Breech by Lick: A Wild Ride Through Industrial Chaos and Raw Energy
Alright, let’s talk about Breech by Lick—the 2007 album that feels like a gritty love letter to anyone who digs their music loud, raw, and unapologetically weird. This thing is a wild mash-up of electronic beats, industrial grit, and alternative rock vibes. It’s not perfect, but damn if it doesn’t leave an impression.
First off, shoutout to the team behind this beast: Alex Welz on vocals bringing that angsty edge, Jason McNinch shredding guitar like his life depends on it, and Brian Chrisman hammering out drums that feel like they’re punching you in the chest. And props to producers Lick and Martin Atkins for keeping things chaotic yet somehow cohesive. Released under Invisible Records (a label known for championing the strange and edgy), Breech is exactly what you’d expect from a project born in the US underground scene.
Now, onto the tracks. There are a LOT of songs here—seriously, it’s kind of overwhelming. But two tracks stood out to me enough that I couldn’t stop thinking about them after hitting replay.
"Jawbreaker" hits hard right outta the gate. The opening riff grabs you by the throat and doesn’t let go. It’s got this gnarly mix of industrial crunch and punk attitude that just screams rebellion. Welz’s vocals sound like he’s spitting venom, and honestly? That works. What makes “Jawbreaker” stick with me isn’t just the noise—it’s how it builds tension. You can practically hear the frustration boiling over, and when the chorus kicks in, it’s pure catharsis. If you’re into music that punches back, this one’s for you.
Then there’s “Sink/Sunk,” which… okay, yeah, it shows up more than once on the tracklist. But hear me out—it’s worth it. This song has layers. At first listen, it’s all doom and gloom with its haunting synths and slow-burn rhythm. But as it progresses, it morphs into something heavier, almost hypnotic. By the time it fully unravels, you’re left feeling like you’ve been through some kind of emotional wringer. Maybe that’s why they kept reworking it throughout the album—it’s messy, but in the best way possible.
The rest of the album? Honestly, it’s hit or miss. Some tracks blend together, while others feel like experiments that didn’t quite land. But that’s part of the charm, right? Breech isn’t trying to be polished; it’s trying to make you feel something. And whether it’s rage, sadness, or just straight-up confusion, it succeeds.
Here’s the thing about Breech: it’s not gonna be everyone’s cup of tea. Hell, it might not even be mine on most days. But every now and then, I find myself craving that raw energy, those moments where the music feels alive in all its imperfect glory. And when that happens, I throw this album on and let it rip.
Unexpected thought: Listening to Breech kinda feels like being stuck in a room with a bunch of broken machines that somehow still work. Messy, loud, and oddly beautiful.
