Cold Comfort Capital cassette
Caps off to Ben Forrester from the northwest of the UK, whose bedroom project holds the stage with the confidence of a full crew. This is lo-fi hardcore that bridges the gap between the garage and the pit, a minor tightrope act that displays Forrester’s balance and songwriting chops. Even with a DIY DAW setup, complete with programmed drums (I’m 98% sure), the throat-shredding aggression and misery is potent and bolstered by riffs that stick in your head. The vocal performance is unbridled and wild, and the overall sound is chaotic and noisy as far as production, but everything is also focused. Dialed-in to destroy. The world sucks, and this tape tells you just how much. With drum machine near-gabber madness like “Job On,” this is an album that shows a remarkable amount of stylistic flexibility. A total blast from the bedroom.