This demo cassette from French punks ALLUSION features four viciously raw, D-beat-heavy hardcore punk tracks on the A-side, with even more abrasive versions of the same program on the B-side. It’s evident from the first thirty seconds of both sides where ALLUSION draws their aggression from. Be ready for pummeling drum breaks, distorted guitar leads, and barking vocals on whichever side you choose to play.
Italian band ASTIO calls Trento (a city in the foothills of the Italian Alps) home, and they create haunting, riff-heavy punk that stomps and pogos. Bocche Stanche is a six-song 12” that would be a welcome addition to almost any record collection. ASTIO uses this release to give a tutorial on how to shred while also creating a groovy enough environment that the inclusion of saxophone is totally welcome! The vocal delivery has a raw but not overly abrasive quality, while the rhythm section is featured pretty forward in the mix and is the total heart of this groove machine.
ATENTADO TERRÖRISTA (“Terrorist Attack”) are some energetic punks from Temuca, Chile. This is upbeat, pissed-off pogo with lyrics in Spanish, singing about various injustices, getting drunk, and skateboarding. For best results, play this tape in a boombox with a 40oz somewhere near it and get hyped.
From the moment the EP kicks off, it’s clear that BASUKO is here to make a statement. Much like ELECTRIC CHAIR, their music embraces the rawness that defines US hardcore punk, channeling energy into an electrifying listening experience. A sonic rebellion against the mundane, a call to arms for those seeking an unfiltered musical escape. BASUKO will carve out their own place within the genre.
Enjoyably knockabout Oi!-infused street punk from this band of Boston bruisers. Unfairly compared to DEATH RIDGE BOYS (Oi! for people who hate Oi!) in the accompanying blurb, this release fits nicely within the pantheon of American Oi!, replete with obligatory TEMPLARS-adjacent gruff vocals (without wandering into caricature territory). A surprise French number is also welcome, yet perhaps thankfully lacking the accursed saxophone by which our comrades from La République are inexplicably enamoured.
Don’t think it is an exaggeration to say that this is one of my favourite bands still going, up there with MESS, FUERZA BRUTA and CASTILLO; they are the real deal. It seems a little reductive making the comparison merely owing to their shared Francophile nature, but this really does feel like a spiritual cousin to a RIXE EP—earworm choruses, buzzsaw guitars, and gang vox designed to be yelled while covered in lager. Extremely worth a spin.
BLACK AUBERGINE is a unique band. The amalgamation of influences, reminiscent of bands like HOAX, HELLHAMMER, NAUSEA, or even GODFLESH, creates an interesting auditory experience. The diversity in styles adds a dynamic quality to the demo, from the most primitive of hardcore to the darkest electronica, showcasing the band´s versatility and creativity. However, the challenge might lie in maintaining a cohesive identity amidst such genre diversity, which BLACK AUBERGINE achieves! Overall, an interesting compilation of songs that could appeal to fans of experimental and boundary-pushing music.
The experience of listening to this album is kinda like buying weed as a high-schooler. If you don’t know any better, a bag of schwag may not seem so bad, even if smoking it does leave you with a headache afterwards. If Good Time Noise serves as someone’s introduction to the wild and wacky genre that is punk rock, they could be forgiven for mistaking this as being decent, or even good. For me, it’s all stems and seeds. BLADEN MCLAUGHLEN + THE GOOD TIME BOYS can only be described as “boomer punk.” I have no idea if the band members are in fact boomers—nor do I care—but the songs they have committed to polycarbonate plastic substrate sound more dated than the medium on which they appear. One track begins with a George W. Bush sound clip, which is an odd choice of source material to sample in 2023, but I guess it relates to the song, which is titled “Won’t Get Fooled Again.” Pete Townsend would be rolling in his grave, were he not still alive. By and large, Good Time Noise is riddled with boring, mid-tempo drivel that is simultaneously over and under-produced, somehow. I’d have snoozed right through this one if the hoarse, grating vocals weren’t so darn loud. Most of the lyrics seem well-intentioned, but the title track is excruciatingly dumb, even for a drinking song. And then there’s the ode to Portland, Maine—a majestic place of stunning natural beauty that I now wish to avoid altogether for fear that this release is representative of its current punk scene. Yikes.
Hardcore out of Tacoma, with a style that I’ve come to refer to as “blink and you’ll miss It” punk. Six songs in roughly three minutes and change. I’ll be honest, folks. If your band can write a decent twelve-second song, chances are I’ll love you. Like a more modern, polished NEGATIVE APPROACH. Great stuff here.
Under what conditions do folks generally welcome a live release? When it’s by a seminal act with a relatively large back catalog of hits (It’s Alive)? When it’s a particularly exceptional performance (Live at the Harlem Square Club, 1963)? When it’s by a beloved band that burned too hot or was shrouded in mystery and folks are clamoring to gain any additional insights (anything from Mark Winter bands)? When it’s aimed at a relatively large audience of sickos (the FUGAZI live series)? What we have here is a four-track 12”—the digital version has two bonus tracks—culled from a 1984 live performance by post-punk group BUNNYDRUMS. Does it meet any of the above conditions? It does not. BUNNYDRUMS, a Philadelphia act that grew out of the ashes of first-wave punk unknowns the BONEHEADS, are at best an interesting footnote in American post-punk history. They existed as part of an odd scene at an awkward time when new wave and post-punk were beginning to coalesce into alternative rock. Insofar as this release does anything, it perhaps provides a decent snapshot of that moment. But, honestly, I would think one of their two studio LPs, 1983’s P•K•D or 1984’s Holy Moly (the former of which is pretty good!), would better serve that purpose. That’s not to say this is bad. I actually quite like the instrumental track that closes out the record—it reminds me a lot of the early OH SEES, when they were at their CRAMPS-iest. I just don’t know who’s asking for this thing. It looks like these guys were big in the Netherlands for some reason-—it’s the only other country that issued their LPs, and this performance took place in Wageningen, so maybe the Dutch. For this label’s sake, I hope so.
This is a funny one for me. From Sweden, these guys deliver a version of melodic punk rock that has guitar elements that remind me of both the STOOGES and SOCIAL DISTORTION, though definitely a little softer. It’s got a very 1977 sound to it. It’s mid-tempo and catchy, and the production is crisp without sounding overproduced. That said, there’s a metal/glam thing in some of the vocals that almost reminds me of hair bands, like POISON. The jury is still out on this one.
Another co-sign from the veritable hit factory that is Mendeku Diskak—this reissue of the Berlin-based COLLAPS is perhaps not quite their bread and butter, but is an interesting prospect. Comprised of a variety of Berlin scene vets, this is an intoxicating mix of D-beat, hardcore, Oi!, and good old-fashioned P-U-N-K punk. Snotty, cerebral, abrasive, it’s good stuff, baby. Give it a go.
Third release by this geographically-spread UK hardcore band, although the second was a super limited lathe 7” with two songs which are both among the six on Repulsive Reflections. The first side of this EP mixes up crust-adjacent hammer blows (“Abstain”) and creepy crawl trudging that explodes into wild VOID-like guitar mania (“Theft II”), and to that end makes for a pretty clear bridge back to CONSOLATION’s debut tape from 2019. On B-side numbers “Free” and “Stolen,” I pick up screamo vibes—at least one member of the band has a background in the 2010s UK iteration of that scene—in the guitars and vocals, like an Ebullition Records version of, say, PERSPEX FLESH. Works a charm for me. Speaking of charm, I really like the variety of people named in the lyric sheet’s “inspired by” list, including Kano (the grime MC), Shon Faye, and Bernadette Devlin.
I can’t put my finger on it but something about this record reminds me of a type of sound that would have been prevalent in the ’90s. It’s a little bit rock’n’roll, it’s a little bit hardcore, it’s a little bit neither of these. The vocalist reminds me of Kirsten from NAKED AGGRESSION at times, and at others sounds like the vocalist of some kind of Orange County ska band. All in all, this has moments where I really like it. For the most part though, it’s just OK. It reminds me of a bar band, mostly.
CROSS CONTROL from L.A. plays hard and mostly mid-tempo traditional hardcore on their LP Try and Survive, following in the footsteps of the classics (think BLOOD FOR BLOOD, SLAPSHOT, and CRO-MAGS). While not bringing anything particularly new to the table, fans of the genre will find plenty to sink their teeth into. In addition to some great breakdowns on “Half Right” and “Always the Same,” “Number of Dead” and “Diadem” both boast some majorly catchy vocals, and final track “Everything’s Fucked” veers into straight punk territory reminiscent of MINOR THREAT. Good shit that sounds tailor-made for a hardcore fest.
Day-glo new wave sheen meets darkly shrouded goth gloom—blacklight post-punk? CURRENT AFFAIRS’ 2017 demo cassette primarily lurked in SIOUXSIE-shaped shadows, followed by a pair of 7” singles that leaned a little harder into jangly, tambourine-bashing C86 pop energy for a big-hair-and-eyeliner vibe that was closer to WE’VE GOT A FUZZBOX AND WE’RE GONNA USE IT than anything else. Off the Tongue is the Glasgow-centered group’s first proper long-player, and the deliberately-paced drama of these ten tracks mirrors the considerable length of time (a relative eon in punk years) that it took for this record to materialize. Joan Sweeney’s vocals are still belted out with a hyper-expressive urgency, but with songs like “No Fuss” and “Get Wrecked” running at over four minutes each, CURRENT AFFAIRS give themselves space to take more wandering, circuitous paths from point A to point B than what was afforded by the band’s earlier jumpy, wired-up anthems. “Right Time” is drenched in chorus pedal shimmer so thick that you can almost feel the fog machine kick in, while the stern, asymmetrical rhythms of “Cahoots” cut through any lingering haze like a fishnet-clad PYLON—I’d happily take a whole album of the latter over the former, but then again, I’ve never owned a can of hairspray in my life.
