Time for an update! There’s been a lot of decent stuff on this month’s CD. Obviously at Rock Sound towers they’ve gone three chords and the fuckin’ truth crazy, as the majority of punk rock bands on offer was quite staggering, so good work there for making one of the best 100% volume CDs of the year. Save Your Breath, Living With Lions, Saturday’s Kids, Attention Thieves, Goodtime Boys and Fights And Fires all get a drunken stage-diving crush for being awesome.

Taking Back Sunday – El Paso

It’s good to have Nolan and Cooper back under the TBS wing, god knows it’s been a while. Those expecting a tune reminiscent of the ‘Tell All Your Friends’ era will be disappointed; however, the caustic bite of Brand New-style screams and dense guitar chords, not to mention the spitting-dual vocal back-and-forths and barely restrained rage and passion sees the Long Island lads back in superb form.

There For Tomorrow – Joyride

Bit to sweet for my tastes; There For Tomorrrow tap into the big choruses motif, whilst injecting a bucketload of pop hooks beneath some well polished My Chemical Romance rock, that is about a minute too long.

Save Your Breath – Vices

This is better, but by no means perfect. Save Your Breath replicate early 00’s pop-punk fairly accurately. A distorted drum intro, the sound of a guitar being plugged in and some nice scrawling punk chords and the kind of clear, snappy vocal delivery that is perhaps nothing new, but certainly lifts spirits and is altogether a pleasant stab at refreshing the genre.

Living With Lions – Maple Drive Is Still Alive

Living With Lions have the speed and determination of Lagwagon – for this, they should be commended strongly. The slight gruffness in vocalist Stu Ross’s delivery, not to mention the rapid-fire drum beats and jarring breakdowns make this a winner in my book – strong, emotionally charged punk rock delivered with guts and determination.

Of Mice & Men – Purified

Not actually as bad as I was expecting. Just found out this is the ex-vocalist of crabcore laughing stock, Attack Attack! Yeah mate, you sound much better on this. It’s actually fairly decent post-hardcore; good balance between the screams and clean vocals, fairly bass heavy, sort of like Of Legends – quite thick and groove-driven.

Saturday’s Kids – Empty Space

I like the low-fi scrape this has – the guitar is one long relentless jangle of mangled chords, whilst the drums are buried beneath the smothering bass drone. Vocally, it’s a strained, almost lost shout beneath the building wall of noise and raucous rumble of sharp post-punk rock that drips with sweat and bitterness.

*Shels – Butterflies (On Luci’s Way)

I love *Shels, so prepare for this to be incredibly biased. Not only is this suitably crushing, like nearly every other aspect of their music, it’s also wonderfully moving. The almost choral chant in the song’s coda that then evolves into another epic rocking breakdown is a superb shift in tone, not to mention singer Mehdi Safa’s extraordinary vocals, which will send a chill down your spine. Also, props to the break in the middle.

Heights – Letting Go

What’s with bands having single word, plural names now? There’s something uncomfortably dark about this – Heights start off sounding like proper hardcore fodder, but they then keep building on this despair of fairly brutal, almost post-hardcore noise, that rises with such scathing and acidic disgust it becomes an absolute winner. Points for syncing in a mournful piano loop that seemed to creep up from nowhere – ones to watch; chilling stuff.

Attention Thieves – Can’t Say

Must have been punk rock day in the Rock Sound towers or something. That furious, punishing hard-rock of We Are The Ocean is given a big nod here, as is some rather tasty riffage and bouncing choruses; the lyrics let it down somewhat by being pretty throw-away shouts that mean very little, but the delivery is fairly profound.

Goodtime Boys – Harrow

Holy shitballs, this is Alex Pennie from the Automatic! You know, the yelpy little bastard who wanted to see Raoul all the time. I really like this; Pennie’s voice is a gruff, rattle of sneering dissent, whilst the rest of the band power through a twisting post-hardcore racket. Intense, slightly sloppy, but it all adds to the charm of some refreshing DIY punk fury.

Fights And Fires – You Can’t Say Slags On The Radio

Fights And Fires look like they’ve never kissed a girl and all collectively stepped out of a Games Workshop. Their guttural Every Time I Die-groove of blisteringly fast punk rock however is fucking excellent. Four Year Strong are still wishing their new record sounded like this, but it won’t, because Fights And Fires have nailed the thrash-meets-pop-punk whirling dervish of sound perfectly – glorious stuff.

Wolves Like Us – We Speak In Tongues

A filthy bass hum perpetuates over this. Wolves Like Us operate on making a gargle of rusty, angular noise that’s not a million miles away from the barren metallic rock of Therapy? It’s sinister, and unholy, delivered by a vocalist who spits and snarls with morbid disgust, but yet sounds as if he’s still having a good time.

Suicide Silence – You Only Live Once

Note to any deathcore bands – please, please, please, please, please stop making such bland sounding, ear-rotting garbage like this. I find it amazing these kind of bands still exist and that the kids haven’t got sick to the back teeth of it yet. Predictable beat-downs, and vocals that sound like someone is downing drain cleaner inside a lift full of vomit.

