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This is a “first time on vinyl” release of this 1994 full-length. Don’t expect Pure Mania or V2 here. Hunting for You is tuneful rock and alternative which was par for the course in the ’90s, I suppose. This is well done with good production from these UK punk originals; it’s just a little light on punk.
Sooner or later, someone was gonna hit “Vile” and “Reality” when throwing darts at the wall to choose their hardcore band’s name, and I’m glad it was these San Diegans, because this tape is fierce as hell and sounds like a band called VILE REALITY should. Six speedy cuts that generally come in around the 90s-second mark (“Immobilized,” which concludes the tape, is slightly longer) and bundle chuggy mosh parts, air-punching rocker moments and reverb-y, slyly psychedelic touches, topped off by the gruff-not-tough vox of Aaron McQueen. Deserves a vinyl release, although I appreciate the age of just pointing at things and saying “deserves a vinyl release” is not our current one.
Once again, we reach into the “hardcore band name imagery” lucky dip bucket and pull out VIOLENT CHRISTIANS, an Austin ensemble whose debut tape comes via the frequently good Roachleg. You could probably convince someone that No Speed No Punk is an authentic unearthed artefact from some Midwestern scene circa 1984, assuming that wasn’t their specialist subject to start with. “Body Bag” exhibits relatively melodic tendencies to kick us off, but thereafter it’s the kind of ramalama blowout where the vocalist nearly-but-not-quite falls over his lyrics, guitar solos enter and leave within a few seconds and at the end of “Up Your Arse” (these MFs said “arse”), a DIE KREUZEN-like shredder, someone asks, “Are we done?” Hopefully not!
This is this shit that my jaded-ass reviewer ears are looking for: relentless fastcore. Guitars are clean and super fukkd up sounding, drums have a HELLNATION-meets-teenage-blastbeat awkwardness (and they are kinda recorded like shit in the most endearing way), and just 25% of the tracks top the 60 second mark. Put me in a space machine and send me back to 2001, but with all of the anger I feel in a 2020 reality, and boom I’m ready for some fucking YAMBAG. Choice track: “(O)Possum,” but there are seriously no clunkers to be found here. Thank you!
Libertoi, égalioi, fraternitoi! Nearly ten years after the first installment, Nantes-based label Une Vie Pour Rien has put out a second course of delicious Oi! morsels from the francophone world. Absolutely zero fucking about here, as the first track from parisian stalwarts BROMURE is straight in with the saxophone, because is it really French Oi! without it? Stand-out tunes from ULTRA RAZZIA, BOGAN, and COUPE-GORGE follow, and if you like your riffs hard as nails, your vocals gruff, and your saxophone inexplicably present, then this is the comp for you. Marchons! Marchons!
Better start cooking up that Knox gelatin, because this band out of Germany is throwing down some straight-up UK82 hardcore that will have you pissing cider all over your plaid bondage pants after passing out from too much glue. Some of the songs sound like DISCHARGE, some sound like VARUKERS, and others sound just like GBH. Does it break new ground? No, but they’ve got some pretty good riffs, and avoid the cheesiness that this sound can sometimes imply. If you’re one that likes to stick to the classics, check this out.
I am soooo stoked I get to review this. My favorite tape of 2015, and maybe one of my favorites of all time, gets committed to vinyl so it doesn’t get all warbly and warped in your crappy boombox. Originally released on the unequaled Silenzio Statico label, this is now given the deluxe treatment by the supreme folk at Discos MMM. I was lucky enough to see this band tear it up in the backyard of the Poor Kid’s Mansion in Lincoln Heights, Los Angeles back then, and the singer cried and crooned the whole time, wearing a twelve-pack box over his head. Touching and memorable for sure. This release, to me, cries out classic late ’70s/ early ’80s LA punk: the EYES, PLUGZ, ALLEY CATS, and BAGS are all represented in spirit. There’s also a big helping of ’79 UK working class shout and melody thrown in, like SHAM or CHELSEA, even though I kinda hate CHELSEA. I guess super street and super LA is what I’m trying to say here, and if “Passive Aggressive” doesn’t bring a tear to your eye, you’re too fucking hard, man, and should chill. Buy this now! And someone please send me a decent burrito. I’m dying.
