Last night, driving back from a trip to view the eclipse, I apologized and told my wife I had to listen to something loud to keep me awake. I threw on this record, having not been able to give it a full listen since receiving my copy. A couple songs in, she joked, “I don’t know why you thought I wouldn’t enjoy this.” Then, she asked why I did.

It put me in an odd state of self-reflection. Ten years ago, I never would have expected that I would not only endure listening to a full record this abrasive, nevermind enjoy it. Sunbather had widened my tastes up to heavy music, but even bits of that record were too much for me. Even as recently as two years ago, I would caveat my enjoyment of bands like envy, Boneflower and Chalk Hands with the disclaimer “I don’t usually like screamo, but…”

Recently, I’ve learned how incorrect that disclaimer actually is, and just in time for Frail Body to release an absolute masterpiece of the genre.

Likely due to my believed aversion to screamo, I haven’t spent any significant time with the group’s celebrated A Brief Memoriam, hailed by many as a landmark record in the genre. But as far as Artificial Bouquet is concerned, it requires no previous devotion to prove itself. It is as vibrant and passionate as screamo gets.

It’s certainly an intense and caustic listen. The sonic aesthetic for much of the record is pretty close to black metal. Blast beats, full throttle bass pounds, and tremolo picked guitars run at breakneck tempos under harsh screams. But unlike black metal, there are a lot more colors in its palette. There is a melodic sensibility to the instrumentation, despite the vocals’ lack of the same. Guitars utilize open chords and delay to great effect while the bass often plays acrobatic melodies.

Its breakneck pace is not ceaseless, either. Many moments bring the tempo and volume down with surprisingly beautiful results. “Devotion” is particularly gorgeous, starting with an emotional opening passage and building to one of the more intense moments on the record. But even at its most punishing, this record never quite feels violent. Its catharsis feels more passionate than angry, like someone took an emo record and just made it faster and louder.

And while it might bear some superficial similarities to black metal, to me it feels more like Thursday or Touché Amoré than anything near black metal. It is brutal and demanding, to be sure, but its intensity is first and foremost an emotional one, with the sonics following behind it.

I guess that could stand as a defense for why I enjoy screamo in general too.