The Black Dahlia Murder – Moonlight Equilibrium

Dude from The Black Dahlia Murder has a hilarious voice. It’s proper high-pitched and snappy, with a slight hillbilly-ish twang to it. Like if Cleatus decided to front a death metal band. This has so much more going for it than Suicide Silence – for one thing, the drumming is all double-bass destruction, with some nice classic metal guitar soloing and thunderously overblown vocal howls that are gloriously GIANT HAM in their execution.

Breaking The Day – Hours (Broken Clocks)

That doomy, kind of drone-metal stuff is getting a lot of support nowadays huh? Breaking The Day make big walls of sound. Kind of sludgy in places – it relies on huge builds and crushing chords, backed by hoarse vocal barks and an unrelenting sense of despair and lack of worth. Hey, Cult of Luna do that! A slow burning, progressive chug of alt-metal that drips with sinister menace.

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Links

^up there. Next time, on Keep It Fast….

Mad Mac returns!
Probably an album review!
Some other stuff!
Yeah!

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By Ross Macdonald

Band – Touché Amoré
Album – Parting the Sea Between Brightness and Me
Label – Deathwish Inc
Release date – Out now
Sounds like – Aggravated, severe hardcore throwing itself at you with tearing ferocity and passion.

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“When your chasing brightness you lose concern with the damage done.”

What is apparent about Touché Amoré , is that they don’t like to hang around. Clocking in at just under 21 minutes, with a total of 13 tracks, ‘Parting the Sea Between Brightness and Me’ is an album you’ll have finished by the time you’ve travelled to work (in some cases you may even be on your second play through). This could lead to the argument of feeling short changed – disagree. The thing about hardcore and more importantly, modern hardcore is the replay value it has along with the necessity for the songs to be kept short – for them to be this snapping, uncompromising bite that lasts for barely a minute and also completely free of repetition or any form of chorus. Plus, anything that lasts over 2 minutes in the hardcore punk world is either – a) trying to hard or b) not hardcore punk (or at least, not the stereotype of the genre).

Touché Amoré knows the score though. Opener ‘~’ (pronounced ‘tilde’) is just under 90 seconds of jagged punk rock. It’s a jarring clatter of guitars and thudding drum beats, which alter between a traditional beat, to an almost thrash metal rattling. Vocalist Jeremy Bolm has a barbed, caustic shout – his words barked through a raw filter of aggression and passion. What makes this stand out from a lot of hardcore is how clear Bolm’s voice is – yes, he’s shouting, but it’s done with such comprehensible gusto and vigor, it adds a new dimension to the hardcore sound. For those familiar with Guy Picciotto’s Rites Of Spring; imagine that voice layered over something that sounds like them playing songs written by Ampere.

“I’m not the golden boy so don’t shine me on/I’m the bastard son of romantic Babylon” roars Bolm, on ‘Art Official’; a track that certainly touches a nerve with its quite intense and bitter longing. In fact, the entire duration of this album is one big angst-ball of intensity. Touché Amoré barely let up; rushing to cram as much of their tight and twisted sound into as fewer minutes as possible, yet the depth of their sound is stretched nicely through these minute and a half long explosions of sound.

There’s a sense of callous alienation with Touché Amoré, especially on ‘Method Act’:  “Have you always wondered why I drive alone? The same reason why I never pick up my phone?” Which on paper, might read a bit tame, but through the Touché Amoré filter and through Bolm’s irrepressible bark – shit man, they tap a nerve. “I understand that I’m fading….I understand that I’m fading away…I’d rather play dead, than play catch up…” there’s a almost resigned, disparaging tone to their sound, which matched against their dense and punk attack is quite a strident experience.

It kind of feels like Touché Amoré is acting as a place where the listener can experience some kind of depressing safe haven. On ‘Sesame’, Bolm invites the listener in to wallow “If you’re looking for a place, to hang your head in shame, the light is always on, so come on in…” ok, this feels like something you can really start to feel miserable about…then they throw in handclaps – fucking handclaps in hardcore. It works though, hey, it’s on a slow bit but the chopping and changing from something that resembles a bear roaring in your face to a puppy staring at you inquisitively is a complete curveball. Speaking of which, ‘Condolences’ changes pace completely, by being a desolate, piano-led piece, with Bolm twisting at hearts, with his scathing bark. It’s actually fairly creepy, but also a mesmerizing and despondent gut-wrench and a surprising highlight on this record.

Another stand out track is ‘Home Away From Here’; a very personal outpouring from Bolm regarding conflicting emotions surrounding staying in one place and settling down, as opposed to being out on the road. “It’s just I have this problem where I want to be everywhere I’m not” he yelps. It should be noted that this is one of several songs that incorporate blast beats, superbly with their dark hardcore attack and yet, still sound so clear and crisp but no less relentless.

The thing about ‘Parting The Sea Between Brightness And Me’ is that it’s got such intensity; such a personal and concentrated attack, coupled with sparse moments of melodic, early emo it can be quite a lot to take in at first. Believe me, it’s a heavy listen, but ultimately it’s a fantastic and rewarding piece of hardcore punk of the future and one of the best albums I’ve heard this year; fans of Give Up The Ghost, Rites of Spring, any early-90s emo band and blast beats apply here right now – you need Touché Amoré and their bitterness in your life.  