Quick and solid tape from this Cleveland band that sounds like classic ’80s USHC but reveals layers of weirdness right below the surface. Vocalist Mark has a vocal approach that mixes the unhinged power-slur of John Brannon with the wavering croon of David Yow. It’s pretty great. Once the fast HC battering ram effect wears off a little, subtle details like the fat, fuzzed-out bass and melodic breakdowns weaving through the five short songs become apparent. This is fast hardcore with texture, depth, and personality. Tracks like “Last Man Laughing” and “Can’t Eat a Condo” expertly veer between punk and noise rock lanes, greeting traditionalism with sneering experimentation. Check it out—it’s definitely worth six minutes of your time.
This is the second 1991 demo tape from this obscure Providence thrash metal band. They were doing this style a little late in the game, and I can’t say it’s very interesting. The guitar solos are annoyingly jazzy over some old recycled NUCLEAR ASSAULT riffs. I can’t see that anyone in this band went on to do anything big. It’s pretty mediocre overall. The band name and demo title are pretty dumb. Why is this on vinyl now, and in multiple limited versions, some even signed by the ex-members? What must be a real labor of love from an aging member of a forgotten scene is unfortunately a record I would likely leave on the street. Sorry, guys.
With such a moniker, only a nincompoop could ignore that we are dealing with a D-beat band with a capital D. DISPAIR belongs to the category of D-beat bands that chose to adopt the prefix “dis,” like you-know-who. While I understand and don’t dislike the idea of dis-names during the first D-beat wave of the ’90s (although DISFORNICATE could have gone with something else, I suppose), the practice has clearly lost most of its appeal and charm some twenty-odd years later, and has arguably fallen on the wrong side of referentiality. I mean, why can’t you just pick the name of a DISCLOSE song? Finland’s DISPAIR has been going for a while now, since 2013 apparently, and delivers, well, D-beat raw punk with pissed, low-pitched shouted vocals (the singer also operates in the brilliant KERETIK). If some bands rely on blown-out distortion or a heavy metallic production in this genre, DISPAIR’s The Other Side EP intentionally chooses the (genuine) raw path of the post-DISCHARGE philosophy. I like the simplicity of the compositions, and the guitar sound is actually crunchy despite being too low in the mix. I am not a massive fan of the double-bass drum for the genre though, and at times the music sounds like it is plodding, and you do not want your D-beat to have that vibe—even raw D-beat should sound relentless. I am definitely reminded of a primal HELLKRUSHER or SLANDER, and Swedish bands like DISCOVER or DISPOSE could also be mentioned, but this does not quite work as well as it could here.
I was supposed to put on a gig for DOGMA in June 2020, but COVID happened and they had to cancel their European tour. A real shame, since I see this Ottawa-based band as one of the best in contemporary anarcho-punk. In our day and age when being “insta-famous” is actually a thing, DOGMA sounds fresh, genuine, and humble. This is not to say that they are reinventing the anarcho wheel. Indeed, they would be serious contestants in a dove logo challenge, and I assume the title of this brand new 10’’ nods lovingly to POLITICAL ASYLUM. However, while too many bands used the classic anarcho-punk imagery and references as mere gimmicks, not signifying much else than themselves, I feel DOGMA’s overt tribute works. If it was a drink, DOGMA’s music would be a delicious smoothie called “ANOK Bonanza,’’ and their lyrics, while relying on traditional lexical fields, remain relevant and tackle modern topics. I am a massive fan of their first album—its upbeat yet moody dynamics convinced me instantly, and it has been on constant rotation at home. As a result, expectations were high, hopes were up, and anticipation was tense as I awaited the new record like you wait for a pizza at a restaurant: feverishly. Disarm or Die is different from the first album, though. It doesn’t look different (it is bordering on the self-referential, maybe not the best call), but it sounds different, just enough. The guitar sound has grown into something darker and more elaborate, and with the reverb effect on the bass, there are post-punk undertones. But stylistically, DOGMA remains first and foremost a British-inspired traditional punk rock band—thankfully, as the world does not need yet another generic goth-punk band. The songs are as delightfully catchy yet significantly longer and a bit slower, which allows for more space to work on the songwriting and the atmosphere. I love the hypnotic vibe of the very discernible, powerful, and almost spoken vocals, and how danceable and tune-oriented, and yet a little wistful, Disarm or Die sounds. DOGMA reminds me of many old anarcho bands (duh), especially with the very forward female vocals and that seemingly effortless catchiness and hooks. Blend ICON AD’s infectious tunefulness, A-HEADS’ passionate energy, NAKED’s songwriting flair, and INDIAN DREAM’s moody catchiness, and you’d be pretty close. Did I mention DOGMA covers ‘Witch Hunt’’ from the MOB? Don’t miss this jewel.
I sound like a broken record, but Australia is exporting some of the best releases in rock’n’roll at the moment. Gritty dance-punk similar to bands like BLOC PARTY and ADAM AND THE ANTS, but much more rustic, raw, and powerful. Drums and bass are massive and everything is just so damn catchy. Love the dueling harmonic guitars as they seemingly compete for attention with the keyboards. Somehow with all of this going on, the vocals still stand out front and center. Even within the chaos of having six members, the music never sounds cluttered or messy. Great stuff.
Philly punks DRILL SERGEANT dropped their latest EP Grim New War and it rips; cool thrashy hardcore with rabid vocals reminiscent of FORESEEN and CHAIN WHIP. Each track here packs a nasty punch, but none more than “Cries for Justice,” which features an unexpected shift to powerviolence with blastbeats that are sudden enough to cause whiplash. It also features someone named “the Meat Man” on backing vocals, so you already know it’s gonna be crazy. Highly recommended.
EMISSARIES OF SYN, a band hailing from Conwy, UK. delivers a powerful message through their music, focusing on pressing themes like environmental concerns and human rights issues. Drawing musical influences from crust to grindcore, their sound is intense and hard-hitting, matching the weightiness of the lyrics, like a punker PIG DESTROYER narrating a Black Mirror episode. With a dedication to raising awareness and provoking thought, EMISSARIES OF SYN could potentially resonate strongly with listeners who appreciate both impactful music and socially conscious messages.
You want to have your face melted? Start fucking with EMPTY PEOPLE. Imagine MAN IS THE BASTARD for past lives, with Frank Marchi (REDACTED, AGENTS OF SATAN, PLUTOCRACY) on bass and Eugene Robinson (WHIPPING BOY, OXBOW) on vocals, while the East Coast offers up Andrew Hernandez (ASRA, TOMBS) on drums. Noise-drenched bass/drum powerviolence mania dredged through ’90s KARP and/or NOMEANSNO…shit is unlike anything you’ve ever heard. Respect.
I feel like I’ve been a little bored with today’s grindcore scene at large, and was perhaps a little nervous that I was falling out of love with the genre. Enter the UK’s ENDLESS SWARM, reminding me that the style is still alive and kicking. Quintessential powerviolence here; the perfect combination of hardcore punk and blistering metal. SPAZZ-like dueling vocals, heavy riffs, and breakneck drums bouncing between insanely fast blastbeats and groovy breakdowns. Very high-energy and intense as fuck.
EXPOLLUTANTS, a New York-based band, offer an acid journey through space with their psychedelic punk approach. Drawing influences from early SWANS (especially on opener “Failed Earth”), BLACK FLAG (My War-era), BUTTHOLE SURFERS, and RUDIMENTARY PENI, their music is a fusion of high energy and introspective exploration. With the theme centered around interplanetary colonization, their lyrics delve into thought-provoking concepts, taking the listener on a voyage through outer space and the inner mind. The combination of sound and thematic depth creates a truly immersive and memorable trip.
Said it here before, but I’m going to repeat it, because seriously, tape labels are the true source of today’s great hardcore punk—I’m tipping my hat to all maniacs who dare to release music, and these smaller tape labels who put out local bands are grabbing the essence of radical underground music. Previous Corona RX tapes made me excited to check out EXTASY, who turned out to be great, too. Pissed-off, rudimentary hardcore with a lot of mid-tempo, tension-raising flow. The songs are pretty simple, but they become lively when each element blends together. The lyrics are about a suffocating frustration, and paired with the raspy, shouting vocals, this aimless aggression fits well with the simple but bouncy riffs and tight beats. They remind me of radical hardcore bands such as CISMA. Tapes like this are the best—maybe the music will not spin your head with its novelty, but everything about this release just demonstrates why this is the best subculture.
I first heard this group on The COVID Collaborations, Vol. IV and immediately enjoyed everything associated with these cassettes—lo-fi bedroom projects galore, what’s not to like? Swirl Maps is EYES AND FLYS’ first self-released LP, pulling some tracks like “Cactus Flowers” and “Eyes and Flys” from previous singles. That said, Tetryon Tapes did put out an LP of all the singles in May of 2022, so you may see some crossover here. While the lineup has shifted somewhat, it seems Pat Shanahan and Biff Bifaro have stayed active in the band from the start, performing regular tune-ups on the motor of their shambling and be-jangled sound. Wiry, reverb-soaked guitars, shouted vocals that make me rock back and forth, singing along slack-jawed. Of the new tracks, “Empty Safe” is my favorite faster/rowdy track, while “Take the Keys” is a slow, sweeping reverie, beautiful in its own messy way. Keep your eyes on these FLYS!