You’re flung backwards down some stairs into another room, sprung into the middle of a pit. You come to, thinking maybe four bands are playing at once but it’s all C.H.E.W, there’s just an extra frequency in there that pops up like an intrusive thought, real wacko sound only the baddest saliva animals can creepy crawl to. Doris’s nasal recriminations give way to a full sputtering throat and suddenly there are duelling riffs in five dimensions. A fastidiously choreographed meltdown executed with a similar deranged flair to IMPALERS, but way more petulant. Fuck!!! There’s an extra sub woof-woof-woof of vicious stomp. A song named for a disease you can only get from eating cat shit. Hot feedback. Is that a mosh part played backwards? You can’t feel your head. C.H.E.W have taken the hardcore palette and gone full Abstract Expressionist with it. There’s echoes of that GELD LP from last year, which makes sense because thinking about it Iron Lung put that out too. Exactly the type of factoid some punisher will whisper in your ear as you’re squeezing out the juice from these insane fractal solos. Maybe I am the punisher. Now my sweat is in your eyes and you forgot to shield your kidneys from the mass of feet and elbows and now things feel leaky but hey, that’s why you have two. Emboldened, you rip one out as an offering.
Here’s a quick little ripper from two bands out of California that hits like a brick to the forehead. CELL ROT lays down some beefy mid-tempo, crust-ridden hardcore. There’s plenty of oozing sludge breakdowns and blasted-out fury thrown in to keep it interesting, but it’s a steady ride to bleak oblivion throughout. WORLD PEACE delivers some bare bones, bass-and-drum powerviolence that is all low and all go! I’m talking about that four-songs-in-three-minutes type of shit. Like if early GODSTOMPER were more into NO COMMENT than NAPALM DEATH. Don’t pass this up!
I don’t think I was familiar with this Bloomington band before I put their new record on, despite it being their fifth album or something. I must have listened to it five or six times since; I’m stuck at home with thousands of records and every song on the internet but I find myself coming back to this one over and over, and I discover something new each time. Ostensibly a garage punk act, this ambitious effort by the COWBOYS sees them traverse many songwriting styles, from the terse, staccato science-fiction post-punk of “Wise Guy Algorithm” to the pop-glam BOWIE worship of “Devil Book.” It’s unlikely there’s another record reviewed in these digital pages that spreads itself across so many genres. Part DEVO, part SPARKS; part ENO, part SOFT BOYS: Clever, but not too clever; art pop for the now generation.
First full-length from this Michigan quartet. They describe themselves as a power pop/pop-punk band. Which I guess is kind of fair enough. They also claim that they have emotionally-driven lyrics about stuff like conservative relatives and toxic masculinity, but my aged eyes can’t actually read the tiny font that the lyrics are printed on. Though I’m happy to take them at their word. Musically, I reckon they’re like a cross between later-period DAG NASTY and classic-era HOT WATER MUSIC. They possess fantastic chiming twin guitars that old fuckers like me would claim is very reminiscent of the last SKIDS album (i.e. the one before Stuart Adamson went on to form BIG COUNTRY—as in those kind of chiming guitars), though a lesser hack would just assert that there are lots of IRON MAIDEN-ish twin guitar solos…which’d be fairly accurate, too. Which is a long way of saying this record fucking rocks.
With their brooding and dark sound on the aggressive end of the melodic punk spectrum, it’s actually surprising to me that this band isn’t from Portland. DEAD CELLS are from Vancouver, BC, which, it turns out, actually gets even more rainfall than the capital of brooding, melodic punk. Drenched in chorus effects, with desperate, panicky vocals and melodramatic drum compositions, this record delivers a sound likely to appeal to fans of angsty Northwestern punk like the OBSERVERS and the WIPERS. This record stands apart from the pack with a strong leaning toward classic death rock and a subtle surf vibe that peeks through intermittently. The vocals forgo cool guy slickness, instead veering toward Roz Williams territory—a welcome break from the norm. Definitely an aesthetic that is relevant in the current historical moment and not to be missed for fans of punk that runs on melodic, bittersweet, joyous despair.
Total collision of preconceptions and aesthetics here, and the dust is still settling. Sweden’s DISAVOW are nothing if not impactful, which is to say that I bolted up straight as soon as the intro was over—the demand was instant and undeniable. Modern straightedge hardcore, with roots that reach for MODERN LIFE IS WAR instead of the first (or secod, or third?) waves of ’core, and with a serious fire lit under their ass, and DISAVOW sound real, which is what makes them feel special. I think the term “post-hardcore” probably applies here as well, but this is just an altogether massive slab: intense, honest, emotional, powerful music that needs to be listened to from start to finish, and repeatedly.
