How I learned to stop worrying and love the Boris

Few artists have brought out my inner music snob like artsy doom-metal heroes Boris. By building their discordant, experimental sound on Sonic Youth far more than Metallica, Boris have become the latest winners of the "metal band for people who don't like metal" award, like a hipstery Rage Against the Machine. Thus, ever since Pink was reissued in America in 2006, I've been putting up with NYC-area kids who claim that Boris is the elite, cutting edge in metal, usually via one of the following statements:

"Gawd, everybody likes that Dimebag Darrell shit, but it's just jock music. I like real metal, metal that's interesting, like Boris."

"Huh? No, I don't listen to Ozzy, I just like the shirt. The only metal that I listen to is Boris."

"So you're into metal? Like Boris?"


Mention metal music in Williamsburg and I guarantee that you'll hear at least one of those statements. But it's ridiculous to claim that Boris aren't a metal band since they blend noise-rock, alternative and psychedelic influences into their music, and it's demeaning to metal to act as if it's limited to a specific sound. Yes, Boris have fans who wear ironic t-shirts and can't tell Motörhead from Machine Head, but that's nothing to hold against the band--especially when they release records as challenging and exciting as Smile.

Smile (perhaps they're too metal to heed Brian Wilson?) comes in two reworked editions, Japanese and American. Predictably, Allmusic and Pitchfork have declared the spacier, less-rockin' Japanese version to be superior, but the gringo version has the benefit of 'Statement,' a stoner metal beach party in three-and-a-half minutes that promises to be one of the year's best songs. Starring some buzz-saw riffage, train whistle vocals and an unironic cowbell, Boris throw down the gauntlet at countrymen Guitar Wolf for severe high-level rocking. The winner is, of course, the listener, but the Japanese edition substitutes the song with 'Messeeji,' an avant, slow-building mix of 'Statement' that stretches the tune for seven minutes and buries or erases much of the guitar-playing. It's stirring and fun to listen to, but it feels like a reconstruction of the definitive original. Tracks like 'Messeji' and 'Shoot!,' which re-imagines the American version's Melvins-inspired 'Laser Beam,' play somewhat like tutorials for audiophiles and remix artists. Maybe something for the kids who preferred Further Down the Spiral to the original.

Still, both versions serve healthy doses of rocking out and weirdness, and whichever way you prefer your Boris, it's clear that they're an exciting, innovative act currently at a songwriting peak. Smile is often droning and idiosyncratic, but the best moments come in the actual songs. 'My Neighbor Satan' delivers melodic, oddly pretty verses before diving into effects-heavy monster rock interludes, and the spacey 'Flower, Sun, Rain' and 'You Were Holding an Umbrella' are as mellow and as disconcerting as a ticking time bomb. 'Untitled' may not be worth all 15 minutes of feedback and noodling, but it's atmospheric and never jarring. Even the 2o-minute Japanese version sounds like it would be mind-blowing performed live in a small club. Smile may have some misfires, but this is a band whose flaws are more exciting than a lot of bands' strengths.