Noise Rock veterans Today Is The Day release their twelfth studio LP, Never Give In, on their own Supernova Records. Your adoring scribe, Sean Millard, waxes (too) lyrical on the importance of the band, their uncompromising art and the predictable genius of this latest, long awaited long player.

Let’s begin by setting the scene. It’s 1993. A vintage year for exciting US independent releases, and I was obsessed. I wrote an oily little fanzine dedicated to the ‘scene’. I had my own (criminally neglected) college radio show, named after the first Melvins LP. The music was all that mattered to me.

There was a continual flow of thrilling releases from labels like Sub Pop, Amphetamine Reptile, Touch and Go, Homestead, SST, Trance Syndicate and Headhunter. It was a time ripe with new and exciting ‘underground’ music, especially from across that thar pond. For an evangelist and compulsive choon-consumer like me, you couldn’t help but become bloated on the glorious fruit that was falling from the post-hardcore tree on a seemingly daily basis. Even if much of it was temporarily “graduating” to the ‘overground’ on the back of Nevermind.

Houdini, Sexy Pee Story, Bent Pages, Lash, Drive Like Jehu, Pull, Toast, Four, In On The Killtaker, Gentlemen, Inhaler, Independent Worm Saloon… what a time to be alive!

I remember very clearly, amidst that dizzying, youthful, vibrant and rapid-fire period, a singular moment of focused calm. I received a promo copy of the first Today Is The Day LP, Supernova, from AmRep’s UK Promotions Company. Its impact was, let’s say, substantial.

Supernova was different to anything else I’d ever heard. Today Is The Day (from here on in, TITD) were bringing a more distorted, metallic edge to the noise-rock proceedings I was revelling in. The album was an entirely compelling blend of grunge/post-hardcore/metal, sound-bitten samples and depressive discordance. It leapt from the speakers and punched me in the face. It’s how I lost my front teeth. It was hardcore. In the truest sense. And it was entirely NEW. I still couldn’t tell you what direction it came from. If you play that debut again today, the bite and originality are still just as sharp as ever. It is still unique, and it is still incredible.

As later releases developed their sound, TITD began delivering an ever-more extreme interpretation of what their “genre” represented. Note: the speech marks indicate the truth of the matter, that TITD are entirely genre-less, but for ease of communication, we’re establishing them with their label peers of the time. With a couple more releases on AmRep, then Relapse, and then their own Supernova Records, as well as one on Southern Lord and others, their career has been consistent, challenging and always engaging. They don’t release shit albums. Actual fact, IRL.

Their last LP, No Good To Anyone, came out on The End Records in 2020 and it was great. Essentially ignored by the world for no good reason whatsoever (apart from the pandemic), it’s a punching and powerful record that brings in more melodic elements than (perhaps) have been present in previous outings. Check it out. In fact, if you’ve got this far, do yourself a huge favour and revisit, reclaim or unearth the band’s entire back catalogue. You can’t go wrong. But start at the beginning, just for fun, and move on from there.

Witness the springing from the Avant-garde to Outlaw Country via Grindcore and Noise between albums, tracks and even between bars of music. It’s an unpredictable adventure to embark upon. The only real way to sum TITD up in a single word is to call them experimental. It’s what they do, and they do it without consideration for anything but that specific moment in time. It’s a beautiful and liberating thing to behold.

So, it’s been five long years since we last heard the shrill and distorted angst of erstwhile frontman, writer and articulate godhead Steve Austin. No. Not that Steve Austin. Or that one. *sigh*

It’s safe to say I’m excited. It’s also safe to say that TITD are proudly uncompromising, uneasy listening. They stay true to their vision. They have no intention of creating palatable music, because their motivations are some of the most negative aspects of humanity. Suicidal contemplation. Loneliness, despair, disgust and disappointment. If you’re new to Steve Austin’s worldview, don’t expect their records to be anywhere near conventionally approachable. If you’re up for the challenge, though, the reward is a lifelong love affair.

With all that said and done, what’s the deal with Never Give In?

Never Give In by TODAY IS THE DAY

It’s their twelfth album and a tight-as-fuck 46 minutes long. It’s released on Steve’s own Supernova Records and comprises of nine tracks that feel conceptually linked. Much of it was written over lock-down, in the wake of a tour that was cancelled because of the pandemic. Not that this should be categorised as a Covid Album particularly, but the isolation, desperation, paranoia and fiscal nervousness of that situation clearly formed a baseline for the album to be built upon.

