NEON MEGACHURCH DISSOCIATION

The four members of Oklahoma City’s Chat Pile truly love movies. They’re encyclopedic when it comes to silver-screen fandom, and mentioned no fewer than a dozen films during the sweltering ly hot Saturday in June we spent together in Brooklyn. They had already visited two separate art-house theaters during their brief tour stop in New York. But the group—composed of singer Raygun Busch, guitarist Luther Manhole, bassist Stin, and drummer Captain Ron—decidedly does not like Ralph Bakshi’s infamous 1992 flop Cool World.

The quartet’s second full-length shares a title with the horned-up, hybrid animated/live-action feature, but it’s less homage and more red herring. The band, known for its sludgy dirges, hypnotic noise-rock anthems, and elegiac lyrics that one critic aptly described as “dystopian impressionism,” has expanded its artistic aperture in the two years since releasing their immediate cult-classic debut, God’s Country.

And when you expand your scope from bleak Americana tales about unhoused people and the nation’s opioid epidemic to songs referencing global calamities like the war in Gaza, oceans full of microplastics, and climate change, it makes sense that your second record’s title would reflect that scale. Country. World. “The next one will have to involve ‘Space,’” says Busch. Manhole chimes in to add that “‘The Event Horizon’ could work too.” In other words, the view from the moon’s exosphere, 300,000 miles above, will be just as troubling to a band as politically aware as Chat Pile. Ever hear about orbital trash?

Cool World reflects an expansion not only in subject matter but also sound. “We were less afraid of leaning into our influences a little more on this one,” the band collectively agrees. Inspiration touch points include everything from niche metal collectives like Sleepytime Gorilla Museum and Free Salamander Exhibit to first-wave nil-metal and even Oasis (Busch’s favorite band in his preteen years). As a result, the album feels more grandiose in its soundscapes but tighter in its structure. The late Steve Albini would have admired it—if he tolerated digital drum kits.

The band is proud of Cool World, particularly the writing, but they recognize they haven’t beat the sophomore-slump allegations quite yet. “There’s going to be a natural backlash because it’s our second album and there are more eyes on it,” says Stin. They were able to quit their day jobs after releasing God’s Country, but all four are deeply pragmatic when discussing the viability of being career musicians in their early 40s whose livelihoods rest on a “razor’s edge.” They’re not getting too cozy with their clout or sitting on any laurels. As Stin puts it, “This train is not going to last forever. People might think that we’re ‘successful’—and we are to a certain degree—but in terms of the music industry, we’re as low on the ladder as you can pretty much get.”

Throughout our conversation, the band vacillated between expressing gratitude for being able to focus on music full-time and underscoring anxiety that the ride might end at any moment—that being a popular independent band doesn’t correlate to stability by any means. One successful record doesn’t guarantee longevity or creature comforts, and therefore Cool World has higher stakes. It’s a sad truth when it comes to being professional artists in America.

And while the band is by no means self-pitying, the idea does tie back to the failures of the American dream—a core tenet their music explores. “The album is generally about the conditions we live in and the idea of if we are really free,” says Busch. He also notes that Cool World is best described by the paraphrased Voltaire quote “What is the price at which we eat sugar?” If the rage and gut-punching dismay of their latest LP is any indication, it turns out the answer is a bitter pill to swallow.

What are your touring essentials?

Luther Manhole: Weed [laughs].

Do you bring weed on every trip?

Manhole: Oh yeah, for sure.

Stin: I tend to be totally sober on the road because there’s too much to take care of, including driving duties. So it helps my anxiety if I’m levelheaded the whole time.

Manhole: But the other three of us definitely are being super soldiers, smoking all day.

Raygun Busch: I don’t need weed. I just love it. I love getting highhhhh and feeling good, ya know? [The band laughs.]

Stin: We’re not big partyers at all, so all of our stuff for survival on the road is super practical. I just always want to make sure that there’s a contingency plan for anything that could go wrong. I’d rather think ahead than have to pick up the shattered pieces of your reality when something goes awry.

Plus, Chat Pile is your full-time focus now. If I understand correctly, you all quit your day jobs in the past year or so. Big congrats.

Busch: Thank you. Yeah, it rocks.