There’s some serious latitude given here, since ERNST AND THE EDSHOLM REBELS were responsible for a couple of crucial ’80s Scandinavian slabs, but this disc is utterly forgettable. The guitar leads are interesting, and are mostly enough to hold my interest, but the majority of this is artificially overproduced slog that actually sounds like a record made by some dudes who recorded a killer EP in 1984 (fun fact: they did), and then developed a taste for commercial stoner rock as adults. I like a couple of the modern releases, most notably 2013’s Abort the System EP, but this one just doesn’t do it, and that’s before I even get to the twelve-plus minute “Dirty Waters” that closes the CD.
FLESHIES and SHELLSHAG have both been at it since the late ’90s, and both prove it’s possible for bands to keep moving forward, trying out new sounds, and continually recalibrating the things they know they do best, rather than resting on their punk laurels. Bands come and go, and there is value in the constant flux of a subculture built on ripping it up and starting again. But sometimes bands stick together and end up with not only the longest tour journal on the planet, but a cumulative consciousness of all the stuff that worked: all the sonic and social experiments that went right. So it’s not too surprising that they’d put together a record that is comfortingly familiar yet also weird and courageously original. The first track enfolds FLESHIES’ new downtempo, heart-wrenching, rock’n’roll anthem inside a cozy wrapping of what sounds like the influence of SHELLSHAG’s signature fuzzed-out dreamscape. The second track, also featured on FLESHIES’ most recent full-length, Introducing the Fleshies, changes gears with a brief but intense blast of unstoppable, furious punk mayhem. SHELLSHAG’s first track offers up a new take on their sound: way more dark and driving, but still incorporating distortion-laden team vocals and infectious melodies. The second track descends into an intense unraveling and re-tangling of all the brainwaves. If SHELLSHAG were a rock, this track would be all the cool, mucky, squirmy stuff living underneath it, and we are the excited five-year-old who can’t resist picking it up.
Whoa, what a mess of noise! And I mean that in the most positive way. There is a lot going on here, and I’m way into it. Helmed by Mike of the BANANAS, he is joined by two other vocalists, and the male and female vocals mix with each other so well. One is gruff and loud, the others pitchy and shrill, both so warmly melodic. OK, now that we covered that part, let’s get to the music. Uhhhh, this is going to be way more of a challenge. They say they were attempting to make a punk version of the E STREET BAND and by George, I think they’ve done it. We’ve got keys, sax, tambourine(?), fast drums, rad riffs, and thundering bass lines. I mean, where the hell are the maracas and egg shakers? I have to say, I’m disappointed that they didn’t go fully to the nines on this one. Just kidding, this band is bananas! Do you need some cheering up lately? I fucking bet you do. Put on the GLOBS and forget the world for as many times as you loop the record.
Mad, clean blasts of highly aggressive D-beat hardcore fury from NYC. Vocal cords strained and lost, and the hopeless abandon in its essence sounds metaphorically lost as well. The drums piledrive through with tumbling, slightly sloppy fills, and I mean that in a good way. Solo piano moments break up the assault of furious hardcore. Some metallic crust riffs from HEADSPITTER on this one contrast with their earlier, more Scandi-style recordings, and classic hardcore riffs with optimist attitude are abound, counteracting the bleak tone of everything else. All the songs hit all the marks between two and three minutes, keeping the adrenaline pedal pinned. “At What Cost?” is my favorite track, with lots of variety. Sixteen tracks of quintessential jaded, brooding NYC hardcore from this powerful three-piece.
It’s noteworthy that a record label run by two members of a grindcore band so rarely releases the stuff, but it’s not hugely surprising. Grind (like most genres) attracts the type of people obsessed with it to the exclusion of anything else, and to the inclusion of some pretty generic crud; IRON LUNG’s Jensen and Jon are clearly not that type, so when they help a grindcore record into the world, expectations are of elite tier material. INTERNAL ROT, from Melbourne, matches that expectation. The trio’s past offerings hardly slouched, but Grieving Birth ascends a level again with relentless precision blasts, hideously thick downtuning and vocals that might veer a little far into the “slam death” style for some tastes (suits me fine, personally). Needless to say, you’ll need to take the lyrics on trust, but they’re excellent: gruesome apocalyptica and grouchy scene politics in psychedelically strange syntax, not unlike some of Chris Dodge’s musings in SPAZZ. This album might be considered a standard-bearer for grindcore in years to come.