To say “I like this three-track flexi” would be a total understatement, because I fucking love it! Effect pedals randomly turn on and off with harsh feedback, but it’s a welcomed addition to the whirlwind of hardcore fuckery that’s taking place on this disc. Chaotic, noisy, and pissed-off: Smoking Kills sounds like you allowed a crew of drunk, primordial beasts to play a basement show at your house, and now they’re using their instruments to tunnel out. Cathartic as fuck—we all have those days when this disc could be crucial sonic ammunition.
With a name like FORD’S FUZZ INFERNO, I was expecting something doomy. What we’re treated to here, though, is some good old-fashioned anti-war pop punk from the Netherlands. I’d say that’s just as good. Very reminiscent of BAD RELIGION and all the other classic bands you’re all familiar with. Nothing really groundbreaking here, but it’s catchy and recorded very well. Recommended if you’re nostalgic for the skate punk of the ’90s and have a hatred of armed conflict (which I assume includes all of us at this point).
A word of warning to anyone who dares give this record by self-described “mysterious” UK act a go: be prepared for a lot. Like, I enjoy garage punk bands, and if they want to throw an organ in the mix, great. Shit-kickin’, V-flickin’, overtly Bri-ish punk that’s boarding on faux punxploitation? I can get on board. I even dig dumb, cartoony novelties—one of my favorite releases of the year is almost exclusively about pubic lice. But as I sat blinking through the initial 30 seconds of this record, slowly realizing that I was getting not just all these things at once, but the maximum amount of each, it made me doubt whether I truly liked any of them individually to begin with. This sounds like a cockney Fred Flintstone fronting some Euro-garage punk act like the RIPPERS or MOJOMATICS, doing what sounds like a set of ARMITAGE SHANKS songs that have had their lyrics re-written to cover topics like being a sexy rock’n’roll frog, what it would take to make it with a sexy frog, and other frog-related shit. If that sounds like something that would be up your alley (or on your lily pad or whatever), well, here’s ten whole songs of it!
An exciting French post-punk band that describes themselves as “WARSAW meets WIRE meets the FALL,” and that couldn’t be more true of a statement. “Nowadays” opens up the party with an over-the-top energetic performance and a show of top-notch post-punk. The other side of the 7″ is a cover of BRUCE JOYNER AND THE PLANTATIONS’ 1983 song “Winds Of Change”. Weird, unhinged, and unapologetic.
When I first heard the demo from Nashville’s G.U.N. a few years ago, it was a “whoa” moment, the kind that compels immediate second and third listens. It sounded much more like something I’d catch on an ’80s skate video than a tape that came out in 2019, and the band officially had my attention. So, when I saw their LP was suddenly up for pre-order earlier this year, I pulled the trigger without hesitation. As it turns out, that sharp little four-song demo did little to prepare me for the misanthropic masterpiece that would eventually show up at my house. Wrapped in the gritty cartoon artwork of Reed Kavanah, the album is a refreshing blast of nastiness in the often too-careful climate of today. Brutish with the blunt force of classic BLACK FLAG, the music is audible frustration, loaded with riffs out the ass, and paired with a savage and satisfying dark honesty. The lyrics paint grim and realistic pictures, revealing the primitive thoughts and urges of the hidden sociopath inside all of us and at times teetering dangerously close to BRAINBOMBS levels of depravity. On songs like “Sadistfaction” and the punishing “Dangerous Game,” they’re really not pulling any punches, holding a mirror up to the inherent perversion and violence of our “Sick, Sad World.” If it all gets a little too thick, you can zoom out and disregard the particulars of the content, and it’s still some freakishly gripping punk noise. This is ripping, hook-heavy hardcore laced with an unabashed ugliness, and it’s an addictive combination, a promising debut, and an obvious pick for best of 2023 lists.
This album by Georgia psych-rockers GLITTERING INSECTS starts out with some jazzy guitar noise à la LIGHTNING BOLT, continues into something that sounds like early NIRVANA, and then goes full jazz with the addition of horns. This is all followed up with something that sounds like PUBLIC IMAGE LIMITED. Around the midpoint of the album, a pair of driving rock tracks emerge with a heavy DISCHARGE flavor. As if all this wasn’t enough, there are dreamlike, shoegazing psych-rock moments interspersed throughout the album. “Obscure World After Death” is an absolute killer song. In all, this album is an eclectic collection of sounds that have a surprisingly smooth flow which you’ll be hesitant to interrupt.
Oakland’s GOSH embraces the hate on their latest cassette Pig Skinner—three tracks of violent, anti-cop hardcore that range from slowly lurching to quickly pummeling, with grind and powerviolence influences appearing here and there. All three tracks are impressively diverse, but I prefer the final track “Synthetic,” the thrashiest of the three, which has a cool POWER TRIP vibe. Overall, a solid batch of songs that must be fun as hell to hear live.
Angry-as-hell four-piece hardcore group from Los Angeles. This is their second EP, following 2021’s Dear Heroes, and this double A-side cassette offers a litany of social and political critiques and downright condemnations. Themes of consumerism, billionaires, racists, homophobes, and sense of place get highlighted and torn apart during this five-song basher. Pretty straightforward HC musically, but I think the lyrics shine through and are really poignant. Lines like “It all leads back to shopping centers, touch screen skies / I’m terrified that we’re in denial / But we love the lie” from “Venetian Hotels” and “I looked up to my cousin / He beat me with a shovel and passed a bit of wisdom / Stop being such a girl” from “Man Up / Down” stand out to me, blending a sense of self into the issues at play. Not something you’re going to put on, snap your fingers to, and have a good time, but rather, it will enliven your sense of rage (if it’s not already at its max). Wake up!
There are only seven songs here and that’s a shame, because this is pretty great. Gruff and scratchy male/female vocals that really compliment each other when sung at the same time, over some decent, almost J CHURCH-sounding stuff. Apparently this has members of CANADIAN RIFLE and THIS IS MY FIST, which would make sense as to why it sounds familiar while not sounding like a rehash. Let’s get some more of this stuff, stat!
Here is a mysterious and minimal hardcore punk face-grater. An extremely lo-fi and mid-tempo demo of excruciating, warbling, abysmal punk and spectral voices haunting from the corners. Tracks include “Death’s Head,” “Death Reversed,” “Covid-19,” and “Futureless.” Bleak as fuck, and does not stick around long to check for a pulse. I can’t help but compare their tone to GISM, with the up-drive of STALIN and the bizarre hypnotic repetition of GAI. A horrible mess happened in Brooklyn last April that sounds like Kyoto in 1982. I’ve listened to this five-minute recording (presented as one take, but I’m not sure) five times now, and I’m increasingly unsettled and intrigued by the terror of GUILLOTINE.
Maximum energy German garage punk—think OBSERVERS, SOVIETTES, MARKED MEN, and the like. Every song is a damn anthem and I’m sold.
Lifting your band name from a seminal NAPALM DEATH demo is always a good indicator of what you are in for. HATRED SURGE is a now-legendary band that has navigated through several genres, from powerviolence to death metal, always leaning on the extreme, but this review serves to talk about their 2004 demo, where it all began. Despite its limited initial release, Demo 2004 has left an undeniable mark on the world of extreme music. HATRED SURGE’s approach to grinding powerviolence showcases their dedication to pushing the boundaries of sonic extremity. A visceral blend of aggression and precision, characterized by their ability to seamlessly shift from frenetic tempos to crushing breakdowns. The tracks are concise bursts of aggression, rarely extending beyond the 40-second mark, yet packing more intensity into that short span than many bands do in entire albums.
Roachleg’s vinyl reissue of early ’10s Floridian crasher crusters HEROINDÖD’s demo. Five tracks of in-your-face mangel thrash meets Kyushu noisecore, crossfaded with ’90s Crust War-style crustcore tracks. Furious, thrashing madness to blow your eardrums out for pleasure. Looks like all crusties did spend loud night in Florida. For fans of COLLAPSE SOCIETY, FRIGORA, FEROCIOUS X, you get the idea.
Sacramento’s HOLEHOG and Boston’s B-SIDE (GLOBAL THREAT’s Bryan Lothian) have released a white-hot split LP, each playing their own take on UK82 street punk akin to CLIT 45, the VIRUS, and of course GLOBAL THREAT. Both bands really rip; HOLEHOG are a well-oiled machine with crystal clear production, razor-sharp riffs, and an angry and scornful message: the system blows. Check out “By the Throat,” a D-beat-driven blast of energy with a great breakdown and vocals that had to have left a sore throat. Meanwhile, B-SIDE takes a fuzzier and more raw approach, with songs about the trials of living in American society, from our relentless bombing of other nations and our inability to think in terms beyond black and white. On “Waiting To Talk,” Lothian enlists an unhinged guitar lead and demented vocals to great effect; it gives the song a paranoid and eerie vibe that fits the anti-colonialism message well. Overall, a very solid showing from both bands, but I really have to hand it to HOLEHOG here. Their sound is so dialed-in and so clean, it’s a great take on the style and I’ll be looking forward to hearing more.
