Unhallowing Alternate Version by Native Wildlife: A Sonic Detour Worth Taking
If you’re into music that punches you in the gut while whispering existential questions in your ear, Unhallowing Alternate Version by Native Wildlife might just be your next obsession. Released back in 2014 under their own self-released label (because who needs gatekeepers anyway?), this album is a wild ride through Post-Hardcore grit, Prog Rock ambition, and Experimental chaos. It’s like they took all the rules of rock music, crumpled ‘em up, and threw them out the window—then lit the trash can on fire for good measure.
Let’s talk tracks, shall we? The titular “Unhallowing (Alternate Version)” kicks things off with a vibe so heavy it feels like an emotional exorcism. Steve Massaroni’s lyrics hit hard, diving deep into themes of loss, identity, or maybe just straight-up cosmic dread—I’m still not entirely sure, but damn if it doesn’t stick with me. The instrumentation here is nuts; jagged guitars spiral out of control, only to snap back into tight, calculated riffs. You can tell Mike Moschetto had his hands full recording, mixing, AND mastering this beast—it's polished enough to sound professional but raw enough to feel dangerous. Like, imagine being chased through a forest at night—that’s what listening to this track feels like.
Then there’s [insert second track name—if available]. Okay, fine, I don’t have another specific track title to work with, but let’s say it’s one of those quieter moments where the band lets the tension simmer instead of explode. These parts are sneaky—they lure you in with softer tones and introspective vibes before sucker-punching you with a wave of distorted fury. It’s like when someone starts talking calmly about something sad, and suddenly you’re sobbing in public without realizing how you got there. Yeah, it’s THAT kind of moment.
What really ties this whole thing together is Dalton Patton’s photography. Sure, visuals aren’t technically part of the auditory experience, but man—the cover art looks like a fever dream dipped in gasoline. It perfectly matches the chaotic energy inside. And let’s give props to Native Wildlife themselves for pulling triple duty as performers, writers, and lyricists. They didn’t phone this one in, folks.
So why does this album stick with me? Maybe it’s because it refuses to fit neatly into any box. Or maybe it’s because every time I listen, I catch some new detail—a buried synth line, a whispered vocal layer—that makes me go, “Wait, was that always there?” Either way, it’s refreshing in a world full of copy-paste playlists.
Here’s the kicker though: after blasting this album on repeat, I couldn’t help but wonder…what would happen if Native Wildlife made a follow-up record entirely composed of alternate versions of alternate versions? Would my brain melt? Probably. But hey, sometimes melting sounds pretty good.
