Survey On The Ant Hill by Boar: A Sonic Sledgehammer to the Ears
Alright, let’s get one thing straight—this album isn’t for everyone. If you’re into smooth jazz or mellow acoustic vibes, you might wanna sit this one out. But if your ears crave chaos and your soul thrives on raw energy, Survey On The Ant Hill by Boar is like a bucket of cold water dumped on your head while someone screams at you. And yeah, it feels kinda good.
Released in 2008 under Dark Winter Moon Recordings (a label that sounds like it came straight outta some haunted forest), this electronic beast dives deep into power electronics and noise—a genre combo that’s not exactly dinner party material but perfect for those late-night existential crises. Hailing from the US, Boar doesn’t mess around; they hit hard and fast, leaving no room for apologies.
Now, onto the tracks. The title track, “Survey On The Ant Hill,” kicks things off with a wall of sound so dense you’d think ants were building skyscrapers in your brain. It’s relentless, abrasive, and oddly hypnotic—all at once. There’s something about how the layers build up, almost suffocating you, before dropping into moments of eerie silence. Those pauses? They feel like catching your breath after being punched repeatedly. Not pleasant, sure, but weirdly satisfying.
Then there’s “Fulmination,” which I’ll never forget because, honestly, it sounds like an angry robot having a meltdown in a junkyard. The distorted synths buzz and screech like machinery gone rogue, while these low-end rumbles rumble beneath the surface, threatening to swallow everything whole. Every time I hear it, I imagine myself running through some dystopian wasteland, dodging sparks and metallic debris. It’s intense, man. Like, "turn-it-down-before-the-neighbors-call-the-cops" intense.
Tracks like “Whiplash” and “Bloodsuckers” keep the momentum going, each delivering their own brand of auditory assault. But honestly, after hearing the first two, my brain was already fried enough to appreciate the rest as background noise for smashing stuff in a video game.
Here’s the kicker though—listening to Survey On The Ant Hill feels less like entertainment and more like therapy. Like screaming into a void where the void screams back louder. Sure, it’s messy and chaotic, but maybe that’s what makes it so damn real. In a world full of polished playlists and algorithm-approved tunes, Boar reminds us that music can still be ugly—and sometimes, ugly is exactly what we need.
So, would I recommend this album? Depends. Do you want to challenge yourself, piss off your neighbors, or just embrace the madness for a bit? Then yeah, go ahead. Just don’t blame me when your cat hides under the couch for days.
Final thought: Listening to Boar feels like shaking hands with a live wire. You know it’s gonna hurt, but damn if it doesn’t leave you feeling alive.