“If actions speak louder than words, then I’m the most deafening noise you’ve heard.”

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Links

Touche Amore
Deathwish Records

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By Ross Macdonald

Band – The Casket Hecklers
Release – Phoenix Rising
Label – unsigned
Release date – out now
Sounds like – Snotty, UK garage punk rock with third-wave ska tendencies

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It’s somewhat of an anomaly to find a band still playing punk rock with ska upstrokes. Back in 2001 to 2005 you couldn’t move for the amount of bands straining for a place on an already too-full line-up at your local music venue. Now, it’s like there’s been some toxic plague that has eradicated any band that thinks the phrase “pick it up, yo.” Props though to The Casket Hecklers, who appear to be resurrecting a fallen genre, or at least, breathing some fresh life into it. Formed from the ashes of about a million of other punk and hard rock bands (Punktuation, Press to Continue, Pretty Little Mutiny, skycolouredperfect, chaos baby, The Ghost House and probably Iced Earth); guitarist and frontman Joey Mutiny teamed up with bassist Roo Hyuga and drummer Ryan Cowie to create The Casket Hecklers. The aptly named ‘Phoenix Rising’; their debut mini-album, is the kind of release that harks back to the dingy, underground basement shows, gaffer-taped guitars, mohawks that touch the ceiling and an attitude that comprises of a middle finger. Limited to 300 (all hand-numbered by Joey), this CD-R release, complete with brightly coloured inlay sleeve (as well as superb cover art, designed by Holly Knowles) feels incredibly personal and at the same time, incredibly punk.

Opening track ‘Home Truths’ has a Capdown-vibe, circa their debut ‘Civil Disobedients’ – whether it’s the bouncing ska beat, or frontman Joey Mutiny, dipping into that same rapid-fire vocal technique, I’m not sure. “It really beggars belief, you’re an oxygen thief!” slurs Mutiny, emphasising deep seated resentment and disparagement in a song that’s obviously the musical equivalent of a man, pointing and laughing, possibly at you.

‘Man Down’ kind of staggers between Leftover Crack-skacore pick ups, with a quite melodic punk rock chorus, and a distorted, aggressive break of static and warped shouts, whilst ‘Severence‘ is pure street-punk aggression, complete with rousing “Oi Oi’s!” and some rather caustic banter. Perhaps the lightest track on the album is ‘Fires Within’, which bounces with such gleeful exuberance, it’s hard not to be warmed. The dual vocals and choppy beats, not to mention when it kicks up a gear means it has all the elements of something that mixes The Filaments with Captain Everything, but with an even snottier attitude – one that is more likely to give you a hug than punch you in the face.

‘Skank The Plank’ is part espionage, film noir in execution, part choppy ska upstrokes and almost dips into The Offspring’s ‘Come Out And Play’ before the gruff pirate interlude muscles its way in. The rest of the song then rattles along like something cribbed from a Turbo A.C.’s record – quiff-rock n’ roll lip sneers and a mountain of bad attitude. This is perhaps where The Casket Hecklers are at their strongest; punchy, raucous rockabilly that you want to bang your head to.

‘Comeuppance’ is a juvenile, scrappy piece that doesn’t so much shout revenge song, but screams it in your face with burning rage – it’s hardly subtle, hey, nor was ‘Prayer To God’ by Shellac, but both get the job done I guess. ‘Tethers End’ follows a similar pattern, but seems a lot more tongue-in-cheek, kind of following in the style of Aaron Barrett, by being both uplifting and silly musically, but being fairly downbeat lyrically. “You’re like an anchor around my neck to keep me drowning….you’re no good for me” barks Mutiny, his bitterness apparent, yet with that cheeky sneer of someone who sees the glass half full as opposed to half empty.

The slow burn of the title track, is reminiscent of closing time at your local; in fact, it reminds me so much of Sublime (especially the intro, which makes me think of ‘Santeria‘) and to another extent, the Mad Caddies, as it could quite easily slot on to their ‘Just One More’ album. As a drinking song, it checks all the right boxes – big soaring chorus you can bellow along to, a slightly melancholy, yet hopeful outlook conveyed with guts and sincerity by vocalist Mutiny, as well as mashing that Long Beach ska-sound with the scuzzy punk rock warmth of Hertfordshire.

If you are interested in getting a copy of ‘Phoenix Rising’; contact The Casket Hecklers on their Facebook page to get it at the knock down price of 2 quid. You can also download for free their cover of the Old Crow Medicine Show song, ‘Wagon Wheel’ from their Facebook or Reverbnation!

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Links

The Casket Hecklers Myspace

Casket Twitterers

Casket Hecklers Facebook

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By Ross Macdonald

Bands – Some Skeletons, When A Train Hits A Truck, Worselings, Fresh Eyes For The Dead Guy
Release – Notts In Space EP
Label – None, self-released
Date – Now! Available from the Notts In Space bandcamp via download or CD.
Sounds like – One small step for man, several giant riffs for rock kind.

