Pharmakon pushes her body to the limit

Margaret Chardiet, better known as Pharmakon, was only 23 when she recorded her latest record, 2014’s Bestial Burden, but from the first track she sounds ready to break. The album starts with Chardiet layering exasperated vocals over herself — like an animal in the throes of death. Her penchant for unearthly drone deconstructs not only all preconceptions of what music should be, it also deconstructs her own health.

With power electronics, tribalesque drums, and a scream powerful enough to make a lion whimper, Chardiet pushes her mind and body to the limit with every performance. The brutality of her art relies on the sacrifice of her well-being. “Sometimes after shows I think I’m never going to be able to have my voice back, but after three or four days it’s totally back to normal,” she says. “When you’re playing a gig almost every night, you’re not going to be in peak physical shape.”

Bestial Burden is a record that few would define as “music” in any traditional sense. There are virtually no discernible melodies and nearly all the lyrics are vanquished by the violence of her vocal delivery. But the physicality of her songs provide a crucial therapy often lost in popular music. Audiences at Chardiet’s performances are either compelled to flee or become wrapped up in the moment.

Her walls of deafening drone force attendees to pay attention and lose themselves amid the mind-melting noise. The sheer intensity of her performances often inspires fans to match her passion. “At my shows I’ve seen everything from people standing to running away to headbanging to moshing to falling on the floor and yelling,” she says.

While it’s easy to dismiss Bestial Burden as a series of torturous noise experiments devoid of philosophy, each of its songs is intentional. The ebb and flow of her noise starts out in her mind. “I have the idea for a song in my head, and I figure out a way to musically recreate the idea. It’s just a lot of revisions, a lot of precision, and a lot of figuring the songs out,” she says.

The overarching concept behind the record is also distinct. Without even listening to the music, someone can get her message from the album cover. Chardiet lies on her back, and a collection of disembodied rib cages and other organs weighs upon her chest — reminding the artist and her audience that, despite our pretensions, we are bags of flesh bound to our insides.

Only a few days before her 2013 European tour, Chardiet had emergency surgery during which an almost five-inch cyst was removed from her body. The operation incapacitated her for weeks, giving her a brutal self-awareness of her own physical limits.

Despite the surgery, Chardiet’s live shows have only become more intense. “It’s not healthy, but I don’t think that I could see myself not pushing myself to make the music I do,” Chardiet says. “Ruining my body in the process is part of the experience.”

In yet another middle finger to her corporeal limitations, Chardiet toured with noise rock group SWANS last year. The high-profile opening slot landed her in venues much larger than the intimate DIY spaces she was accustomed to. “The hardest part of the tour was figuring out how to translate something that’s very emotional and physical on a giant stage where you have a barrier three feet away from the stage,” she says. “I had to work harder to reach people.”

In a live setting Chardiet tries to tear down the social barriers between performer and audience. Whether by screaming or staring fans down, she uses both her music and body to ensnare the audience in her world. “I prefer to address the audience directly as individuals instead of performing as if to a general crowd,” she says. “I like to look into people’s eyes and actually speak the lyrics to them.”

Given her already fragile physical state and her unwillingness to tame her live show, how can Chardiet keep up the fight against her own body before giving up? “That’s the biggest fear .... I’m playing a lot, but when I’m home I take care of my body and voice much better,” she says. “I do what I can, but everyone gets older, everyone’s body changes, and everyone has some way of dealing with that.”

For Chardiet, continuing to put her health on the chopping block for the sake of music demands nothing less than self-sacrifice.