Latest release by Tokyo’s hardcore veterans, with almost fifteen years under their belt. As with their previous release, their sound has changed a bit from the raging Mangel thrash-esque “Magma Beat Hell” approach. Perhaps due to the lineup change, the approach has shifted from blown-out noisy hardcore to mid-paced hardcore with a cleaner guitar tone, reminesent of DISCHARGE’s non D-beat mid-tempo songs such as “Decontrol” or “State Violence State Control” more than something you will hear from the kangpunk approach like “Victims of a Bomb Raid” or “Nitad.” Still, seeing that they’re a raging hardcore band based out of Tokyo, it’s hard to say they’ve toned down a bit; the sound has matured in its unique manner. It’s not overtly noisy or intense sounding like their earlier releases, but focused more on subtle intensity that is quietly building up. Perhaps it’s their long career or maybe it’s the cultural influences that it has, seems like it’s an output of aggression that is rather unique to an environment like Tokyo. The B-side still carries on with their no-bullshit, raging hardcore punk.
2018 EP is a vinyl version of their tape released on Brain Solvent Propaganda. Just by looking at their logo, it’s obvious that LIFELOCK from Singapore pays homage to late ’80s/early ’90s UKHC DISCHARGE worshippers DISASTER. Simply said, LIFELOCK does sound like DISASTER meets DISCLOSE. For the majority of the punks out there, it usually just starts and ends with “Oh, it sounds like DISCHARGE.” DISASTER indeed was an early-era DISCHARGE worshipping punk band (so was DISCLOSE). Yes, the beat, distortion, chords, song structure, and lyrics are all more or less the same as that one band we keep hearing about, but the specific atmosphere is executed quite well. LIFELOCK gets that very specific intense weight in the air that DISASTER had, but DISCLOSE or even DISCHARGE lacked. LIFELOCK continues to deliver their fear and anxiety driven anthem of the apocalypse. The final song is a DISASTER cover.
I scoured MRR’s list of reviewable records and stumbled across this band I had never heard, and decided to review it based on the cover art: some youth soccer game with a kid going-one-on-one with the goalkeeper. “I’ll Never Forget You” has a tough rumble, making you think you’re dealing with some Oi!-type attack, and then the guitars come through with those big melodic strums. It all comes together like a quicker, leaner track off of Second Empire Justice. The B-side is more focused on getting goths to dance, with a drum machine and synth pushing the tune. Maybe I should break edge and do ecstasy or whatever club drug to really understand how the cover art relates to the music? I originally thought this was going to have a real running-down-the-back-streets vibe (I’m fine without it), but they use the soundbite of a football crowd much more subtlety than Cut the Crap-era CLASH. You’re gonna need this shit for your darkwave Instagram Live DJ set.
San Francisco wife/husband duo, featuring Boom of BOOM & THE LEGION OF DOOM and the IDIOTS, and Scarlet from the MEAT SLUTS. Four songs of catchy, lo-fi, trashy punk rock. Simple rhythms emphasized by Scarlet’s screeching powerful vocals. As the band says: “lots of bark, sweat and treats on this EP,” indeed.
Doom and gloom rain-soaked goth punk here, drowned in atmospheric synth and chorus-inflected bass. Blank, disaffected vocals intone over a downward spiral death-disco of chopped and sped-up CURE riffs, the concoction owing much to contemporaries like DIAT or TOTAL CONTROL. “You Won’t Find Me Now” builds into a chaotic maelstrom of psychotic drums and sax blurts that for some reason reminds me of the first ICEAGE album, more in the claustrophobic feelings generated than actual sound. The album closes with the nine-minute-long epic title track, which, rather than take the group into new sonic dimensions, simply takes the ideas of the previous seven songs and spaces them out, murdering one riff and repeating to infinity. A bleak but not unenjoyable listen for these dark times.
Traditional anti-authoritarian, Basque radical punk. A thick, sturdy rhythm section and huge throaty vocal delivery bring to mind R.I.P. That may seem too obvious of a comparison but the spirit and delivery are uncanny, though they tend to stay more on the melodic side. Song titles like “Soy Anarkysta,” “Anti-Fascista” and “Revolucion” are no surprise to listeners of punk from the region. I’m not writing MALOS TIEMPOS BASTARDOS off as a mere tribute band. Their sound is familiar in a feel-good sense, inspiring one to dream of downing a couple kalimotxos and dancing the night away at a Basque squat.