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Back in April, a group of like-minded individuals decided to host a ‘launch’ party in Nottingham at the Chameleon Arts Café to promote all things ‘Space’-themed (so as you can imagine, ‘Neighbourhood’, ‘Female of the Species’ and that other song that Liverpudlian band released were featured heavily) The reason? To celebrate 50 years of man in space. They even roped in Steven Hawking for this trailer for fucks sake. Now, that’s commitment – what have you done lately, huh? Bet you haven’t run a successful Space-themed party and put out a split EP featuring 4 local bands, all contributing new tracks themed around the magic of….SPACE.

Also, the title of the event; ‘The Difference Between Me and Yuri is I’m Notts In Space’ – absolute genius.

There’s a rich warmness about Some Skeletons – their sound is a wonderfully crisp roar of crashing guitars and scattered drum rolls. There’s an early 90s emo vibe about ‘Author’ without it being too stressed and whiny. Instead, it’s incredibly thoughtful, with a heavy, Mineral-style blast of intensity at the start and the last 40 seconds of Amplifier space rock breakdown. Based around the lifecycle of the sun, ‘Author’ finds great strength, not just only in it’s noisy, alternative rock but also in the overlapping vocal melodies and jangling, somewhat scuzzy guitar lines. There’s a touch of Small Brown Bike in their delivery, as well as a keen earnest nature in the vocals, which at times sound quite fragile, but somehow work nicely with the swooping rush of their post-hardcore riffs. I just wish I could fully understand what the last few lines actually say at the end of the track; which reads something like:

“With the power to crush all remnants of my birth all through and into the earth” – which states quite clearly, how much some of us probably underestimate the power of the sun.

There’s a great sense of childhood innocence and nostalgia woven into ‘Making Spaceships’ by three-piece, When A Train Hits A Truck. The song is essentially about constructing lego spaceships, the trials and tribulations of following the sometimes less than helpful instructions and the nature of creating something to wave around your head and make “pow pow!” noises with. Musically, it’s a pop-punk bounce of energized rock that utilizes a good mix of overlapping dual vocal shouts, scuzzy, yet sturdy basslines and a slightly sardonic view on both vocalists’ abilities in constructing a battle cruiser out of building blocks. Kudos to WATHAT for writing a deeply infectious chorus; the soaring “we will fly through bedrooms skies….to…god knows where!” is one refrain you will have trouble removing from your brain.

Worselings sound like they’re trying to remove something nasty from the soles of their shoes. Not only is there a sneer in the delivery of their acid-tongued vocalist, but also in their music, which is fairly jagged and intense. It’s a stabbing, spiky rattle of disenchanted and quite stark sounding heavy rock. Their track, ‘Lost Cosmonaut’ is spat at the listener rather than sung, especially on the chorus, where the track title, is spluttered out through a strangled half-scream of disgust. It even starts off annoyed – “don’t think you’re something special, don’t think you are the first…you were just the lucky one….” with Worselings doing their best Falco impression of comic revulsion. The track is apparently based on the many unsuccessful fatal launch attempts that preceded Yuri Gagarin’s trip into space. Dense, Therapy? Meets Future of the Left metallic punk and possibly my favourite track on this EP.

Apparently, the handclaps were the hardest part on ‘When Gravity Goes’ by Fresh Eyes For the Dead Guy. Similar to Worselings, Fresh Eyes, sound increasingly bitter, with their music assaulting the listener in a much crisper, but still equally sharper manner. Kindred spirits – there’s some nice Drive Like Jehu elements present; it weaves and contorts with similar urgency to Froberg’s band of post-punk legends and the vocals are barked with that familiar spite and delirious fever. The structure of quiet/loud builds, not to mention the scrappy, noise breakdown halfway through is reminiscent of These Arms Are Snakes, especially the cry of “UNITS OF DISTANCE, UNITS OF TIME!” Jagged, determined and frightfully chaotic punk that scythes and roars with malevolent gusto.

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You can buy ‘Notts In Space’ from the bandcamp site here. Also, check out the Some Skeletons ‘Kypes | Pests | Throats’
 EP, When A Train Hits A Truck’s ‘Special Dice’ EP, ‘The Angry Hum’ by Worselings and ‘Triceratops‘ by Fresh Eyes For The Dead Guy.

Links

Some Skeletons

When A Train Hits A Truck

Worselings

Fresh Eyes For The Dead Guy

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By Ross Macdonald

Band – Arms & The Man
EP – Arms & The Man
Label – Scylla Records
Release date – May 30th
Sounds like – Your buddies saying ‘hey’, stage-diving and bro-core party anthems.

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Chances are those of you familiar with the Beds and Herts circuit will known who Arms & The Man are – or at the very least seen them demolishing your local pub/house/respectable music venue. If not,  you’ve probably been living under a rock, yeah?
You know how Pulled Apart By Horses sound like one big epic party train; all high fives, stage dives? Arms & The Man take that template, smash it to pieces, burn the ashes and build a party fortress on the smouldering remains. Despite the somewhat cavalier attitude as displayed in their press release, it’s clear that this EP is something that all five members have poured a lot of time and effort into creating. Yet, the three songs present on this self-titled effort are so cocksure, so laden with swagger and Henry Winkler thumbs-up, finger-gun coolness, it’s difficult to wipe the massive grin that will slowly spread across your face as the tracks burrow their way into your subconscious.

