Each of HEALTH’s four albums sound like something you’d accidentally stumble across on the deep web at any point between The Net’s cyberterrorism anxieties of 1995 and the lush dilapidation of the Blade Runner universe in the year 2049. As the LA experimental rock group has gracefully aged from the mathy harsh noise of their 2007 self-titled debut to their current adherence to pop structures and discernible vocals, they’ve always sounded like a surreal conversation between Hans Zimmer and Silversun Pickups at a Prurient set. To add to the enigma, HEALTH’s live shows are almost entirely devoid of stage banter—just three energetic silhouettes testing the quality of our earplugs.
“We were lucky to come out of a very fertile noise scene centered in Downtown/Eastside Los Angeles,” explains the trio’s vocalist Jake Duzsik, who, over the phone, sounds nothing like the silent, fog-shrouded apparition I’d seen lead the band’s recent set at—where else?—Hollywood Forever Cemetery. He’s the kind of person who effortlessly uses words you’ve only ever encountered in writing as he sets up the series of events which led to the group’s forthcoming LP, VOL. 4 :: SLAVES OF FEAR, which could only have come out of an open-minded DIY scene. “Even though there were some stylistic throughlines, it was a very open environment. We didn’t feel pressured to sound like the other bands that were playing the same shows in order to fit in. As such, we just experimented until we found our own identity.”
Among the “other bands” Duzsik refers to are No Age, Abe Vigoda, and Mika Miko—three very distinct takes on punk who permeated LA’s long-standing bastion of all-ages DIY, The Smell, during the same late-aughts period as HEALTH. “Even though there were more ‘punk’ bands, noise was a huge part of the scene,” Duzsik assures me, letting on that it was hard to feel out of place in such a chaotic moment in LA–based music. Though it’s hard to imagine now, Los Angeles was hardly a hub for musicians looking to make it in indie circles a decade ago, leaving the scene open for groups like HEALTH to make a name for themselves touring warehouse spaces up and down the coast. “We kind of did a get-in-the-van, This Band Could Be Your Life approach to it. The intimidating part was wanting to make sure you were good live and had something valid or novel to offer.”
Unlike their peers, HEALTH boasted a unique aesthetic loosely associated with the short-lived witch house moment (did you catch the name of their latest album, which, again, is stylized as “VOL. 4 :: SLAVES OF FEAR”?), which soon boosted them to notoriety and resulted in opening spots for Nine Inch Nails and Interpol. For HEALTH, their audience’s reception was significantly less important than the fact that they “got to go fuckin’ crazy” in front of such wide audiences across the U.S. and Europe (Duzsik recalls one NIN fan flipping him the bird, non-stop, through an entire set, while the band allowed for too few moments of tranquility to ever really get a sense of the crowds’ general response). Perhaps it’s this approach that’s led them to their present status as underground icons whose organic growth has undergone little sacrifice in their development toward something in the arena of pop music.