MAN-EATERS emerged from the corpse of TARANTÜLA who emerged from the corpse of CÜLO and if you know the lore of those bands you’ll be primed for Gentle Ballads for the Simple Soul being a sinewy salvo of chemically-altered rocking hardcore punk. You’ll get that, to a point, but you may be unprepared for how vast and preening the riffs are on this thing. A clear-as-daylight love of ’70s arena rock and proto-metal is baked into each of these ten songs: some of the solos could have been ripped from a NAZARETH record, or something equally archaic and pointedly pre-hardcore. The movie sample intros are like something you’d hear on an ELECTRIC WIZARD joint, and “Man-Eaters” (who among us doesn’t love a self-titled song?) tips things into FU MANCHU levels of gum-chewing dudeliness, but tempos here are generally amphetamine-fast. Danny Babirusa—formerly of BLEEDING GUMS, and the only non-ex-TARANTÜLA member—is the perfect vocalist for this sound, one which plenty of bands from POISON IDEA to TURBONEGRO to ANNIHILATION TIME have offered up before, but if anyone’s doing it as well as MAN-EATERS right now they’ve evaded my ears.
Being a bespectacled, skinny (well, I used to be skinny!) dude that has been known to wear DOA shirts, the picture of these chaps (presumably live at Fort Reno—which is a national park near DC, so far as I can tell) with the singer/guitarist appropriately resplendent with eyewear and apparel elevated them up a notch…call it the herd mentality, if you will. Anyways, there are only three songs, patently performed live (I guess one does short sets at Fort Reno national park). [Ed. note: Fort Reno is a city park in DC across from Wilson High School. They have been hosting free shows (punk and otherwise) for over fifty years.] They remind me very much of early CIRCLE JERKS. Shortish, snotty blasts of fairly melodic punk.
From Philadelphia, this band has a ’90s college rock feel. A mix of VIOLENT FEMMES, ARCHERS OF LOAF, and CLAP YOUR HANDS SAY YEAH. For the most part on the noisy side but there is jangly pop at times as well. There’s some decent stuff on this, and although it’s not a punk rock rager, I can see the guitar indie rock crowd liking this.
Piercing my eardrums apart, MEMBRANE out of Oakland drives a stake through my head with a death march of echoing, sizzling noisecore. Imagine the SCREAMERS, GAI, RUDIMENTARY PENI and the SEXUAL all teamed up in a prison yard, needing to escape. With a sonic arsenal and pipes like this, they easily would. This is wild, dream-like hardcore, mixing it up in a bowl of raw noise punk, seasoned with unique cosmic shredding zest. There is something really alien about this, while being familiar. It’s not hostile, but it definitely wants out, and I am not gonna be the one standing in its way. I feel full, and I’m hungry for more. Life Sum is destined to sell out; good luck getting your hands on a copy.
Monumental in some circles, 2001’s Where You Are and Where You Want To Be has been reissued with a few alternate takes and one previously unreleased track. On the one hand, I think this music is exactly why Tim Yo drew the line at STILL LIFE years ago—an emotionally and inwardly-driven band whose songwriting lent as much to melodic/indie/pop sensibilities as anything found lurking under any “punk” umbrella. On the other hand…who’s to say how big that umbrella should be (cue endless debate in 3, 2, 1…)? Not trying to peel away the importance (or quality) of the release, however. ON THE MIGHT OF PRINCES made ’90s screamo their own, “their own” enough that it holds up and sounds fresh and relevant twenty years later. The melody dominates, and songs flow between anguish and romance and harmless metallic riggage so smoothly that the entire record could almost be one opus (to be sure, this is the case for many devotees). The bonus material falls into the “fans only” category: the alternate versions are essentially just less-produced demo takes, and the unreleased cut “Hell or High Water” is good, but pales when compared to the rest of the record. Suffice to say, that this is not a release for me, but I openly acknowledge the importance, the impact, the intensity, and the void left by the loss of frontman Jason Rosenthal in 2013.
ZUDAS KRUST’s filth-kicking things off with the wrath and gnashing vocals of, well FILTHKICK, ABADDON, and lots of European crust of the early to mid ’90s. This is grotesque, noisy, and blistering muffled D-beat sung in the meter of classic crust hardcore of that era. No-fucks-given aggression, in three passionate tracks. Think ENYZME and FRAMTID contemporarily, with bestial wild force. PARÖTID plays more in the rhythm of DISASTER, with very buoyant loose disruptive bass. Lots of echoing reverb and strange speed changes, sort of weird, but totally intentional and impressive, where one might expect straightforward D-beat the entire way. I really like the way these two play off each other. They are distinctly different, in tone, polish, and speed, but compliment each other. “Humanism” is catchy as fuck! Getting lost in this one. Both bands are recommended, as is the split as a whole.
Third LP from this New Orleans band. Well-produced hardcore that has its pop punk moments, if you consider the harder DESCENDENTS stuff pop-punk. The rest is on the melodic hardcore side à la KID DYNAMITE and STRIKE ANYWHERE. Solid full-length with some interesting twists along the way. A good live band, too.