It’s a sum of many parts; bordering styles clashing together to create some kind of unholy raucous rock n roll destruction machine. First track, ‘Guitarmageddon’ is straight out of the ‘Gutter Phenomenon’-era Every Time I Die rulebook. From the fairly dense opening bombardment of the taunt bass and drum crash, coupled with the sturdy, grinding guitar lines, the vocals punch through the mix like a rasping drunkard, hollering for his next fix. As quickly as it begins, everything is shifted up a gear to a lurching and somewhat stocky clunk of filthy stoner rock as the vocals dip from enraged screams, to moments of sporadic melody and then back to a Matt Caughthran-style bark. Arms & The Man embrace a “fuck it, let’s party” attitude and seem to try and jam as many fist-in-the-air choruses as possible.

This EP is basically a taunt – an arrogant, goading sneer at other bands and you can tell Arms & The Man are loving every minute of it. “So I read the blog about your band man, and it appears to me, you would kill for the fuckin’ swagger that we’ve got…” roars vocalist Ben Davies, high on his own giddy boastfulness and especially so when he screams “HAS YOUR BAND GOT ANY RIFFS?” and is greeted with a resounding “NO!” from the rest of the A&TM boys. It’s fantastically egotistical and supremely awesome. The finishing breakdown and cry of “DANCE MOTHER-FUCKERS, DANCE MOTHER FUCKERS COME ON!” is a resounding slab of pure groove-metal beatdown.

‘Riffalanche’ twists and turns with such chaotic precision; yet despite its raw heaviness, it still sounds like the most fun in the world. Like Kvelertak, they’ve created metal that makes you want to embrace people instead of punch them. A combination of bro-core high-fives, with a hilarious poser attitude that oozes confidence from every riff, every drum beat, every time a proud line is spat, you just want to grab the nearest person in a bear hug and force them to jump around on the spot until they can’t feel their own legs and are grinning as wide as you are.

‘Stay Down, Hitchin’ is Fu Manchu-meets The Bronx, swinging from a slick stoner groove to barbed punk rock rasps. “WE MAKE MUSIC, FROM THE HEART AND SOUL!” screams Davies and you can tell the boy means it. There’s a touch of Baroness-riffage in the way the track kicks into a higher gear, sliding into a filthier southern-rock vibe.

So much confidence bleeds from Arms & The Man; it’s scary. It’s as if they’ve smoked a load of weed made out of Jeff Winger’s hair and ingested his “It’s clear from looking at me, that I am awesome” attitude – but the thing is, they can pull it off. Why? Because their music speaks it in volumes, through the impenetrable breeze-block thick grooves, through to the punk-meets-hardcore swagger, Swami-guitar licks and that ever-so-noticeable aroma of desert rock; Arms & The Man have earned the right to be this cocky, because not only have they got the attitude; they’ve got the tunes to back it up and it’s not only refreshing, but essential.

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Links

Arms & The Man
Arms & The Man Facebook
Scylla Records

Pre-order ‘Arms & The Man’ here.

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By Ross Macdonald

Band – Wormrot
Album – Dirge
Label – Ear Ache Records
Release date – 23rd May physical copy (out now on free download)
Sounds like – Face-melting grind destruction

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There must be something in my mind that makes grindcore so hilarious. The sound of a man gargling paint thinner over filthy guitar riffs and drumming that sounds like someone knocking over a pile of pots and pans is automatically the funniest sound ever. Of course, it can also be the most brutal and Wormrot do just that. In fact, not only do they do ‘that’ they take ‘that’ outside, cover it in petrol, set fire to the bastard, piss on it, then burn it some more. Then nuke it. Then take the elaborate metaphor even further.

Straight out of Singapore, Wormrot are a 3 piece (drums, vocals and guitar respectively, fuck bass players dude), and are absolutely insane. I had to check to see if they had a drum machine, but was impressed to see that an actual human plays at the break-neck speed that the band only seem to be able to run at. ‘Dirge‘ is their second album, and condenses 25 tracks into 18 minutes. Now, that’s fast kids – that’s like the Flash and Superman starting a power-violence band. Wormrot are crazy awesome though; stuck in the one gear of course, the gear labelled ‘this is the part where your bones shatter into pieces on impact.’ The vocals range from insane mental-patient howls, to snappy, rabid yelps, to hardcore-punk gruff shouts and then some standard screaming and then back to the psychotic mind growls. The drumming consists of a blast-beat intensity and blister-induced savagery, whilst the guitar work shifts from groove-metal (see ‘Deceased Occupation’) to a thundering thrash attack (‘Waste of Time’). What is interesting, is the way Wormrot sound so deliciously scrappy, yet there seems to be this invisible barrier encompassing their music, that tightens then slackens then tightens some more, every time their sound drifts into a near incomprehensible scourge.

‘Spot A Pathetic’ mixes harsh black metal thrash with snotty hardcore punk tomfoolery; as does ‘Principle of Puppetwarfare’, which mixes that stocky 80s punk attitude with a swagger of 90s dumb-meathead fist swing. ‘Butt Krieg is Showing’ is sonic-blast beat dementia fed through filthy mesh of crust-metal chaos. The vocals on ‘Ferocious Bombardment’ are akin to that of the wailing and gnashing of some kind of starving demon spawn; a fitting and rather apt title methinks. ‘Stench of Ignorance’ is what Minor Threat would sound like if they’d spent more time drinking and listening to more grindcore and spent less time being straight edge.