Those emotive triggers are introduced with Divide and Conquer. It is autobiography, fantasised and delivered in arpeggiated, chiming and grinding sludge of the highest calibre. Austin cleanly and calmly croons his way soulfully against the monstrously heavy riffage, the trademark screaming and distorted multi-tracked vocals lower in the mix than usual.

It exposes a melodicism that is addictive and satisfying: “I live alone in the woods. It keeps me from killing. Every day is a lifetime here; everything in ruins. Hide your face, hide your hands, hide your name, as best you can… Don’t you try to save me. I can save myself.” It’s brooding and frightening.

The arpeggiating Moog is rolled out again on I Got Nothing. The bright, almost poppy stuttering key chords and Colin Fecknall’s marching drums are entirely at odds with the self-loathing of Austin’s words. The only connection between the two is the deliberate clockwork monotony of the music and the rising chorus that brings the distorted vocals to the fore. When Austin screams: “Nothing to lose, nothing but pain. Running away with nowhere to go. I Got Nothing.”, you believe him.

The horrible discordant main riff of Intentional Psychological Warfare recalls earlier journeys into awkward guitar scales and dissonance. The disconnection threatens to make everything in the song fall apart chaotically, until it all magically pulls back together again, tight as Dad’s Wallet, for the driving signature phrase “I can’t feel it when it rains”.

The delivery of that line alone drives the track directly into each sulcus of your cerebral cortex, flooding those festering and forgotten channels with relatable tones of loss and grim despair. The power of sadness doesn’t curtail itself. It *ahem* prevails.

The title track, Never Give In, begins with gently picked clean chords that somehow recall In Utero’s most sombre moments. I know. I’m surprised by my own reference, too. TITD are not a band I would normally mention in the same breath as N*****a. They are worlds apart in so many ways, but Never Give In draws me into that headspace, even if it is a wholly corrupted Americana-influenced version of it. The song is a study of depressed self-reflection. Literally. Never Give In is so articulately low between detonating explosions of futility in its musicality that it can’t help but recall cornerstones of world-famous guitar-driven misery.

It’s a centre-piece and an oddball anthem that demands repeat plays. There are some thrown-away background guitar chugs that define underhand, off-the-cuff brilliance, along with a (shock) emotional surge of a guitar solo. Where did that come from? “Live past the pain”, indeed.

Secret Police starts with nauseating backwards spooling sounds and a bugling trumpet(!) that draws me immediately to Cows. Even though there’s nothing else in the track that particularly recalls AmRep’s stalwart madcap standard bearers. I love that Mac Gollehon’s squalling and incongruous brass brings a juxtaposing levity to the uncharacteristically shuffling (and then torrential) drums and gnarly riffing. And as the tape slows to a standstill, the track is over, almost before it’s begun.

The awkward silence bleeds into the dissonant pedalling lead riff of Psychic Wound. The verses drop down into a clean, drawling, spoken word delivery over clattering high hats and the roiling bass of Tom Jack, before the entire band stomps on their pedals at once, for a chorus that spits the song’s title out through hissing distortion, with all the bile of Satan’s own acid reflux. Give that man a (Cherry flavoured) antacid.

Halfway through, the song’s simple structure gives way to what feels like a totally different composition. It catches your ears in a pleasantly odd way. It reminds you of the progressive elements of TITD that are often lost in the noise. But it is integral to their writing. It keeps you on your toes.

The Choice Is Yours spearheads the three-song run towards the finish line with coherent and catchy(!) riffing over the top of annihilating drums. As Austin drawls “I am the storm”, self-flagellating, guilt-ridden and desperate, the song becomes the most “commercial” offering of the album so far. If you love their approachable Pain Is A Warning LP from 2011 as much as I do, you’ll adore this one. The Choice Is Yours is heavy as fuck but delivered in a way that’s uber-rewarding and a direct result of its perfect position in the album’s flow.

Which suggests that now is a good time to mention the album’s exemplary sequencing. The attention paid to the album’s musical storytelling sets the LP apart from lesser offerings. The entire package is so well-considered.

You can tell Austin’s work as a producer and as an engineer in his own Austin Enterprises studio, in Maine, has created a natural understanding for what it takes to put a really satisfying record together.

