METZ and the Beautiful Noise That Refuses to Behave

Let’s talk about the absolute mayhem and noise that is METZ. The Canadian punk-rock band was formed in 2007 and they haven’t fucking stopped since. Seriously. Have a listen to “Headache” off of their self-titled album. The drums, the planned monotony. Now listen to “Entwined” off of Up On Gravity Hill. Right?

METZ makes records that feel like they’ve been pushed past the point of comfort. Everything clipped. Everything tense. The sound hits hard and stays there.

The guitars are scorched and jagged. Drums drive forward with no pause. Vocals come in like they’re fighting through walls. The whole thing sounds less like a band performing and more like a system under stress.

It’s not chaos. It’s something more focused—tight, loud, physical. You can tell they’ve built this sound brick by brick, but they don’t slow down to show the work. No flash. No indulgence. Just force.

They’re part of a tradition, but not trapped in it. You might hear traces of Fugazi or Big Black if you’re listening for them. But METZ isn’t doing callbacks. Their music doesn’t wink. It just runs straight through.

There’s no sense they’re reaching for a mood or an audience. The songs don’t invite you in. They crash into the space and fill it up. Once they start, there’s nowhere else to go.

The clarity comes from how stripped everything is. No filler. No posturing. Just sound made under pressure, and recorded before it can cool off.

That’s what makes it hit.