Anger and energy-infused female-fronted punk from the island of Tasmania, echoing the spirit of the GITS, BRATMOBILE, and X-RAY SPEX with an angrier Poly Styrene delivering the vocals. The two fast, assertive, and tough tracks will make you want to check out their entire catalog (especially 2021’s stellar full-length Syrup) or dust off your LUNACHICKS CDs from the early ’90s.
This is dance-infused garage rock with samples of lots of various instruments. The singer is doing a TOM WAITS kinda thing. I really dislike TOM WAITS. I really dislike this record. They’re from Brazil.
Wild thrashing fastcore from…I mean, Florida, of course. Raging double bass and vocals spit with a fury worthy of Dirty Rotten album comparisons. Take your local shit punks, wind ‘em them way the fukk up, and them the fukkrs fly—you’ll get something close to KILLED BY FLORIDA.
A three-song LP from a four-piece, all-female band from Melbourne, in the spirit of the COATHANGERS and the earlier, rougher version of SLEATER-KINNEY circa Dig Me Out. All the tracks have a tough, self-assured riot grrrl presence, with the masturbation-themed “Self Care” closing with a metal-esque breakdown. I’m not sure how the three songs, clocking in under nine minutes, fill out 12” of vinyl, but I love any non-traditional formatting of music. It’s like a teaser sampling to check out the rest of their catalog, especially the full-length Not Punk, Per Se.
French power pop punkers LES LULLIES are back with their second full-length album, a long-awaited followup to 2018’s self-titled LP also on Slovenly Records. Mauvaise Foi (which translates to “Bad Faith” for the non-French speakers) sheds the garage-y production elements of previous efforts in favor of a more deliberate and layered approach. Frankly, this is a big step up from the prior releases, which were already nothing to balk at. What emerges is an album that manifests both style and substance in spades. LES LULLIES don’t shy away from their influences, but their synthesis of ’77-style punk with power pop and ’60s garage rock yields results that are inarguably original. Their songs are hook-laden earworms that will burrow into your brain sac and extract your fondest memories of listening to the REAL KIDS, TESTORS, and the BOYS. If you’ve been jamming the DOGS’ recent The Melody Massacre Years collection, or EXPLODING HEARTS’ Guitar Romantic reissue, throw this in the rotation. You’ll be glad you did.
Lethal’s Hardcore Hit Parade is five tracks of noisy, raw, ferocious hardcore punk coming from the underground of NYC filth. Nasty yet aggressive, blistering hardcore, in the vein of the crustier side of UKHC meets the earlier, non-groovy era of NYHC, with urgency and the nihilistic destruction of ’80s Japanese and Swedish HC mentality. Full-blown distorted guitar sounds with pummeling drum beats and explosive breakdowns, along with maniac golem crusher vocals. For fans of VILE GASH, CREEP STARE, the REPOS, etc.
This EP consists of the first studio recording from Chicago’s LIFE SENTENCE, plus a four-track demo track that the band did prior to their LP that came out the following year. The studio tracks include their original vocalist Ray Morris, who is on half of the LP release since he departed while the LP was being recorded. Compared to the LP, the guitars here are a straight-up blown-out “chainsaw guitar” fuzz sound akin to MALEFICE or SHITLICKERS, or even what Kawakami from DISCLOSE thrived on. Blisteringly fast ’80s USHC speedcore. With an up-to-date mastering job, we get to listen to this beefed-up version of the original tracks.
I don’t know who Linda is, but my mistake was listening to this turd of an album. Take the worst of the ’90s RAMONES-wannabe bands, strip them of any wit, charisma, or musical prowess, and that will get you in the ballpark of how excruciating and awful this is. Most of the songs revolve around a singular, repeated lyric. “You’re Wearing a Bandana,” for instance, recites the song title followed by the inquiry “What’re you doing?” over and over. Longest 39 seconds of my life. Another song is called “Too Fat for a Belt.” Insert sad trombone noise here. While the attempt at humor is obvious, the lyrics are just too dumb to actually be funny. It is hard to express the unique and supreme discomfort this album elicits, but please don’t take that as an insinuation that it’s somehow worth checking out as a morbid curiosity. With the planet rapidly becoming a hellish inferno, it’s an affront to humanity’s future that precious (or otherwise) resources were expended to bring this loathsome album into existence.
With winding, menacing riffs and the acerbic vocals of an escaped mental patient turned carnival barker, Michigan’s LOVEBITE is sure to warm hearts and forge lasting friendships with their second demo effort. Driving and distorted, this is some scrappy hardcore scuzz that swings the ol’ chain in a manner similar to GAG, BIB, and other grizzled punk acts of the last decade. It’s a major step up in aggression from their melodic and post-punky The Last Thing You Want to Hear demo from just a few months earlier this year, and the band is tapping into a darker and more pissed-off power now.
METEOR POLICE has a weird, foreboding vibe to their grungy rock. Their guitars and lyrics noodle, rock, and crawl with a simultaneous playfulness and darkness. Two songs open with genuinely haunting riffs. The guitar and bass have a unique dynamic I can’t quite describe. The bass is usually playing a bit of a post-hardcore tune while the guitar sprinkles in these off-kilter, slightly bent lines. Every now and then, we hear a familiar HC/punk chord progression. That gave me just enough to orient myself between being thrown off balance again.
And now we travel to St. Petersburg, Russia to get ourselves a whiff of metal punk delivered by MORATORY, with their demo Fuck Politics Fuck War. Released in November 2022, though they’ve been around since 2015, it updates more speed metal structures in their songs and slows the tempo. Extra credit for the translated lyrics on their Bandcamp page, versing on anti-war poetry and a feeling of constant struggle in their sound and words. Suggested track: “Pod Nenasytnym Nebom.” Great soloing parts for the guitars and never-stopping drums for this band merging D-beat and metallic forms of punk.
Spooky synth punk from Oakland, centered around bass, drums, and sci-fi organ. It’s a mixed bag for me—there are a few great punk jams on here like “What’s on Your Mind?” and “The Mercy of the Law” that blend the gothic keys with gritty melody, sounding like the SPITS riding by a cemetery. “Stranger Walking Through” is the best track here— it’s got dirty, driving bass, vocal attitude, and just the right amount of creepy-crawl organ. NASTY WORLD occasionally reaches a little too far into the nether realms, like on “I Can Have/You Can Have” and “Nasty World.” While the vocals evoke “Cough/Cool” vibes, the organ and theremin trills end up sounding closer to Scooby Doo than post-punk or deathrock intended. There is enough here for me to look forward to their next release though, and I know that I’ll be pulling this tape out in October.
Following Nervous Birds! One and Nervous Birds! Too, this is NIGHT COURT’s third full-length release, and first time on vinyl. They are a Vancouver, BC outfit doing some indie-flavored garage punk, with a digital undercurrent as if you’ve got the headphones plugged in halfway. I don’t necessarily mean this is in a bad way—the slightly distorted vocals and synth/guitar phaser play well off one another. A mix of the SHINS and the PIXIES, roughed up with a lo-fi production, might get you close to the NIGHT COURT sound, for whatever the comparison is worth. Only two tracks reach the two-minute mark, so this sixteen-song LP is over pretty fast. Fun, easy, summertime listening. Should we be on the lookout for Humans! Too?
Raw-charged Finnish hardcore punk rock adventure—punk veterans getting into hardcore punk realms and singing in English, excepting one song. Songs verse on WWIII, contemporaneous systemic obedience, the spread of global terror, disconformity, and the Eurocentric consumption of underdeveloped economies, reminding me of the blunt lyricism and sarcasm of the DEAD KENNEDYS. They seem heavily influenced by mid-’80s punk rock, merging D-beat with classic punk cuts and cadences in line with the venerated UK82 sound. Seems they were having fun recording this.
It’s pretty funny for the guys from OG Toronto hardcore outfit YOUTH YOUTH YOUTH to do this “reunion”-type project and call the band OLD. A few decades after dropping their Sin EP in 1983, Rick and Brian from YYY are back to bashing out some straightforward, tightly-wound hardcore. The eighteen songs here continue the classic YYY tradition of calling out bullshit from various sources, but there’s a sense of humor present that they didn’t display back in the day, most pronounced in the name of the band and the song “Old,” in which they bemoan the timeless punk curse of physically aging when you still feel young. For completists, this will go nicely alongside the reissued Sin (and extras) LP that Blue Fog also put out recently.
A unique fusion of sounds here from ORTOPEDIA TÉCNICA, out of the Spanish province of Castilló. The majority of these songs are a driving post-punk with stomping beats that flirt with an OI!-type feel, but softer moments like the chill “Mirame” and the wistful “Rosas, Cruces, y un Cenicero” (“Roses, Crosses, and an Ashtray”) add depth to the album. Singing in Spanish, the band has a penchant for clean, anthemic head-bobbers aided by spectacular wailing guitar leads, but my favorite track is the infectious closer “Sociedad Industrial,” with its rousing chorus and warbled hook that eventually descends into a digital madness. Everything here is very well done.
For me, the all-angle, multi-vocal barrage is what keeps me listening to the latest release by PANDEMIX. With punk-as-fuck lyrics coming from every direction while the band smashes forward, it’s difficult to quit. “Pigs At the Trough” and “Scorched Earth Policy” are absolute bomb blasts of hardcore punk that’ll get you head-bobbing in swift order. A little more refined than previous releases, both in production and musicianship, Love is Obliteration still retains a healthy amount of hiss and noise.
