of Skullflower-esque noise rock, jazz fusion, and dark ambient music. (The "jazz fusion" part is less brass or woodwind and more due to the improvisational aesthetic of Cowan's percussion, who had a background in jazz drumming.) Tracks are strongly guitar-driven, as opposed to the bassy influence that made up the other LPs (and was Bravo's main instrument for Nuclear Death's early career). Tracks rarely have vocals in any traditional sense; more so screams, protests, and wrings. Bravo tries to become the characters she depicts rather than tell a story - for this LP, the timbre of the music is the story. Tracks have multi-part titles despite their short runtime, and it's pretty easy to tell where "Ugly... Kill It!" transitions to "Children Must Die!" on the "Wardance" suite.

In this sense... The Planet Cachexial is actually fairly successful, listening appeal notwithstanding. "Raped by the Wiengod" certainly transitions to a part where Bravo shrieks in agony mixed with distressing amounts of ecstasy upon "The Conceivement of Slumberblood". Likewise, "Birthing of Slumberblood" incorporates pained screams that must have absolutely shredded Bravo's vocals in every which way, if she even cared. "Oh Father Death, Taketh Me!" is as mournful as you'd expect, and it's no doubt one of the album's best tracks. The Planet Cachexial definitely does its best to transport the listener into the twisted world/mind of its creator.

But that doesn't necessarily mean I enjoy the result. There are tons of extraordinary experimental rock albums out there, but I don't really think I care too much for these results. The avant-garde nature of The Planet Cachexial is part of its charm, and also a major part of why I can't say I enjoy listening to it even if I appreciate it top-down. "Grimalkin Be Spoiled" and "Into Zyrèlyà" are absolute messes, and they cannot be excused simply by the bizarre nature of the overall album. Frequently, the album's dementedness impedes the same development that makes "Raped by the Wiengod" so visceral. "Wardance" is a pretty big offender - yeah it has tribal drumming and some weird strums from Bravo, but it comes off as a rough sketch of an idea than something fully formed. That demo-esque quality shows up all over The Planet Cachexial, and I can't say it's in the LP's favor.

Despite this, I kind of respect what Bravo was going for here. This is "experimental" rock in the truest sense. The reader was meant to read Slumberblood while listening to the LP - and divorcing the listener from that context given its newfound accessibility will reduce that allure. I don't care to listen to it all that much, but damn if I can't acknowledge that Bravo was pushing Nuclear Death far beyond the reaches of rock (much less metal) and crafting her own visionary multimedia experience with the accompanying Slumberblood. Even if I'm not into the results on their own merits, I'm glad this exists. It's got thermonuclear heart.