There’s a nice tribute to Napalm Death about halfway through ‘Dirge’ in the form of ‘You Suffer But Why Is It My Problem?’ At 5 seconds, it’s five times the length of the seminal grindcore masterpiece, but is a nice touch and one that the ‘Death boys would no doubt find amusing. ‘Back Stabber Mission Aborted’ splices growled black metal cries, with an almost Hatebreed dual-vocal bark and scrappy, thrash-metal guitar licks and that same relentless percussion that is pure savagery spliced with discordant thunder. ‘The Final Insult’ is the only track that feels like it wasn’t recorded after about 10 buckets of coffee ice cream, washed down with a pint of whisky. It’s a riff-driven stagger of chugging alt-metal that adjusts from a hardcore head-banging jerk to an almost tribal slog of progressive rock inside 109 seconds; making it also the longest track on the album.

‘Dirge’ is under 20 minutes of pure savage ferocity; that tears and shreds at your senses like a banshee controlling the drum kit from hell. Blister-inducing, chaotic grindcore done with such wide-eyed intensity and precision, it’s hard not to be impressed – complete air-punch brutality; all hail the rise of the worm.

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Links

Wormrot
EarAche Records

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By Ross Macdonald

Band – Snowing
Album – I Could Do Whatever I Wanted If I Wanted
Label – Square of Opposition and Count Your Lucky Stars
Release date – 1st April 2011 (available for free download at Count Your Lucky Stars Bandcamp for all you vinyl haters)
Sounds like – Emo

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I have to say, I love the American emo scene – the whole concept of the charming eccentricity of the bands involved. Basement shows; everything done through flagrant self-promotion, flyering entire buildings, attempting to cram 60 kids into a venue designed to hold about 15, hard-to-find split 7” that have their best songs on and of course, imploding after about 3 years together, fuck-knows how many shows and possibly a rotating line up of singers and tappy-tappy-tap-tap lead guitarists. It’s a warm, embracing scene, dogged by hardship in places (the amount of money these bands make probably buys them 1 cup of coffee to last them the week) but the amount of passion the brimming optimism their music has, you can’t fault it. That’s putting in the hours people, that’s working your arse off for not much, save for a few other like-minded individuals watching you blow out the PA at Mike’s house party at 1 o’clock in the morning.

So; Snowing are another addition to this scene; having been around since 2008, formed from the ashes of Street Smart Cyclist by John, Nate and Ross, knee-jerk reactions state this is SSC mk 2. Well….in some ways, yeah I guess so; but it’s a SSC who have actually bothered to get on with recording more than 4 vaguely decent sounding tracks, (although whether there’s a song to rival the brilliance that is ‘Kiss Kitty On The Lips’ is debatable) which have some gusto, time, dedication and emotional freshness.  What immediately springs to mind about ‘I Could Do Whatever I Wanted If I Wanted’ is the intense sincerity of the music that’s on offer – you can hear the earnest concentration bleeding from your stereo in every note and every fibre. This is the selling point of Snowing though; their youth; their optimistic, spirited outlook that they blend into their playing that forms the very songs on this album.

Opening track ‘I Think We’re In Minsk’ is a pinball of twisting sounds – it starts off reminiscent of a summery pop-punk song, but turns this on its head with the lyrics “at my funeral, no I don’t think we will meet again”; that steadily builds into a rumbling headstrong rush of clattering drumbeats and an almost progressive-rock blast of noise, before leaping back into the jangling, poppy-hooks again. The breakdowns are pure vintage emo, crunching chords and tight-as-hell bass lines, not to mention the highness of the guitars, which cut through the mix like a hot knife through butter.
‘Mark Z. Danielewski’ is again, superbly tight in its execution – somewhat muted guitar strums, alongside a bouncing, spirited chorus line that Snowing must know how to write in their sleep, with a particular highlight being the midsection of rising and falling power-chords that make me want to perform Slipknot jumps until I can’t feel my legs anymore.
What takes getting used to, is the unpredictability of Snowing and their way around a song. Their structure seems to be a odd meshing together of time changes and erratic vocal shouts – very much like Meet Me In St. Louis; albeit Snowing condense their jangled, emotive post-hardcore into 2 minute snaps.

“Relations….relations….well I have a new one….but I want the old one….then I’ll go out, I’ll drink, I’ll drink, I’ll get drunk…” has vocalist John Galm exposing, on one hand, a fragile state of mind or perhaps, a rejection-filled drunken haze, that is only fuelled by the heavier, more intense moments that has Galm roaring his lungs hoarse. ‘Malk It’ then begins to wind down, with Galm crowing, in a drunken slur “I wanted to say….” Like some pie-eyed, young John Cusack outside his crushes window. All he needs is a massive ghetto-blaster and a sense of worthlessness.

