Hate America by Sektion B & Control: A Sonic Middle Finger to the Status Quo
Alright, let’s talk about Hate America—the 2005 power electronics gut-punch from German duo Sektion B & Control. Released under L. White Records, this album is a raw, unfiltered blast of noise that feels like it crawled out of some industrial wasteland. If you’re into electronic music but haven’t dipped your toes into power electronics yet, this might just be the gateway drug—or the thing that scares you off forever.
First up, the title track “Hate America.” Yeah, they didn’t exactly reinvent subtlety with that one, did they? But damn if it doesn’t hit hard. The track kicks in with this relentless wall of distortion, like someone took an angle grinder to your eardrums and called it art. Vocals are spat out in clipped bursts—angry, distorted, almost unintelligible at times—but that’s kinda the point. It’s less about what’s being said and more about how it makes you feel. And trust me, it makes you feel pissed. Or exhilarated. Or both. There’s something hypnotic about its chaos; it grabs you by the throat and doesn’t let go until the last screech fades away.
Then there’s another standout (though I won’t name it because spoilers)—a track that sounds like a malfunctioning factory line got into a fight with a synthesizer. It starts slow, all brooding drones and ominous hums, before exploding into this frenetic mess of clashing beats and feedback loops. What sticks with me most is how unpredictable it feels—you think you’ve got a handle on where it’s going, then BAM, it flips the script entirely. Tracks like these remind me why I love power electronics: it’s not safe, it’s not polished, and it sure as hell isn’t here to hold your hand.
What really gets me about Hate America is how unapologetically abrasive it is. This isn’t background music for sipping lattes or zoning out during yoga. No, this is music for when you want to scream at the world—or maybe just scream at yourself. Listening to it feels like sticking your head inside a jet engine while someone yells political manifestos in your ear. In other words, it’s perfect.
But here’s the kicker: despite all the rage and noise, there’s a weird sense of catharsis to it. Maybe that’s why albums like this resonate so much—they channel frustration into something tangible, even beautiful in their own messed-up way. So yeah, give Hate America a spin if you’re ready to have your brain rewired. Just don’t blame me if your neighbors start complaining.
Oh, and one last thing: listening to this album made me realize my toaster probably has better sound quality than my old stereo. Go figure.