This kills. PAPRIKA has the depravity and spookiness combo down to a razor’s edge. This is blistering, crunchy heat throughout each track of the tour tape. What are they drinking? When can I see them? These four songs bring up more similar ponderings. I would get it just for the “You Tear Me Up” cover (the beat that made DISCHARGE?).
Pretty standard hardcore affair, but man, is this heavy as hell. Grindy and doomy with a little bit of black metal thrown in as well. Very nuanced, which is important when you’re writing a hardcore record in 2023. Has a little bit of a Southern groove to it, which is unique for a band from D.C. Recommended for all raucous pit-goers.
This is hardcore, in case the cover art would put you off, although PIÑÉN most likely would not give a flying fuck if you skipped them for such a reason. Hopefully you already knew, since they have been around for ten years and have consistently released incredibly raw and genuine, super fast, vicious hardcore records, performed as a drums/guitar duo without bass, with a subversive message that also makes a lot of sense. Their interview in the last print issue of MRR detailed strict and liberating ideas of DIY punk, focusing on creating something on your own that represents you and your surroundings. They even questioned the point of putting out vinyl if you are not participating in the production. I am happy they changed their mind, but it’s still as DIY as it gets—the physical copies are partly hand-painted by the members, and the cover is probably drawn by them as well. Touch the dried paint and think for a second how such objects in general are manufactured in far-away factories and shipped across the globe via distributors and labels without having any connection with the band. In a way, PIÑÉN reclaims such small gestures that could mean a lot if you pay attention, which is required since they only care to create amazing music and live by their own rules, instead of aiming for artificial popularity. This carefree, solitary game emancipates them, making all their releases special even if they draw influences from early international hardcore bands with sounds reminiscent of the early records of H.H.H. and ANTI-DOGMATIX: constant blasting, thoughtful chaos and anger at high pace. A sound that could be easily redundant, but the quality and shortness of their songs, along with the microdosing of their whole discography keeps me wanting more, even if their records tend to take over my turntable for days. This time, the overall sound is harsher, which makes the record even better. Each hit on the cymbals is shards blasting into your ear, each riff is super tight, hectic, and creative, and those pissed-off vocals push all rightful frustration into my brain. The cover art, EP title, and start and ending tracks all reference Nicolasa Quintremán, a Chilean Pehuenche activist who opposed the construction of Endesa’s Ralco Hydroelectric Plant. Eventually, she was found dead, most likely murdered. She died because she wanted to protect her land. Localism and protecting what is important to you in your surroundings seems to also be important for PIÑÉN, and while playing hardcore/punk is not a matter of life and death, for them it seems to be a channel to release frustration and their message—we should feel lucky that they keep creating such great music. This record is amazing, and long live PIÑÉN.
It’s interesting to see bands revisit eras of music that led to the aberrant and still notable explosion of radio rock bands in the early ’00s who decided to tap into icons like TELEVISION and the FEELIES rather than, I don’t know, whatever SOUNDGARDEN was obsessed with. It’s a mine still worth digging in, for sure, and the results are often not radio-ready in the way they once were (it even seems quaint to reference radio in the age of streaming, but here we are). PLEXI STAD, from Antwerp, taps into a compellingly angular strain of punk that echoes the aforementioned bands while still sounding vital and punchy. There is sizzle to this steak and some real grit in the production that hooks you into its world of skronky guitar and mobile bass lines. It’s not breaking ground, but rather retreading it in a way that is worth tuning in.
This is a 2023 repressing of PRIMER REGIMEN’s debut LP, originally released in 2018 on cassette by Discos MMM in the US and on vinyl by Byllepest Distro in Europe—now the great Discos Enfermos has taken care of them, probably for their European tour. Think about the things you did five years ago and wonder whether or not you would put them out now. This is basically what PRIMER REGIMEN did, and it tells you that they must be satisfied with the material. Why wouldn’t they be? It’s a well-recorded, tight, UK82-inspired record, balancing between crude melodies and straightforward hardcore rush. Nothing is complicated on this record, everything is set in order, yet there is a tension that fills the gaps and elevates this LP from the randomness of Oi!-influenced hardcore. It’s great, partly because it makes you wonder how these songs would sound live. Sadly, I missed them when they played here. but their records make up for it.
Hard to believe, but an eighth of an inch delayed the release of this debut LP from NYC noiseniks PYREX. It was supposed to drop earlier in the year, but a printing error caused the cover image to be ever-so-slightly off-center. Rather than roll with the punches, the band opted to reprint and delay. Were they being a little too particular? Probably. But if you ask me, they ultimately made the right choice. These matte covers on the reprint look a million times better than the glossy joints that Mr. Total Punk has since been using as distro packing fodder (and, to be fair, the off-center image did look shitty…although, I’m pretty sure the image on my copy is still a hair off). Anyway! This record is some pretty hot shit! Eight tracks of noisy punk very much in the same vein as aggro pummel punks like LAMPS, PAMPERS, and BRANDY. But it’s not all just brute force—there’s some finesse to their playing, particularly in the RIKK AGNEW-esque guitar lines that periodically bleed through the din. It gives the record more of a nihilistic edge that’s not too far from the vibes given off by fellow Total Punkers PREDATOR. Also, the vocalist employs a screaming howl to punctuate verses from time to time, and it’s one of the best I’ve heard since Hart was piercing eardrums with the HUNCHES. Real good stuff!
Contaminas is a quick EP of simple, light, and straightforward punk with some touches of hardcore here and there. Four catchy songs in less than four minutes that retain some of the heritage of its members’ former groups (and cult bands of the ’00s Madrid scene) MULETRAIN, AEROBITCH, and SUDOR. Two-riff songs, a dirty sound, and short lyrics come together for an easily digestible album.
Do you feel lucky every day to wake up in this beautiful world? Then don’t buy this record. It’s not for you. This is a nuclear blast of hate against a world on fire. Sheffield’s RAT CAGE has been excellent from day one, but this is the most cohesive and apocalyptic the (mostly) solo project has been. The sound will please supercharged freaks who lick Swedish hardcore like a light socket, but the wattage is even brighter than even 2021’s split with NERVOUS SS. There’s been no mellowing with age, and why should there be? Everything is more fucked than ever, but B. Suddaby’s arterial screech and toxic riffs provide a perfect soundtrack—at times I swear this hits like Nick Blinko fronting DISCHARGE. I know, that sounds like hyperbole, but the ferocity and fearlessness to explore the strange dank corners of hardcore cannot be overstated here. A month after this detonation went live, the world had its hottest week in all of human history. Coincidence? I’ll let you listen and decide.
New single from Madrid-based RATA NEGRA, with a “very sad” (or Bien Triste) take on post-punk or indie-flavored darkwave (or whatever). Beautiful, melancholic vocals from singer Violeta are backed by the mid-tempo pulse of drums, shimmering guitar riffs, bass that hangs right up front in the mix to provide the melody, and a digitized synth line, creeping through the background. I must admit this is my first introduction to the band, and I am excited to look back on their three LPs, though with some quick research, RATA NEGRA has had quite the following, so I’ll assume my ignorance is in the minority. They remind me of the haunting melodies of KOLD FRONT who I reviewed a while ago, but RATA NEGRA has been at it longer, so maybe the comparison works the other way? This is another affirmation that La Vida Es Un Mus can produce little I don’t enjoy. Get your hands on this one.
Filthy, churning crust from Rhode Island—RAZED harnessed the greats on this tape. Distorted beat simplicity and raw PV bursts delivered with an ear towards the DISRUPT/DESTROY split…yeah, you’re gonna need this one, punk.
Here’s the thing—Volume 4. Love & Magik is a cool, sultry garage/psych slog that sets a mood and sticks with it, the kind of release your (grand?)parents would have listened to in the woods (if they had record players in the woods), and it would have felt dangerous. But here’s the real thing…it’s not as cool as it should be. This should be a transformative journey into darkness, but instead it’s a lurching garage/post-punk jammer that’s like, you know, pretty cool. “Black Mass” is the only real burner on the tape and it’s shit-hot, but shouldn’t that one be creepy as fuck? Sometimes you should be able to admit when you want…more.
At 52 minutes, this is a fairly long album—the fourth by REPO MAN, from Bristol—and most of its songs have a lot going on within them, but all things considered it flies by, and is decidedly further into the realms of jazz-lovin’ ’80s post-punk than organ-strokin’ prog noodle. Bojak, the band’s main vocalist, is a bug-eyed ranter on his own trip, and also contributes a healthy portion of sax and clarinet skronk; the guitarists and rhythm section can work with sinewy post-hardcore riffs or tricksier, scratchier arrangements. “Sirhan Sirhan” could be the work of one of those early ’90s Scottish bands like DOG FACED HERMANS, which is a huge plus, while at other times I got the scent of the NIGHTINGALES via the slanted energy, SWEEP THE LEG JOHNNY via the expansive rocking, and ENABLERS via the literary worldbuilding.
Egg-punk fries on, are you sick of it yet? Me neither! Especially when done well, as it is with this project from Spanish musician Gabriel Dolce. The drums are preprogrammed and buried way the hell down in the mix, in fact everything here becomes a bit soupy, giving it a blurry, psychedelic glow. This doesn’t sound so much from the bedroom as from a dungeon. It’s a merciless take on some folks’ favorite mutant offshoot genre that doesn’t let up, with crunching digital snare rolls and fuzzed-out-everything replete with a snot-nosed attitude to fill in the necessary cracks. So dig in, punk!
