by Saby Reyes-Kulkarni
Twenty years into the extreme-metal era, it takes a hell of a lot for a band that relies on the now-familiar arsenal of blast beats, frantic guitar riffing and death-metal screams to stand out. Yet underground institution Today Is the Day continue to throttle their way to the edge of a sonic and emotional abyss that few other bands have touched, much less sustained into a career. Since its original incarnation arose out of the Nashville underground in the early ’90s to join Amphetamine Reptile’s art-metal vanguard with its first three experimental albums, the band has veered ever closer to straight grindcore territory. Still, they remain as far afield of the curve as they did a decade ago.
It helps that frontman/bandleader Steve Austin, who grew up in Lebanon, Tenn., and moved back to Nashville in 2006, has never given a damn about offending people. Between his lyrics, cover art and MySpace photos, it’s hard not to get the impression of a deranged, arms-stockpiling misanthrope with a short fuse and a finger itching on the trigger. Austin’s lyrics seethe with a hatred so vile they blur the line between artistic expression and psychosis. Highlights include (often ironic) references to racial slurs, white supremacy, Satanism, mean-spirited anal sex, killing children and child pornography, all spiked with Austin’s ongoing fascination with guns.
In conversation, the 41-year-old producer and engineer openly discusses his enthusiasm for military weaponry and the survivalist lifestyle, and offers a lengthy take on the rational, law-abiding use of guns. (Fans and critics alike might also be surprised to find he’s keenly conscious of environmental issues.) But he divulges little about his creative motives other than a vehement insistence that art should be convincing—and not held to PC standards.
“I think what’s wrong with heavy and extreme music today is that it’s just not on some adrenaline-driven, out-of-control, scary trip,” Austin says. “If you’re gonna sing about shit that is supposed to be heavy or hateful or insane or aggressive or angry, then I’d better be believing some fuckin’ anger and hatred.”
While this attitude has earned the band a great deal of notoriety, it would be unfair to overlook the masterful job Austin does of pulling the listener into such an overwhelming, decidedly ugly musical state. He makes it compelling partly by employing a Burroughs-like sense of flow, but he also brings a sincerity that palpitates so intensely within the music that you can’t just dismiss it as shock. Live, with Austin howling in anguish and dripping drool as he compulsively shoves the mic into his mouth, the band conveys a malevolence that almost physically encroaches on you. No two ways about it: This is uncomfortable music, even by metal standards. It also rocks.
Austin emulates the raw, stark-naked intimacy of early Hank Williams, Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson. “That same entity,” he says, “is what I try to stick back in the world every fuckin’ day. You go to get news and the fuckin’ news is being read off a teleprompter. On the radio and TV shows, it’s the same thing. There is nothing you can do on planet Earth anymore that’s a spontaneous move. So, we’re trying to strip away all that shit and go back to, like 1976, when people like Robert DeNiro got together with other motherfuckers and made a movie like Taxi Driver, where they didn’t have any money or focus groups.”
The same ethic drives Austin’s label Supernova Records. Of the 11 acts on the roster that Austin doesn’t play in, each offers something fresh and vital across a surprisingly wide range of styles—from Complete Failure’s wall of “futuristic hyper-grind” to the inventive hip-hop of Bremen, Germany’s Germz. Austin describes them all as “left-of-center and somewhat offensive to the mainstream.” Meanwhile, Trampskirts, The Admiral’s Club, F.U.C.T. and Christine all hail from Nashville, a reflection of Austin’s newfound enthusiasm for the local scene.
“I think it’s a lot better than it was,” says Austin, who frequents Springwater, The End and The Exit/In. “The artistic integrity is totally there again. The folks who were creating music in the ’90s have new bands. There’s also a lot of new young kids who have migrated to Nashville from all over, so it’s made it a lot more of a world city than it used to be.”
Austin recently secured a distribution deal with MRI/Red/Sony, which he presents as an unprecedented coup that poises his signees to benefit from the same distribution power as household names like Slayer. He also insists on an artist-friendly “100 percent transparency” accounting policy.
“We don’t give a shit if you’re 14 years old and recording your ukulele while you’re sitting on the toilet,” says Austin. “We’re not looking to make the fast buck. We’re looking to make history and expose artists who otherwise wouldn’t be exposed.”