On ‘Why Am I Not Going Underwater?’ Snowing has written one of what will possibly be many lines shouted at their shows (“SOMETIMES I GET DRUNK AT NIGHT!”) – hey, it’s shouted just before it all kicks in again; don’t tell me you can’t imagine the mic being thrown out to the kids for them to shriek back with just as much passion as the band put across. Easily, the strongest song on this album – ticking all the correct boxes in some kind of emo-rock bingo card – huge drum roll builds, tappy, intertwining guitar lines, that jangling, rattling breakdown, slightly nasal lead vocal yelps, customary gang-vocal cries and a jaunting, bounce beneath lyrics that are laced somewhat with tales of alcoholism and dejection. ‘You Bring Something…No’ borders between schizophrenic punk rock, that pushes the tappier elements almost out the door with its frantic, disorientated speed; concluding as a 63 second blast of snotty, hostile attitude.

There’s some in-joke hilarity on ‘So I Shotgunned A Beer And Went To Bed’ where the band start playing the beginning to a Street Smart Cyclist song and in what must be a case of ‘just throw it in’ vocalist Galm, screams “MELISSA!” followed by “I FUCKED UP!” needless to say; it’s a charming nod to ‘Kiss Kitty On The Lips’ whether deliberate or accidental = good work.

“I was 20 when I had my first beer….it was a Miller Lite” croons Galm on the slow-burning churn of ‘KJ Jammin’ – a track, which seems to embrace the culture of getting completely blitzed. Is it a drunken love song? Galm cries for someone to drive him home and leave him in his backyard, whilst he staggers through the remainder of the song, his vocals (at times) somewhat buried and garbled beneath the high-end guitar twangs, which kind of suit the mood of this slightly shambolic, but no less intense, two minutes of slurred emo.

The sombre head-nod of ‘Damp Feathers’ is less tappy, guitar-flailing crescendos and more less-nasal reminiscent feelings delivered expertly by Galm; who sounds completely different to the bratty, scattered persona portrayed on the other tracks. Even the louder moments on this are completely alien compared to the preceding offerings; adding a certain depth and mature attitude to Snowing’s sound.

Some could say Snowing sound cluttered – true; they stumble over their songs, but it’s with such a tender honestly and this vibrant passion that they clatter through these whirling songs of emotive confessions and tales of drunken carefree exuberance that make ‘I Could Do Whatever I Wanted If I Wanted’ stand out from the crowd.

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Links

Snowing Website
Snowing Myspace
Count Your Lucky Stars Band Camp
Snowing EP Download

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By Ross Macdonald

Band – New Miseries
EP – I Am Without Me
Label – None
Release date – Now (available for free download on bandcamp/last.fm)
Sounds like – gritty, determined hardcore punk

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It seems big shoes need filling in the hardcore community. We all know who and what I’m talking about – perhaps 2011 is the re-emergence of throaty, thrash-up destruction? To be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised; what with the dominance of straight metal in the heavy scales the past few years it’s about time we saw 5 shirtless blokes in massive shorts jumping up and down, spitting soundbites about brotherhood and/or how fucking tragically moribund their love life has become. Well, I doubt New Miseries will be doing that, because from their facebook picture, they wouldn’t want beer/sweat/other bodily fluids messing up their stylish asymmetrical haircuts.

Right, that’s the rather tedious dig out the way, now on to the music. New Miseries aren’t doing anything remotely new – they’re more dredging the lake of hardcore; salvaging that old, guttural sound, rewiring it, slapping on a new coat of paint and seeing if the wheels still turn. The opening track (’11:11’) is a short instrumental piece; lasting just over a minute, beginning with a melancholy guitar tone and some badly recorded drum taps before launching into some crunching, intrepid post-hardcore stomp, which sadly cuts off all too soon just as it gets going. What comes next made me contemplate the thought I’d left shuffle on. ‘Black & Blue’ bolts forward like Hobbes greeting a newly home-from-school Calvin. The sudden burst of brutish aggression is obviously designed to knock the listener back; to wake them from whatever trance the brooding instrumental opener attempted to create. It’s wrought dammit – an uncomfortable snarl of scrappy, dilapidated noise. From the snotty vocal delivery, this never seems to let up, to the supposed slower moments, which still put you on edge to the crunchy, standard meathead plod. They even manage to throw in a sneering “UUURRRRRRRR!” for good measure just before the big breakdown. ‘Rain’ begins along a similar path, sliding somewhat into that brutish, fist in the air “OI! OI!” style of brackish anger. The delivery is akin to that of The Hope Conspiracy; the brashness and the fusion of the strangely melodic guitar lines (which are blink and you’ll miss them) owe a lot to Kevin Baker’s hardcore mob. The last track, ‘Deathbeds’ is a churning wash of sound, staggering first with pent-up hardcore standards, bleeding into a Hatebreed style beat-down attack, before falling back into the shredding whirlwind. At times, it feels as though it’s going to go all trendy-metalcore, which New Miseries skirt around, VERY delicately, however the overall raw intensity of this demo, as well as the muddy hardcore guitar lines gives it at least some heart and passionate determination that this Pennsylvania five-piece have in bucketloads. ‘I Am Without Me’ is a promising and gutsy start.