First of all, I am intrigued by the Kåthe Kollwitz cover art. If this image is representing your music, I’m expecting something wrought with sorrow and the cold exhaustion of struggling to live. So let’s get started! SABOT NOIR of Munich/München plays gnarly blasts of smothered grind-punk. This is ferally fast and raw, with touches of anarcho-punk and dismal crust. Reminds me of ANTISCHISM, ARMISTICE, FLEAS AND LICE, BODY FARM, SCATHA…lots of levels ranging from guttural hardcore to inspiring melodic punk. Most of the lyrics are sung in German, one song is in English, and another is in Spanish. The variety of emotional output here, flowing between outright aggressive attacks, is heartfelt and poignant. Post-hardcore indie rock parts will drastically change to anthemic crust within the same song. Several vocalists drive SABOT NOIR (“Black Clog/Hoof”) along. Seriously, having a black clog as their logo is one of my favorite details about this band. SABOT NOIR has carved out a groove in anarcho sound that is somewhat CAN psychedelic and somewhat PROTESTI destructive—see their track “Wissenschaftsleugnung” leading into “Sabotage” for this comparison.
If you’ve been wondering who buys every single variant of every single (and double) record that THEE OH SEES release, well, I found the culprits. They live in Vienna, Austria, and they seem like very nice chaps. Goods for Conversation is an enjoyable enough modern-day garage rock record, but hoooo boy, John Dwyer might have an impending case of copyright infringement on his already crowded docket. Within the opening seconds of this album, the singer lets loose with one of Dwyer’s patented cattle-call whoops (even the FX settings are perfectly dialed in). That vocal tic drapes itself all over this album like a bedbug-ridden blanket. Luckily, international law doesn’t give a hoot about such blatant shenanigans, and maybe you don’t either.
Originally released in 1982, In Rhythm was the lone record from this short-lived, dubbed-out post-punk group who came up in the same late ’70s/early ’80s Bristol scene as the POP GROUP and MAXIMUM JOY, but in contrast to the fiery scratch and howl of the former and the simmering funk of the latter, SCREAM AND DANCE mostly locked into beat-driven, spiraling rhythms with an aura of mystique that was closer in spirit to the RAINCOATS, if anything. The seven-minute title track builds up a laid-back, minimalist groove that’s almost all percussion (the credits reference bongos, sansa thumb piano, and a naal drum, among other things—definitely not the usual post-punk/funk sources), with doubled-up, sing-song incantations from Amanda Stewart and Ruth George-Jones heightening the trance-like effect, followed by “In Pink and Black,” where the spell of the A-side’s first half is only broken by some increasingly intense vocals that hit almost like impassioned anarcho-punk poetry over the droning instrumental rattle. Two versions of the hyper-kinetic and polyrhythmic “Giacometti” make up the B-side, where SCREAM AND DANCE really manifest that band name—the non-remixed take is up there with MAXIMUM JOY’s “Stretch,” PIGBAG’s “Papa’s Got a Brand New Pigbag,” and the collective works of 99 Records in the top heap of mutant disco dancefloor starters, total clatter and clang for reflexive body movement, and spectral, echoing chants that gradually break into uncontrolled primal shrieks. It’s truth in advertising!
An eclectic mix of punk, garage, and psych rock that culminates into an album that is rather difficult to pin down. Something about the off-kilter, pseudo-melodic approach reminds me of Hate Your Friends-era LEMONHEADS, but more loose and fuzzy. Curiously, SHIMMER BED shares a member with GREEN JELLŸ, the “comedy rock” band best known for their 1992 fairytale adaptation “Three Little Pigs.” How this informs their sound is not for me to say, but there is a level of proficiency at play that signals that these guys have been at this music thing for a while. Divine was recorded live in the studio, and that lends the album an energetic quality that suits the general delivery. A bit raw, a bit sloppy, but intentionally so from what I can tell. Stylistically, this seems rooted in a bygone era, blurring the line between punk and alternative rock. If in description that sounds utterly terrible, in practice it’s not so bad…but also not so good. SHIMMER BED is based in Los Angeles, and that makes more sense to me than anything else about this band. Inoffensive, milquetoast L.A. rock, featuring someone that made a name for themselves in the ’90s. Guess I pinned it down after all.
You’ve probably heard that type who states punk will be great as a consequence of some oppressive political force obtaining power—I would kick those jerks in the face. Punk is much less relevant than maintaining a living in such shit states. SHIZAN is from Minsk, a place that is fucked up beyond many of our imaginations. If I get it right, they are not new to the game, as ex-members of MASSPOLLUTION are part of this new group. The record title tells it straightforwardly how they sound, although SHIZAN has a unique touch to their hyper-distorted noise sound, and their chaos is interesting and varied enough to differ from most of their contemporaries, mainly due to the guitar playing with fast dumb solos and clever pedal usage. The tempo switches are unique, and they rarely if ever play D-beat (if anything, they are closer to the post-sheer-noisecore, pre-Stupid Life era of CONFUSE). It’s deafeningly distorted, but playful enough to be able to pay attention to all the crazy elements they threw into the mix. I had this fantasy forever about hardcore bands from far away, unknown places among shitty circumstances creating the best, craziest music. SHIZAN proved some dreams might come true.
I find this record pretty interesting, while not being something I’d listen to again. They play ska-tinged pop punk and dirge-like mid-tempo hardcore—FANG and CRIMPSHRINE is what I’m speaking of. They formed in ’94, losing a main member along the way, and picked it back up to get us to today. The ’90s thing shows big time, as I can’t imagine the kids picking up on this style these days, especially with rap metal moments such as on “Skab.” I could see them on The Thing That Ate Floyd comp or even a Party or Go Home part four. I wonder if they were aware of bands such as SEWER TROUT existing in a similar sphere and in the same city. Maybe they played together? Who knows, but luckily you get some live songs to envision such things. Check it out. It’s much better than SUBLIME.
Strictly speaking, I am not sure what to think of the name of this band. It is either clever and intriguing enough to entice the curious listener, or just embarrassing, too arty for its own good, and a bit snobbish. But then what do I know, I actually think PINK TURDS IN SPACE is a good name. In any case, I think the moniker works in this particular instance. SOCIETY is a one-man project from Philadelphia (the brain behind it also plays in MESH, thanks Discogs for the support), and Social Flies is its second tape. Like all solo projects, Social Flies has its own cohesive personal dynamics, and utterly reflects with accuracy the creator’s intent and vision. It is often a tricky exercise, and you cannot get away with a bad song by blaming the bass player as one often does. SOCIETY’s music is very lo-fi and purposeful and tends to have an ’80s avant-garde feel, which is something I am always a little suspicious about. It sounds pretty free, rather original even from my perspective. The music has a minimalistic feel and, with some songs openly borrowing those typical tribal beats, I am reminded of anarcho-punk demos from the ’80s from ZOUNDS or the EPILEPTICS, as well as the more experimental and versatile bands like the APOSTLES and the EX or even, indeed, early CHUMBAWAMBA. The primitive sound certainly confers an old-school vibe and, were it not for the vocal delivery and some arrangements pointing to inspired modern American bands like STRAW MAN ARMY (they are listed as influences for good reasons), I could have been tricked into believing that Social Flies is an unreleased All the Madmen tape. However, the cover is hideous, and I cannot see the connection with the carefully crafted, deceptively simple music. Other than that, give SOCIETY a go if you are curious or just open-minded.
If you’ve never heard of Denver’s SPELLS before now, that makes two of us. They’ve apparently been at it since 2013, playing alongside a diverse roster of contemporaries that includes both the SPITS and FACE TO FACE, and this LP compiles material from various tapes and 7”’s that they’ve put out over the years. Calling it “vacation rock,” the band offers a sound that’s simultaneously timeless in a classic rock’n’roll sort of way, and also reminiscent of ’90s rock/punk bands like the B-MOVIE RATS at times. More “fun” than “fierce,” it’s bright, garage-y pop rock that consciously keeps a goofy little bit of dirt caked around the edges. Closing on a high note, their dual male/female vocals are put to logical good use on the last track, a reverent cover of X’s “We’re Desperate.” If that sounds like a good time to you, your official summer jams have arrived in the form of this eighteen-song collection.
RA!D has the detached, clinical approach to punk fare that I associate with early UK post-punk. SPETTERS plays more conventional HC with a lot more downtempo slogging than usual. A bit of an odd pairing, but the cavernous audio quality seems like the through line. This split made more sense to me when I imagined watching these bands at the same show in an abandoned warehouse.
My first thoughts upon hearing SPIDER BITE’s The Rainbow and the Dove LP is that this is the sound of a band who’ve been around the block and know exactly what they’re doing. They check all the boxes: proficient playing, songs as tight as springs, and lyrics that are bursting with wit, anger, and humor. As it turns out, I wasn’t wrong. SPIDER BITE is comprised of three scene veterans whose resumes include OUTFIT, CONSTANTINES, and CAREER SUICIDE. Mostly sounding like a cross between BLACK FLAG and any of John Dwyer’s OH SEES incarnations, SPIDER BITE packs a wallop on each song here, complete with classic punk riffs and lyrics so dense you’d be missing out by not reading along. For the most part, they speak on the current social and political climate in Canada, and I’ve gotta say, things are sounding pretty grim (and I live in the States!). From beginning to end, I can’t really find any weak spots, but I can definitely say that my favorite moment here is the title track—a trashy, semi-slowed-down affair à la the STOOGES that skewers the privilege of a nepotism baby in the music scene. With mentions of minute-long saxophone solos and glorious Pitchfork scores, it’s perfectly sarcastic. If you’re a generally annoyed and aging punk like myself, this is the album for you. Highly recommended.