Within the first five seconds of “Flaming Soul” I’m scanning the back of the sleeve expecting an HG Fact or Blood Sucker logo. This top-tier Japanese hardcore influenced-shit is from Malaysia, features serious Chelsea (more PAINTBOX than DEATH SIDE) riffing and one epic romp after another. Can’t recommend it enough for fans of the aforementioned, CRUDE, LIBERATE, JABARA and the like. “On the Mirror” pivots to a swingy and bluesy take on the style. I’m not losing my mind over it but it’s catchy, and one must appreciate the chutzpah of such a composition. POGOWOLVES have definitely won my attention and “Flaming Soul” is certain to become a regular spin in this household. Looking forward to more!
This Massachusetts band loves ’80s thrash, or more closely, early 2000s retro ’80s thrash. They are as tight as Mitt Romney’s butthole, and take their cues from D.R.I., MUNICIPAL WASTE and later MOTÖRHEAD. Like a less punk SPEEDWOLF, this lacks the grit and grime I so strongly crave with this sort of party. The singer has a constant one-tone scream, and almost nü-metal style that berates and makes this reviewer want to call for the check. Still, songs like “Truth Decay” and “Nobody Puts Baby in a Dumpster” are fantastical shredwork, so give it a spin and see what you decide. I need more coffee.
SPIT KINK sounds like a new wave kid’s first attempt at singing PRINCE songs. There are simple electronic beats backing breathy vocals. At first it seems all wrong, but then about halfway in, I am starting to enjoy it. It’s just weird enough while also being peppy and dancey. Best track title: “Ted Talkin’.” Best track: “Yes to Everything.” 100 copies lathe-cut 7″. Don’t snooze.
Listening to the first few tracks, I get the idea that if someone had never heard the RIVAL MOB demo but got handed this tape, they could maaaaybe think that this was it. It’s punk for devout capital-H hardcore kids. Mosh part, fast part (the catchiness and allure of such riffs haven’t made themselves known to me), then another fast part. SUBLIMINAL EXCESS, or “SEx” for short, don’t sound like they’re at their tightest, especially on “Psychotic Break,” and the final track “Burning Feeling” meanders for a minute with a noisy dirge, but then gets into a mid-tempo assault that would feel very modern if it wasn’t for the whispered INTEGRITY-like vocals that crescendo into Jerry A.-type growling. Nothing I write really matters since the tape already sold out, but then again only 100 were made. Is that a lot now? Does that make it a collector’s item? Is the market fixed? Regardless of those answers, it’s assured that demo-core is back.
Grab yer Beauséant and yer cuirass, it’s only the bleedin’ TEMPLARS! The Lords of the Sword, for it is they, are back in reissue form. Pressing one of their finest cuts to 12″, half a dozen gruff skinhead rock’n’rollers from the mean streets of Long Island. At this stage, if you’re not on board with the TEMPLARS, this reissue is unlikely to change your mind, but who needs you anyway then, mate? “Skins & Punks” is an obvious highlight, as are some of the more tuneful numbers toward the end of Side B, but nothing sticks around too long as to become boring (anything more than twelve tracks is prog, lads). One for completists sure, but if you haven’t already heard this, you’d be well-advised to part with some hard-earned cash for it.
Lille’s TRAITRE, on face value, seems to plough a well-trodden furrow in the field of Oi!: a heady mix of rough n’ ready NABAT-style riffs and gang vocal “woah-oh”s in the vein of their compatriots, the venerable WARRIOR KIDS and REICH ORGASM. There is, however, a certain melancholy that beats at the heart of this record, and almost touches upon Second Empire Justice-era BLITZ territory at points. Ennui and anger pulse throughout this record. Existential Oi! for the thinking skinhead; even boot boys get the blues. Well worth a spin.
Ignoring the skate rock and punk tags on their bandcamp page, I can’t tell if this sounds like SYSTEM OF A DOWN or a Mike Watt band recording, and that’s being generous. This is pretty slick and sounds prog to me with lots of vocal harmonies. This is well done for the vague genre, but I’m just not digging this sound in 2020.
Fantastic record. Their songs are super high-energy, catchy, and dancey. Like just the right mix of power pop and straight-up rock’n’roll, with a touch of “someone’s older sibling was into goth shit in the ’80s.” That’s a very technical genre that I just made up. The vocals have some reverb or something on them that make them feel distant and echoey. But they lay on top of the sonic melodies really nicely. There’s just something, like…ethereal about the way the singer sounds. I feel like without these powerful and slightly eerie vocals, the music is strong enough to stand on its own, but together they’re a force. They compare themselves to WHITE LUNG, and I think that’s very apt. The songs are artsy and have carried elements of influence through many decades. A little bit of ’80s smokey dance/goth vibes, side helping of unaffected ’90s indie rock attitude, and a topping of pop synth from the aughts. I think they’ve created a really cool soundscape here, and I’m stoked to hear it.
