I’m sure there were other bands purveying the sludge pop vibe before Torche; hell, you could say that Floor, the band founded by Torche’s Steve Brooks and Juan Montoya were already setting the groundwork for what Torche, the eponymous debut would crash out of the gate with. But it was my first dalliance with this kind of heaviness, one sheathed in a sparkling pop veneer, made more striking by the rainbows adorning the molten volcano on the cover art. Things would get even more melodic and catchy on subsequent releases, but I started here in that glorious year where extreme metal became a touchstone for me (again); let let’s take a moment and wrap up the work week with why this works (alliteration for the win).

It’s hard to spot the pop with the 1-2 attack of “Charge of the Brown Recluse” and the aggression of “Safe”. Especially with Brook’s sonorous voice snarling out lines like “Paint them with napalm / Yeah, they won’t back down / Chemical Warfare / sea is read, raining blood.” It’s a contradiction to be sure, and as Torche progresses it feels like the band sequenced the tracks in such a way to ensure they were meeting the expectations of the fans based on their pedigree. But then something happens around the time of “Erase”: riffs streamline; a guitar line brings to a major key melody. We get shades of indie rock and a little dose of shoegaze and all the reason I fell in love with the band are captured in just over two minutes.

I mean, it’s only slightly undone by the woozy psychedelia of “F**k Addict” which channels Jane’s Addiction in addition the band’s other influences. But then we’re right back into the thick of the hook-laden swamp, with “Vampyro” and its ear worm guitar lines and that killer chorus. “Rockit” is even more catchy, a speeding bullet of pure anthemic rock that pulls out all the stops in just over a minute.

It reaches its apex with “Fire”, and I think this song more than any other sets the stage for what Torche would do on their even better follow-up Meanderthal before bouncing to sugary perfection on 2012’s Harmonicraft. The final three songs on Torche do dip back into deeper, sludgier waters, with the nine-minute “The Last Word” being another melancholic dose of post rock and psychedelia. The guitars moan and feedback over a steady pulse of bass and drums, and the delay and reverbs creates a hazy wash that soaks and sinks you into the earth.

Like I said: I’m positive a lot of bands were traversing this particular sonic road before Torche, and there may be bands deeper in the underground who some would argue did it even better. But in 2005 I hadn’t heard anything quite like Torche before, and it was another gateway that opened my ears to a wider palette of music.