I’ve been a big fan of Owlripper Recordings over these last couple of years, but have only been familiar with their compilations featuring sub-minute tracks from harsh noise artists the world over. Imagine my surprise when this album (released digitally via Owlripper and on tape by Bastard Premonition) kicked off with nothing but a simple, clean drumbeat. I was being baited, but at this point I had no choice but to go along with the ride. The moment that blown-out bass kicked in, I knew I was listening to an instant drone metal masterpiece. Noisy as all hell, dirty, slow, and low. Reminiscent of KILSLUG or a much more rustic version of Bullhead-era MELVINS. Worth a spin for any lover of doom or sludge.
I imagine a lot of folks will like this record. The second LP from this Chicago act is eleven tracks of intricate (almost proggy) polyrhythmic post-punk that acts like URANIUM CLUB or VINTAGE CROP have made popular over the past few years. The music is smart, polished, catchy at times, tastefully noisy at others, with lyrics that take aim at contemporary ills while avoiding being too abstract or preachy. There isn’t much here that will rub you the wrong way. But it’s this lack of friction that I have a problem with. To me, this record sounds immaculate to the point of being antiseptic, impressively engineered but soulless. It’s pretty much the same complaint that I’ve lodged against another beloved contemporary art-punk act that I have to imagine is serving as a bit of inspiration here: PARQUET COURTS. Just imagine that band trading their affinity for dance punk and slacker rock for a love of TALKING HEADS and more overt DEVO worship. Again, it’s hard to point to any one thing and go, “That! That’s the thing that’s bad.” It’s more…well, I’ll just say this—every time I try to visualize what a fan of this music looks like, the image that keeps popping in my head is MSNBC’s Chris Hayes in casual wear. Does that make sense? Probably not.
Cathartic maniacal screams and great sound all around from these chaos-bringers and riot-exciters from Lisbon. Thrash mayhem of blackened punk with fast tempos and sick drum cuts that never stop and stomp on you through the whole ten-track course. This is the sixth release from these Portuguese mad people, delivering a fusion between blackened metallic punk and classic USHC cadences in an almost perfect balance. Imagine BAD BRAINS and MERCYFUL FATE entered the blender and got out ready to drink it all in a second—I mean a frenzied, crazy feeling. All tracks are rippers in their own way. Sick artwork on the cover from these sick metal punkers. Good riffage, good blastbeating, and the vocals ain’t a cut-and-paste in any way, with colors very distinguished in-between.
Six tracks of politically-charged hardcore sung in Spanish from Bilbao’s TERNURA. Sonically, it sounds like something that came out of the US East Coast area in the late ’80s or early ’90’s—mostly hard-hitting tracks with breakdowns, but also melodic at times. An honest expression of the real struggles of daily life.
Despite being established in 2005, the ARSON PROJECT broke the grindcore trend of releasing tons of splits and demos so they could solely focus on solid material, as this is only their second full-length. With the absence of modern bands like TRAP THEM that fused modern grindcore with other genres and created a demolishing sound complete with HM-2, the ARSON PROJECT fills that void greatly. A band that I would consider grindcore 2.0, as they take the blueprint of NASUM and make it their own. A solid album for the lovers of fast-grinding (anti-)music!
The DOMESTICS put a brand stamp on their specific style of hardcore with this release, like putting the best elements of old and new school hardcore in a blender: fast, raw, and brutal. Guitar solos are often stripped to just a quick pick slide before the vocal attack returns. “Purchases” and “Falling Apart” are both killer songs with interesting structures and tidy musicianship. If you like hardcore, then I guarantee you’ll like this.
This band has members of the QUEERS, ANTI-HEROS, and AGONIZERS ATL, and that is enough for me to have been slightly intrigued. Add to that the fact that Joe Queer himself recorded this, and I was definitely curious as to what was going on here. Well, what we have is some pretty slick-sounding street punk. I suppose this would be a good starting point for someone not too familiar with this type of stuff, as it’s not too abrasive—kinda like street punk-lite. Much better than I would have expected, for sure.
Just in case you missed the crazy little demo from Illinois’ the ID the first time around (you did), it’s back. This is some devilishly juvenile punk that sounds like it’s being played and recorded on Fisher Price equipment by mental hospital escapees. It’s three songs of gloriously haggard KBD action, and the increasingly rabid opener “The Kids at School” alone makes it worth a place in your tape collection, if you can find one.
The SHIRKS played ’90s-style, good-time rock’n’roll a little late in the game, but did it flawlessly. They always reminded me of the PROBLEMATICS, but also the RADIO REELERS, DEVIL DOGS, and maybe Sonoma bands like the BODIES or MODERN ACTION. Actually, I didn’t realize they put out so much material until looking at their Discogs page. Here you get all their classic EPs as well as some unreleased gems, possibly recorded for an LP that never saw the light of day? That’s because like all greats of this genre, they crashed and burned. DC never struck me as a mecca for this kinda music, but here’s twenty prime cuts of proof here. My only complaint is it’s a little long, as every song is almost the same tempo and structure, but I say that with highest compliments, as there’s only one way to do this, so why fuck it up? I’d pick favorites but every song burns. They do a great KIDS cover.
Brain-burning, face-melting raw punk madness. From start to finish, TURQUOISE doesn’t let up even for a moment. The semi-clean guitar attack makes the bass and drums feel more pummeling, not unlike Canadian D-beaters BOOTLICKER. The vocals are deep and burly, never relenting or modulating, so they hit like a bomb blast. Following an equally killer debut, Sang, Larmes & Râles is unbridled käng perfection. There is even a hint of motörpunk on some of the tracks, which coupled with the rock’n’roll guitar licks calls to mind another Canadian band, INEPSY. But don’t let all this talk of Canucks confuse you, TURQUOISE are Scandi-core through and through—inspiration from HERÄTYS, INFERNÖH, and TOTALITÄR couldn’t be more clear. In fact, rumor has it that TURQUOISE had originally intended to sing in Swedish, but no one in the band knew the language well enough so they stuck with French, their mother tongue. In any case, this LP is absolutely savage. A+++.
This is a four-way split LP of grindcore punk rock. I don’t mean mincing splatter grind, or trigger-heavy technical grind. Classic thrashing grind, the best kind. I have a few four-way splits and they seemed mostly popular coming from Japan in the ’80s and ’90s. Anyway, this compilation of sorts starts off with MUSKET HAWK (Baltimore)—think GRAVES AT SEA meets POPULATION ZERO. Grinding crust. GRIN AND BEAR IT (Cleveland) plays psychotic grind leaning into powerviolence like DISCORDANCE AXIS meets CHEPANG. SIDETRACKED (Tacoma)—holy shit, this band has extensive releases. I know I was sent their tape Dweller for review. These tracks continue with halting, wild earhole abuse like AGORAPHOBIC NOSEBLEED or CHARLES BRONSON, totally frenzied but denser and tighter than both. UGLY (Prescott) rounds out this day at the beach with echoing gloom-core similar to EYEHATEGOD, DYSTOPIA, or INITIAL STATE, but more to the rhythm of a metropolitan area collapsing. You’re getting a lot of grind/hardcore/PV bang with this well-rounded comp/split. We need more of these, again!
Here and Now, Thrash Tapes, and Vanilla Thunder compiled this four-way split EP (with MAXXPOWER, BASTARD COLLECTIVE, SICK BURN, and NO COMPLY), assuring that crust powerviolence is alive and well. Flaming fastcore and powerviolence are all to the front with BASTARD COLLECTIVE’s “In Decline,” the track that works as a bridge between ever-ranting songs on this abrasive, corrosive, and sharp split. Suggested tracks: “Fucking Why?” by SICK BURN, and the thirteen-seconds-long “Home Improvement” from MAXXPOWER.
The second chapter of Reminder’s dig through the lost artifacts of femme-fronted ’80s power pop and new wave from the UK, and even more so than with the first installment, most of the twelve tracks here could only really be considered “punk” by proximity—the BLONDIE-esque girl-group beat of SHELLY STEVENS’s “Secret Love” and the WALK’s synth(etic) pop anthem “I Didn’t Catch Your Name” could have easily soundtracked a high school dance scene in some mid-’80s teen coming-of-age flick that couldn’t afford the rights to CYNDI LAUPER, and that isn’t meant as a slight, merely an acknowledgment. The driving post-punk moodiness of AQUILA’s “Fall” (think the AU PAIRS by way of the BANSHEES) is the notable outlier in this bunch and makes it worth smashing the “buy” button on its own, but the sassed-up SHIVVERS-like power pop from L’HOMME DE TERRE (“Get a Grip”), PLEASURE DOME’s sugary, keyboard-swirled twee (“Heaven’s Daughter”), and CHOIRGIRLS’ “I Should Have Kissed Him Then” (crystalline new wave, with the added eccentric twist of a Casio rhythm machine preset clashing with live drums) are all sweet-tooth treats, if you’re not adverse to such things.
Finnish hardcore with a socio-political agenda in the vein of CRASS. Tightly well-produced and executed. Melodic vocals and dissonant guitars that come across angry and urgent, reminiscent of the HOLY MOUNTAIN.