Originally released in 2014 on CD, this record from Lima, Peru’s VARSOVIA struck a nerve with synth punk fans, prompting its reissue this year for the first time on vinyl. Expertly-programmed synth compositions compliment beats that blend rugged industrial samples with tidy post-punk arrangements. The vocals cover a wide range, too, sometimes dramatic and haunting, other times yelling or concise and reserved. Some of the tracks land solidly in the truly experimental realm not unlike MEN’S RECOVERY PROJECT, while others offer a dancefloor-ready coldwave sound. Overall, this is a lot more slick than most records reviewed here (one of the tracks was featured on HBO’s Spanish-language comedy series, Los Espookys), but definitely a landmark in the synth-punk skyline; worth checking out!
There are records I listen to having only one of the instruments within my scope. I listen to JERRY’S KIDS for the drums and I can envision myself revisiting AXE RASH’s record mostly for the vocals. The almost gorey-ugliness of the vocalist is as surprising as it was to hear UNITED MUTATION for the first time. Wish the music was just as exciting and while it is good it never escapes to be anything else. As if they cannot fail, they do not fail, therefore there is no danger on this record. It is powerful hardcore punk, occasional crazy parts, every specific parts has their traffic sign placed in advance as we approach them. Those who say that whatever MRR berates is worth listening to should go and check out AXE RASH; if you are going for the quantity of daily good bands, go listen to them, you might find something that clicks with you. For me they are too compliant. But I will be first in line if their singer starts a DIE KREUZEN-inspired band, her vocals are sick!
First release from this streetpunk outfit hailing from the Netherlands, and with any luck it will be their last. Workmanlike riffs twinned with anaemic attempts at barked vocals, laced with a series of increasingly cringe-inducing film quotes; so far so modern streetpunk. Vague and indirect small “p” political lyrics railing against authority and lying politicians, not to mention the prerequisite football tune, and it’s nothing we haven’t heard one thousand times before. One to miss.
Oh, a split made for VIDRO’s Brazilian tour, originally released on tape and now put out by Byllepest on vinyl. This explains a lot, while both bands are among the better up-and-coming groups, VIDRO dominates the record. Already appreciated their previous full-length, now they are even better, playing fucked-up, mid-tempo hardcore somewhere between modern, riff-based groups and SSD/DYS stomping parts, while if you fell for daydreaming seconds, you can find yourself humming “Now I wanna be your dog” to their music, too. Their singer has a great, super pissed off voice; it pairs well with the guitars that dare to experiment beyond a few chords’ chunky riffs. While their side is as effective on moving my body as if someone shook me by my shoulders, I do not feel hypnotized into fist-pumping, but I nod my head owning total consciousness over my limbs. VIDRO deserves it. Luckily for CANKRO, the Byllepest version equaled out the production differences, thus the quality upgrade definitely elevated CANKRO’s side. Feels bizarre to use the word “promising” in a culture that glorifies immature groups, and their badly played rehearsal session demos, still I feel CANKRO is set for something more fucked up and crazy than what they present here. It’s already uptempo hardcore that recalls some of their countries predecessors, but I’m not reconciled with their rock-ish solos. It’s the worst I can tell about them, not as if I wish to, but again they flash a lot of potential to future killer records, already within these four songs. Kudos for Byllepest Distro for putting this tape on the coolest format.
Blasting grind insanity that asks more questions than it answers. The keyboards are understated, but give this Minneapolis outfit an occasional mainstream black metal sound that is a sharp contrast to the abrasive atonal machine-gun blast attack that dominates most of the tracks. Like PG.99 and SOCKEYE combining forces to cover KVIST…a truly weird collection of instrument/alists (eight of them…? Maybe?)…or maybe a one-person bedroom project. Songs include “Meat Fukkr,” Man Bun in the Oven” and “Circle of Sodomy,” which should get you headed in the right direction. I made it to the last track, “Dick Chisel,” and I’m still trying to figure out what I’m listening to…which is absolutely a compliment.
