Bleech 9:3 return with a stirring single, ‘Tourniquet’, to continue their impressive run of releases that has seen them summit the underground post-punk scene.
The Irish four piece’s signature sound is ingrained in their mastery of tension: shifts in tempo, swings between quiet and loud and a struggle between the distressing and warmer sides of their songs. ‘Tourniquet’ is no different, it might be their most poignant demonstration of this interplay so far.
Central to the track is the tension between loving and letting go. A tourniquet is a piece of medical equipment tied around a limb to restrict blood flow and here it becomes an image of containing a feeling that wants to pour out. The lyricism throughout the song plays with this idea of paling as a result of suppressing a feeling. Take the line, “Did you turn your roses blue?” The rose, a symbol of romance, turning to a cold blue mirrors the pallor of an arm squeezed too tightly by a tourniquet. Love, in the song, is drained of colour by the effort of containing it. That effort is Quinlan’s dilemma. He grapples with the knowledge that he is drawn to something potentially damaging, and with the irrepressible desire that keeps pulling him back to it. “Even if I’m wrong” concedes the possibility that love is misplaced but he commits anyway, this is reflected in the heavy alt-grunge instrumentation that pushes through emotional exposure.
It’s in this hardened delivery that we witness Bleech 9:3’s fatalistic attitude towards love, whether that be for a person or a substance or a feeling, an attitude that defiantly, boldly, accepts risk in order not to deny emotion. “All loss is the same thing. Ive got one less thing to lose.” If every loss is the same, we know what to expect of the pain it can bring. If we make the decision that this pain cannot be more than that of denying love, then there is no fear in loving without reservation. This is what makes the commitment in the line “even if I’m wrong” sound so self assured, the danger remains but the reason to fear it does not.
‘Tourniquet’ opens with Barry Quinlan’s wary whisper of words from a wound, immediately announcing the feeling of fatalism that is laced throughout this track. The contrast between Quinlan’s wary whisper and Duffy’s anthemic lead guitar instantly wrenches open two emotional registers at once. The whisper is spoken with a sense of secrecy and feels vulnerable, the conflict in the words themselves (“Even if I’m wrong, I’ll stay in love with you”) makes us feel like Quinlan is admitting something he shouldn’t be saying out loud. Then, the distinct but uncomplicated riff that ensues, pushed through distortion, suggests the opposite, something triumphant. The previous sense of intimacy is scaled up to turn the private experience of emotions public. The guitar turns the private admission into something braver, removing the fragility from the statement.
The gradual instrumental ascension in this track suggests that, metaphorically, the tourniquet is proving ineffective. As the song gets heavier, it becomes difficult to determine whether Quinlan is still in control or whether his love has overtaken his awareness of the risks and of what he knows is wrong. But as the anthemic guitar soars over wary whisper, the volume reads as conviction that has outgrown doubt. Perhaps the choice to persevere overcomes the fear that prompted the tourniquet in the first place.
But the vocals fall back to a whisper. As the track comes to a close the conviction feels less forthright and the whisper more calm than wary, an acceptance of a settled commitment. Whether this be a mutually agreed commitment with another person or an internal one to not let a love gone sour become self-destructive, the choice to persevere survives the noise and is more settled for it.
Photo by Taisei Sunakwa
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