But wait. Stop press! WTF is this? Penultimate track, Pain and Frustration, comes across like an overdosing Sly and the Family Stone, wretched, wrecked and left to turn blue.  Covered in puke, piss and pus in a gutter; a marbled rivulet of blood and semen running down to the pavement from its shit-stained pants.

Yes. It’s THAT dark, and entirely out of nowhere. The funking bass and completely eccentric, jazzy, off-key… erm… keys – that seem to fade in and out from the murk is a new look for TITD. It’s taken me a few listens to get my head around it. It feels totally mental and at odds with any preconceptions that you might have of TITD. Or funk, for that matter. But surprise (not surprised) to be surprised.

And it is entirely visceral in its own unexpected way. I’ve never imagined Steve Austin as a satanic Shaft but now I can’t shake it. That’s a vision that’s going to fester. Those cloven hooves know how to groove. They’re groovy hooves.

As if to calm your head from spinning and reset your world again, the album finishes with the appropriately titled The Cleansing. It’s a clean-picked ballad and, perhaps, a sneaky peak at the type of material Austin might be developing for his forthcoming solo country project.

If so, it will be plumbing new levels of beautiful darkness. The song conjures a lonely vision of a weak, drunk and exiled Hank Williams, bleeding out from a gunshot belly wound in a craggy desert canyon a hundred miles from home. It’s all last regrets, consolations and goodbyes. “The last time you left me, I lost myself”. The quiet TITD hasn’t sounded this dark since the title track of Temple Of The Morning Star. ‘Nuff Said.

What a way to end what could be Steve Austin’s magnum opus. Is it possible? Up to this point, conventional wisdom holds 1997’s aforementioned Temple Of The Morning Star as the fan-favourite in a catalogue of unimpeachable quality. And it’s hard to disagree. Although I have always had a soft spot for Sadness Will Prevail. But you know what? The sheer power, musicality, passion and production of Never Give In has completely blown me away. The coveted top spot has been usurped.

Today Is The Day have delivered a career-best in Never Give In. It’s a mature, enthralling and, well – immaculate – implementation of sincere multidimensional horror. There is a profundity to it that I just haven’t heard in much else, for what seems like the longest time. Certainly not this year. Never Give In is both their lightest release (musically) and one of their their heaviest releases (lyrically) and guess what? It’s just the first half of a double concept album! The second platter arrives early next year! OMFG! I know! Mother! Hold me!

My vinyl edition is a swanky black/grey/smoky variant that I pre-ordered direct from Supernova, at great expense (thanks, UPS) and it sounds just as vital as it looks. The beef is beefy. The fluff is fluffy. There is so much definition and detail in the mix that it is noticeably more defined than the digital version, which I also bought.

Will it bring new people to the TITD altar? Probably not. I wish it would. It really should – because it’s probably the most accessible LP they’ve written. Readers should note that that doesn’t mean it’s *actually* accessible, but it does mean it’s got the potential to broaden the band’s reach, which I’d love to see. There’s so much that the uninitiated are missing out on. It feels wasteful for them to not be here with us.

To conclude, I want to acknowledge something important. Today Is The Day is art, in the truest definition of the word. It means something. The writing pushes a consistent message that refuses to compromise in the face of commercial reward. Watch the brilliant documentary on Steve: The Man Who Loves To Hurt Himself, for evidence. You can find it online if you look hard enough.

Great art doesn’t care what you think, but it does need to be supported to survive. Because it’s rapidly disappearing before our eyes. It’s being reduced to ‘content’; an insubstantial trade off for the convenience and easy access of everyone, regardless of their artistic potential. But not everyone is capable of being (or deserves to brand themselves as) an artist. I’m a snob. Sue me.

And here’s the thing; art isn’t supposed to be easily digested. It’s supposed to test you. To make you think. Make you believe – and, as human beings, we need that belief, through art, to sustain us. Now, more than ever, we require depth. We thrive on quality not quantity; real meaning that has the power to cut you to the quick and raise you from the pits in the blink of an eye.

If you applaud TITD for any reason, I urge you to buy their music and support their art. Go to shows. Merch the shit out of them. They need us as much as we need them. Of course, they’re no charity case, but they do deserve your attention. If that results in emotional growth, please, for the love of God, pay them for it.

They must Never Give In.

~

All words by Sean Millard. Read more at *Expletive Deleted