Manhole: It helps living in one of the cheapest cities in the entire country. If we lived in New York or L.A., I don’t think I would be able to not have a day job. There’d maybe be more opportunities, but I would definitely have to also work in a bar.

I watched the film Cool World again last night because I thought it’d set the tone for hanging out with you guys. Obviously, the album name is a double entendre, but do you have a personal relationship with that movie?

Stin: It’s such a grimy movie.

Manhole: I think the movie fucking sucks, honestly. We all brainstorm titles for our projects, but it usually starts with a big list that Raygun provides. I put “Cool World" down on my list but then took it off ’cause it felt a little dumb. And then Raygun coincidentally had “Cool World" on his list too. We don’t really talk about the movie Cool World ever, though.

Why were those words on your mind?

Busch: Well, I was just trying to find a caption for the picture on the album cover. It’s this big fucking cross on Interstate 35.

Stin: The photo doesn’t do a whole lot of justice to how huge the cross is in real life. It’s overwhelmingly enormous. Then at night it’s got this neon framing in it. It’s a Life Church, which is part of a chain of churches.

Like something out of The Righteous Gemstones? Or Joel Osteen?

Busch: Yeah, it’s like that! But they’re also like, “Teens should come. It’s cool. We’re not the stuffy megachurch.”

Stin: What it really represents, though, is the corporate homogenization of religion. The Life Church is catered to a very consumer mindset, but it is also Baptist. I’m definitely speaking for myself here, but Cool World feels like such a prescient movie in the sense that it predicted how badly people want to fuck cartoons in the current age. [The band laughs.] I know that’s a stupid thing to say, but it’s something that I’ve noticed culturally. And it bothers me in my core because there’s this weird infantilizing energy to the idea.

Busch: Disassociating from humanity.

Stin: Yeah, it’s like we’re so disassociated from one another that now people’s sexual energy is focused on Space Jam and shit like that. It’s so fucking bizarre to me. And it seems like people lack the ability to have contact with real humans, but at the same time you’re sort of trapped in this childlike state of being.

Manhole: Honestly, the words “Cool World” together appealed to me. It has a humor edge to it, too.

The dissociation idea makes me think about how it’s harder to find community and meet people these days, and not even in a sexual context. Do you think it’s difficult to find a fan base or cultivate community with other bands in 2024?

Stin: If’s not that hard for us, but there are a few factors. First off, we’re a little bit older, and I think that we still remember what it was like pre-internet.

Busch: In a few months, only one member of Chat Pile will be in their 80s.

Stin: Plus, we are from the Midwest, where I feel like things are a little slower and easier. And I actually feel like we have the best relationships with bands that are from the Kansas City to Austin corridor.

Busch: You are right, though. We connect with people that are from the plains, basically. There’s just a vibe.

Stin: I always hear all these reports about how hard it is to make it—to be even a mid-tier popular band and make a living. And it is hard. It’s not like we’re raking in the dough. But when we play shows, people show up, and there does seem to be a community element.

Manhole: OKC is weird. It is a place where it’s cheaper to live, have some room to spread out, and focus on your art in that way. But beyond weed being legal, the local politics are some of the worst in the nation. New anti-abortion and anti-trans bills are getting passed all the time. I do like to defend Oklahoma sometimes, too, though. Living there makes this a little more possible for us. But it’s also a nightmare [laughs].

Stin: I think part of what has helped us get whatever popularity that we have is that coastal people think there’s this novelty element about Oklahoma and the Midwest regions.

You guys also have an approachable vibe. Even your Instagram feels inviting. It’s like, “Damn, these guys can hang despite making some of the most viscerally doomful and intense music.”

Stin: That’s who we are in real life, though. We are approachable. Sure, the music is bleak. But being a fan of metal and hardcore for as long as I have, people always want you to be these larger-than-life characters. They want you to actually be kind of scary or menacing. Do I have to sit and pretend, wave my candelabra around on stage, and do all this performative shit? Fuck that, man!

What were some of the bigger macro issues that you were homing in on for this record? What were the things on your mind while writing this one?