This is the third tape from the German label Iniquity Records that I was given to review, and I must say that it is by far my favourite. More than this, I actually find it really good for what it is. I am aware the label is a small DIY unit dedicated to releasing rough, distorted, raw hardcore punk tapes for fans of rough, distorted, raw hardcore punk who want to listen to a tape of rough, distorted, raw hardcore punk to confirm the validity of their passion (I would argue that it is healthier than collecting Warhammer figurines, but I might biased on the issue). Joking aside, VEJAMEN deserves a bigger run. The band comes from Lima, Peru, and unsurprisingly delivers rough, distorted, raw hardcore punk with a Japanese crasher crust touch and, at times, a rabioso tupa-tupa Latino punk influence. I have to warn you that the sound here is rougher than a badger’s arse (and believe it, that’s already pretty rough) and that VEJAMEN do not mess about—this is real primitive, angry hardcore. Imagine a blend of early DISCARD, MUERTE EN LA INDUSTRIA, and demo-era GLOOM, then soak it in Atropello!!-era Peruvian hardcore punk à la AUTOPSIA, glaze it with some noizecrust distortion, eat the thing, regurgitate it, and make twenty copies of it. Et voilà! My one reservation is the almost systematic use of samples between the songs, which somewhat impairs the overall dynamic. I suppose you already know whether you are going to find it absolutely disgusting or thoroughly enjoyable?
VICE SQUAD was featured on a compilation, Punk and Disorderly, that was one of my introductions to punk rock. “Last Rockers” will forever remain an important song to me. Some of their first releases remain among my favorites. They were also prolific enough that not everything resonated with me. This release, from 1984, has a power pop base, but also retains some of that eeriness from their early years (think of those “ohh…ohhhhhh” lyrics). So, it’s catchy and melodic and poppy on the one hand, but then also sort of dark. The vocals are almost sweet at times. Whether or not you’re a big VICE SQUAD fan, this one is definitely worth listening to.
Like the LP’s title suggests, we are “living in even more obscure times,” and VIOLENCIA delivers a soundtrack to accompany such a feeling of malaise. “Introducción a una Serie de Relatos Distópicos,” the intro song, begins with a melancholic weeping guitar that could be featured in any of the LEVIATHAN demos, but it soon erupts into the mid-tempo hardcore grooves that VIOLENCIA loves to stitch up in their songs. It soon escalates into violent, powerviolence-influenced fast hardcore as the second song makes its way through. VIOLENCIA are the bearers of the political banner that Mexican hardcore is known for, and this is a super violent and angry record that matches the times we live in.
Some pretty fuming hardcore, with more than a slight nod to Stoke’s favourite scruffbags DISCHARGE. A veritable who’s who of contemporary hardcore with alumni from LOST LEGION, CIDADÃO, and FUERZA BRUTA, which should be enough to whet your whistle. Furious and scuzzy raging against the dying of the light. Good gear.
Formed in 1996 in Joensuu, Finland, WASTED re-records some of their earliest work here on Modern Lie. This ain’t no skin-and-bones punk, this is full muscle and gristle: “wrench tossed in the political machine” lyrics, bass bright and up front in the mix, with a combative rhythm. The band might sound like a darker version of NAKED RAYGUN, or something of the like, if it wasn’t for the clever, post-punk guitar riffs layered throughout, in addition to the poignant lyrics, like on the opener “Break You” where they sing “I bet they taught you about global wealth / But did they teach you about mental health.” “True Colors” has my favorite bass and drum groove on the album, while “Trenches” sounds like a call-to-arms anthem, not to be missed. Brothers Ville and Antti Rönkkö have written the band through six other LPs over their 25-plus years as WASTED, and they aren’t here to fuck around. If you need the last veil to be lifted on the first-world illusion of prosperity, tune in to Modern Lie.
This isn’t a loud record, except for the vocals. They’re placed right up front, maybe to highlight the lyrics, which continually touch on the theme and narrative of grieving. There are two singers, one with a nasal warble and the other with a more mid-range sound. I think we’re supposed to view the vocalist as a narrator, so this choice threw me off. Everything else has soft quality to it, even when the lyrics are telling god to “fuck right off.” The volume and temperature of guitars stay in the middle of the dial. It felt like a musical accompaniment to a poem.
Four songs of Argentinian egg-punk, recorded live in the studio with crowd applause added for effect. I would’ve never known this was a live recording were it not advertised as such. The sound quality is excellent, as is the performance—WWW is tighter than a hipster’s refrigerated skinny jeans. Everything is really locked-in, from the precise staccato drumming, to the clean, jangly guitar. Unlike some of their contemporaries, WWW doesn’t rely too heavily on effects, and I believe that is part of what makes their delivery so crisp and snappy. There’s just enough atmosphere around the synth to give the vocals something to counterbalance. The songs are catchy and over before you know it, warranting multiple back-to-back listens. Leaning more towards garage punk than new wave, WWW lands somewhere between PRISON AFFAIR and REAL PEOPLE. Another solid release from Sweet Time Records.
Like most people in their mid-thirties, I’m a ’90s nostalgist through and through. This full-length really should be my bag, with its sound that sits somewhere between SHUDDER TO THINK and the early albums of SUPERDRAG. On paper that sounds awesome, and there are moments of brightness from track to track. Ultimately, it falls a little short for me, largely due to some real clunkers in the lyric department—”No need for lyrics / I’m an OGG” seems to sum it up on the otherwise snappy “Up in Flames.” There’s also the production, which sounds overly digital. On that same song, there’s what sounds like software reverb throughout, which takes me right out of the experience. The song structures are solidly built and the vocal melodies are generally the centerpiece, but executed in a way that shines a bit too over-affected. The overall sound strikes me as a band that probably would have made a competent tour opener two decades ago, but I’d probably go stand in the drink line during their set now. And lastly, the more plodding ballads have got to go, such as the acoustic “Still Shining” and album closer “Shun It Down.”
The sole record from early Toronto hardcore unit YOUTH YOUTH YOUTH, 1983’s Sin, was originally a seven-song EP, and it’s been remastered and re-packaged by Canadian label Blue Fog with nine additional songs to create a comprehensive archival LP. Powered by amazingly tight, rapid-fire drums, the music of the original EP has a sharp clarity and immediacy to it. Infused with the youthful energy advertised by the band’s name, the songs seem to take a lead from groups on the Dischord Records roster of the era, offering an impeccably polished take on classic DC style. Lyrically, it’s very thoughtful and intelligent, sometimes sounding like a precursor to the headiness that BAD RELIGION would be cooking up a few years later. A sophisticated effort all around, this solid debut’s actual worst “sin” might be its overarching maturity. The bonus material, spanning recording sessions from ’83–’84, mostly showcases an earlier, slightly rougher version of the band. The first of these B-side songs, “Made In England,” is outspokenly anti-British. As he wholeheartedly cheers “E-N-G-L-A-N-D sucks!,” I have to imagine that there was some context of the time to this sentiment that I am missing. Jealousy? Anyway, this collection closes out with two final tracks that are more in line with the EP. The bluesy and then blazing “Blue Stain” and spunky “Domination” are a couple of the better tracks on the album, showing promise of a future for the group that was never realized. Fortunately, they found us here on this worthwhile preservation of an important little chunk of Canadian hardcore history.
Politically-charged punk that I’d lump in with my STRAWMAN and LEATHERFACE records if I was gonna put this on a playlist. Not that they sound alike at all, there’s just something about this that reminds me of those specific bands, especially the STRAWMAN vibe.
It can be tempting to write off bands that wear their influences too obviously; more often than not modeling yourself directly after another band’s style and sound can come off as disingenuous and cheap, like a knockoff of a better product, a “Wish” version if you will. On paper, PARANOID’s fusion of perfectly manicured Japanese and Swedish-style D-beat may seem like such an instance, but fortunately for them and more fortunately for us, PARANOID are masters of their craft and draw from their well of influences (VENOM, CELTIC FROST, DISCLOSE, and DISCHARGE) to create something refreshingly effective. S.C.U.M. is a whirlwind EP that goes hard right out of the gate, a vicious, evil take on crusty D-beat punk that is one of the best my ears have heard in a long time. “Shiminteki Fufukujyuu” (“Civil Disobedience”) starts things off with a six-second instrumental flurry before hitting the gas and heading straight to hell. In addition to all the hissing, fuzzed-out guitars, sizzling bass, raw vocals, and thunderous drumming you’d expect in this style, PARANOID adds some great flourishes throughout, like the rockin’ outro here that’s surprising in the best way possible. “Musabetsuna Kutsuu” (“Indiscriminate Pain”) has a couple of breaks that are nearly psychedelic with shrieking backing vocals, screeching guitars, and breakneck solo drum beats. “Jinsei No Kizu” (“Wounds of Life”) and “Sensou Nanimo Oshimazu” (“Sparing No War”) are two more scorchers, with some nasty bass lines in the former and tight, dueling guitar leads in the latter. “Uragiri” (“Betrayal”) is really the only outlier here, ditching the D-beat for a quick 30-second scorched earth grind of blastbeats and gang vocals that’s over before you realize it started. It’s a great set-up for closer “Taikeiteki Kunou” (“Systemic Anguish”), which returns to the rock’n’roll influence found on the first track. Galloping drums and righteous guitar solos wrap things up, and before you know it, you’re sitting in silence ready to take the trip all over again. Considering how long they’ve been active and playing this style of music, PARANOID deserves some serious credit for keeping things this fresh and exciting. It’s true what they say, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.
