REVIEW: Truck Violence - The weathervane is my body

Punk rock and country seem entirely removed from each other, yet Montreal based TRUCK VIOLENCE have forged the two genres into opposing sides of the same coin with their emphatic second album The weathervane is my body. A sound that blurs the line between small-town folk music and forceful punk-rock, the music takes some inspiration from the band’s experiences of moving from picturesque rural zones - where guitarist/banjoist Paul Lecours and vocalist Karsyn Henderson single-handedly created a studio and radio station to encourage the scene in an already tiny town - to the urgency of Canada’s sprawling cities, discovering the expansive underground scene that furthered their musical fusions and personal beliefs.

Quickly finding their counterparts in bassist Chris Clegg and drummer Thomas Hart, their innovation and self-reliance has been utilised to the fullest on The weathervane is my body as they created and mixed their eclectic sound entirely in-house. A sentence you’d never expect to read, My dog would fuck the air starts the album with a guttural scream and jarring riffs that descend into sludgy grunge, Henderson shifting from hoarse yells to clean statements of “everyone is the same”, Clegg’s bass a rumbling constant throughout that gives the opener a near-primal feeling.

Jaundiced and reaching for a mother begins stripped back to a hook and a deep “I was born jaundiced”, before it ramps up into a cacophony of visceral screams, obliterating drums and borderline hardcore riffs. Compelled by Christy continues the sludge punk sound, battling through a dense, distorted bass line and Lecours’ simple yet evocative riffs and warring solos, as Henderson brings emotional breadth to a message of being knocked down but never being defeated, his screams giving way to a soulful vocal run as the track bleeds out into languid bass and guitar and a lonely banjo riff in the background.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IOvCHEeZKWA

House caught fire heads more toward the folk-country route with harmonised guitar and banjo riffs accompanying Henderson’s swooping vocals that have a distant, muffled effect to them as if he’s trying to reach the listener over a great divide through the words “thinking about it brings me down”, before it falls to a pleasing hook and spoken song over a yearning call beneath. New Jesus bursts back in with a powerfully driven drumbeat and rattling bassline, vengeful guitar riffs adding to the ferocity of the screams as it delivers a subtle yet scathing message against the rise of fascism and its orange leader and his self-belief of being the second coming of Jesus.

A snappy drum solo and low bass notes kick off Your name, it’s walking, bringing a hardcore punk sound that slows to a trudging pace for the breakdown and forces you to sit in the emotional screams before the riffs and beats race back in at an alarming speed, dropping abruptly into a slowed banjo and guitar medley that builds to turbulent screams of “I’m just trying to remember it, my own face”.

Stomach as a tower and the globules descending starts out as a slower entity with weighted bass riffs, the guitar and drums momentarily restrained before they all crash together in an abrasive crescendo, falling away to a slowed breakdown of Henderson rising in pitch and power as he goes from speaking to bellowing “they are not blemishes”. Folk sounds take the wheel for Gerard, be quiet with an emphasis on the banjo and guitar riffs that weave around each other in a melodic dance, melancholy hooks and bass ringing out in the background of their shortest yet most moving track on the album. “Wash yourself clean, clean of everything” is repeated throughout Kindly, wash yourself as the instruments fall into line with each other, the lyrics taking on new metaphorical meaning the longer you listen, the lyrics and rhythms gradually erupting into fast-paced medleys and molding into a cathartic end to a charged album.

Score: 7/10

The weathervane is my body will be released on 26th June 2026 via The Flenser/Mothland.

Words: Julia Stark

Photos: Truck Violence