Perth’s COLD MEAT were practically perfect from their first utterance, the Sweet Treats tape released nigh on five years back. I say “practically” to acknowledge that their atonal KBD clang, personal-political feminist lyrics and ever-changing pseudonyms stuck fast to a template established by GOOD THROB a few years prior. Hot and Flustered, COLD MEAT’s debut album, eclipses that minor issue majorly—this sounds like no individual entity so much as the latest raging entry in a half-century continuum of fucked-off snarky DIY punk. There are hooks on here visible from space, highlighted by a spot-on production, and lyrical earworms in waiting. Ashley Ack, as she goes by this time, is imperious here, one of punk’s current vocal powerhouses for sure, and at certain points (the closing section of “Women’s Work,” notably) seems to channel the spirit of Vi Subversa, the POISON GIRLS absolutely being part of that continuum I mentioned. A blazing band that keeps getting even better.
Fuzzy crossover metal punk from Nottingham. Short mad burst of thrash punk fury while at its core is A-political stenchcore riding the wave of the late ’80s thrash explosion. That’s the real standout here: the anarcho-punk stench is unrivaled through snotty coarse vocals, fanatically harsh D-beat/thrash drumming, and melodic breakdown with dirgey subterranean riffs carrying them through. Like the grooves of S.O.D. with the importance of C.O.C. Messy and punk technical thrash with Scandi-style ten-second guitar solos. This is actually a really fun listen. It’s aggressive, has bizarre samples, the lyrics are smart, the metal is up your arse and the punk is in your face. I first heard CONCRETE SOX on the Endless Struggle 1-in-12 comp and they sounded like DOOM meets OI POLLOI. Every time I got into a “new” CONCRETE SOX recording, it’s something new to experience. Anywhere from SORE THROAT to SUICIDAL to GANG GREEN. Sometimes that can seem confusing. But in their case somehow it is exciting. Keep it salty, keep it strange.
The assignment gods are punishing me for being late with my reviews I suppose, because I can’t even tell what I’m listening to. Wildly addictive pop sensibilities, wildly nonsensical synth freakouts, drug-addled construction, capture and (especially) presentation—equal parts JONA LEWIE and AN ALBATROSS? Does that even make sense? Add DJ LEBOWITZ and a shitpile of meth, maybe. Of course they’re from Binghamton, New York…where else can this exist? Chickasha, Oklahoma? Yeah…a couple of tracks sound kinda like DEBRIS cast-offs, so I just went there. You do me, I do you. Also, apparently this LP is “three-sided,” so throw that on the weird pile and get fukkd up.
Ooh baby, this is tough. Heavy hardcore riffs and tough-as-nails breakdowns. ENEMY doesn’t come off particularly like tough guys, though. Do I feel that way because of the polite hand-written note which accompanied the cassette? Perhaps it’s because of the band name and song titles written in pink paint marker directly onto the cassette shell in lieu of any sort of artwork? Either way, I dig the effort. I can’t find any info about the band, but I hope to because this is hard enough to get us aging punkers out of mosh retirement.
FRACTURED is a new band from Montreal featuring ex-members of quite a few bands whose records are already in your collection. Their stated objective is to play “UK82 like BROKEN BONES, but at a faster pace” and that’s a good place to start. But they are far from a clone of BROKEN BONES or any UK82 band, really. In fact, that scene might have provided inspiration, but the guitar tone and overall production have a sound that is far from retro. The song structures do owe much to pre-crossover BROKEN BONES, but I feel like there is also some influence in structure and pacing from POISON IDEA and “Burning Spirits” Japanese hardcore. The guitar tone is more crisp and dry than something like BROKEN BONES—in fact, it reminds me a lot of the sound of EXIT ORDER, or maybe some of those mid-’80s Norwegian bands. All of this is to say that despite being inspired by BROKEN BONES and having some wicked Bones-inspired guitar leads, this band has a pretty fresh and original sound which draws on the rich history of the hardcore genre.
It’s cool how unpretentious this record is. The band’s got no pedals or gimmicks to hide behind and no fake street politics or ideology to promote aside from a seething distaste for society and life. The vacant mindset is represented by the bare jacket art resulting in an extremely snotty record but the music isn’t as barebones as it may seem as FRIED E.M. operate in an interesting fits-and-stops manner. Some songs are rumbling blasts while others are more janky stop-go mutations with groaning bass, Ginn-esque guitar squeals and pummeling drums. It’s like they’ve scraped the grime and desperation from BLACK FLAG’s Damaged and thrown it onto a cleaner modern interpretation of MAD SOCIETY, the CIRCLE JERKS, the OVERKILL 7″ and other random L.A. punk bands. The A-side kinda lacks but the B really takes off. If you were into SCHOOL JERKS ten years ago, you can feel young again with this.