Busch: The whole time I was writing the lyrics for this record, I was waking up every day and seeing a little kid’s head explode—literally, on Instagram. The horrors that are happening in Gaza right now inform a lot of what I wrote. Then there are other songs like “Tape” and “Camcorder,” which I want to function as Midwestern horror short stories. For example, “Camcorder” is kind of about a snuff film.

Manhole: Raygun says “I Am Dog Now” is about the social contract.

Busch: Yeah, the idea of how man is more free, but everywhere he is in chains. I mean, there’s a lyric in there that I know people are going to take as a heroin reference: “Trash mouth, veins full of garbage.” But I’m talking about microplastics and stuff like that. The album is not just about America, but more generally about the conditions we live in and the idea of if we are really free.

Right, like the Voltaire quote in the liner notes: “What is the price at which we eat sugar?”

Busch: Exactly. Absolutely. We live in “the greatest country in the world" quote-unquote, but having a roof over your head is a privilege.

Stin: It’s like unless you actually are a millionaire, we all are essentially one class. I know there are people who are truly disenfranchised, I understand that. But if you look at the sort of macro lens of the problems of the world and in America, it’s like I’m much closer to being homeless than I am to being a millionaire.

I think of you guys as a successful band. I think in many ways you “made it.”

Manhole: Nothing lasts forever [laughs].

Stin: We’re living right on the thread.

Does it feel that way? Isn’t that scary?

Manhole: What if no one likes the album? What if no one likes the next album? I’m already thinking I should still maybe find some temporary work for when we’re not on tour, because you don’t know when the ride might end.

Stin: What if live music just isn’t a thing anymore? Or what if one of us dies in a car wreck? It’s over. And we’re still learning the cycles of how you get paid, even as a “successful band." You come to find out that two years after you put your “successful record" out, there’s no money. It all disappears.

Manhole: You have to put out the next one. You have to start touring again.

But have you noticed growth between record one and record two?

Stin: The truth is that bands basically have a 10-year shelf life of actually being sustainable. And then if they can weather the storm for another 10 years when they’re unpopular, then you’re in the clear and you can kind of live off festivals or a revival of interest. There’s going to come a time where Chat Pile is going to be as uncool as you could possibly imagine. It’s just how it works. It’s literally just the trend cycle.

Manhole: Right, then 10 years after the lull, we become a legacy act and we’re doing the God’s Country reunion. So in 20 years, we ll be playing on the water wastelands of America and I’ll be strapped to the front of the fucking Mad Max car playing guitar.

So there’s still a bit of anxiety about how the second record will be received?

Stin: I don’t worry about anybody hating it at all. It’s more like, will this be as popular as the last one? Or will it just be kind of this plateau that we’re stuck in forever? But either way, I’m really proud of what we’ve done. I love the record artistically. I think it’s some of our best writing. That’s always my guidepost with what we do. And usually if I’m happy with it, my instincts are right. It seems to translate to other people.

Manhole: We would never put anything out there that we think is embarrassing or cynical. I’d rather work back in an office again than put out music that I can’t stand behind. I do think we succeeded in a lot of ways on this one, though.

Busch: Every album you put out should be better than your last one. That should be the goal, at least.

Stin: We have more fans now than we did when God’s Country came out, so there’s going to be more eyes on it. And there’s going to be natural backlash because it’s our second album.

What would be an ideal fan reaction to this record?

Busch: “I love it! Here’s my money.” [The whole band laughs.]

Manhole: The worst thing for me would be just complete indifference.

Stin: For me, and it’s something that I still see every day regarding God’s Country, is people saying things along the lines of, “This album speaks for me in the way that art normally doesn’t. And these people understand who I am.” I could quit music right now having fulfilled any goal I ever wanted to achieve.

Manhole: I remember we were at this festival in the Netherlands and were having a conversation with label people where they asked us our goals. I was like, “This is the first time I've ever left North America and flown over the ocean in my life! I truly can’t tell you what another goal would be. I’ve literally achieved them already.” I’m really proud of the new record, but even if God’s Country was the only record we ever put out, I would’ve been happy with our career.

Stin: How many people in their 40s get to quit their day job and travel the world? Even if it only lasts a year or two, that’s fine. The fact that I get to do this right now is so blessed.

Busch: A guy could roll by and waste us all with a machine gun and it’d be like, “What a life we lived.”