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Links

New Miseries
New Miseries Bandcamp

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By Ross Macdonald

Band – Diamonds
Release – An Introduction EP
Label – Unsigned
Release date – Out now
Sounds like – disco punk thrown at a wall via feedback and the sound of a breakdown.

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On about the 3rd listen through of ‘An Introduction’ the debut EP from Birmingham’s Diamonds and I’m still not sure exactly what is going on. The impression is a load of kids discovering instruments for the first time and having a ‘see who can play the loudest and fastest’ competition. It then begins to evolve – your ears begin to adapt to what is going on and it starts to fit together like a jigsaw with half the pieces missing, some of which have been replaced by lego and stickle bricks.

Originally Diamonds started out as a grind band (thanks press release!) but adding a bass player means you have to change your sound apparently (should have got a sampler dude) and actually construct songs over a minute in length that don’t involve inhuman wailing and possible vomiting. Their sound now is…well….scattered would be the best term to use. The basic structure gives a now towards Seattle’s The Blood Brothers, in both vocal delivery and the harsh, staccato post-punk racket that opening track ‘Incinerate the Incinerator’ incorporates. It skips under an almost jazzy beat and tappy drum patterns before lurching into this scuzzy breakdown of messy riffs and drum rolls which clatter their sound to pieces. The vocals switch from this weird yappy almost preppy delivery, to a strained squawking shriek, before dipping into an echoing, hollow wail beneath this almost grinding, lurch of post-hardcore noise. The scrappy, dilapidated sound is akin to that of Cap N’ Jazz in places, especially the drums, whilst the vocals give a nod towards the slight nasal tone of Tim Kinsella and his part-bird part terrified mouse vocal delivery.

‘Cheers De Beers’ follows this skipping, bouncing jazz-beat that stops and starts thanks to the inclusion of somewhat misplaced but appreciated breakdowns in-between, which crunch and stutter between the odd vocal wails. Credit to the bassist who not only holds the song together, but even has time to deviate from the tune to throw in odd time signatures. The stabbing punch of the break at the minute mark falls almost into noise rock territory of churning yet dense power. Diamonds’ vocalist Nathan then tries in vain to scream over the top (and succeeds, doing an impressive Jordan Blilie meets Keith Buckley roar) as it descends into this harsh, messy post-hardcore meets spazzcore nuance.

The opening yapping on ‘The Nightlife Raped The Stourbridge Skeleton’ is akin to that of a puppy that has been chucked in a tumbledryer on a high spin cycle, whilst the owner listens to Fugazi at a deafening volume. The drumming is pure Locust-cymbal crashes and rolling rasp, whilst the main body of this chorus-free 2 minutes, gives a direct nod towards Bedford’s Ice, Sea, Dead People in terms of trashy exuberance and cocky attitude.

Diamonds are difficult to pin down – they’re like a cat that won’t sit still and take an injection – playful and happy one minute, then it’s all spitting, hissing and snarling. Some of the guitar work still retains their old, apparently grind sound – it’s harsh, scratching nature can be heard on ‘Incinerate the Incinerator’ quite clearly, whilst the bass balances this out by being the cleanest sounding instrument in the whole band; despite everything sounding incredibly scrappy but delightfully fresh.

Diamonds have apparently recorded a debut album called ‘Girls Best Friends’ which has been mastered by Rory Bratwell, (aka him from Test Icicles), so expect to hear this aural chaos sometime this year.

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Links

Diamonds Myspace

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By Ross Macdonald

Band – Damages
Album – Love’s Labor
Label – Life To Live Records
Release date – Out Now
Sounds like – dirty hardcore with a distinctive voice and intense torment.

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I can see listening to hardcore in 2011 becoming increasingly difficult, what with Kvelertak’s self-titled album having such an impact on my opinions and take on the genre. It’s not as if I’ve been brainwashed; but the desire to listen to something infused with rage, Thin Lizzy riffs and incomprehensible Norwegian lyrics about chugging mead becomes stronger and stronger with each passing day.

Thank god then for hardcore upstarts Damages, who actually tap into that part of my brain that has the fondness for that fist in the air, blaring pomposity of brash relentless noise. Damages hail from Grand Rapids, Michigan and they see the concept of melody and tune as something reserved for lesser, inferior bands.
Those still mourning the loss of Give Up The Ghost (come on people, it’s been 6 years, move on!) and grind/thrash noisemakers, Some Girls (also defunct) will not be disappointed by Damages. In fact, you’ll probably be fairly bemused, scouring the internet to find if Wes Eisold (vocalist of GUTG and Some Girls) has started a new band under this moniker. Basically, there’s not much in it regarding the vocals – which are pretty much a spot on Wes Eisold in delivery and pure guttural determination.  There’s even a fair helping of the rage and utter turmoil in the lyrics, which read like a disgusted, hate-filled book of face-punching poetry. Personal favourite being on the EP title track;

“I wish that I could just forget: all the fucks that I regret. /Waking up in a cold sweat./The weight of unpaid debt.”

This is the kind of venom-spitting, sneering diatribe that a lot and I mean A LOT of current hardcore is missing. Yeah, we’re all bonded by brotherhood, so what? You can write about trust and loyalty until you get stampeded by a load of cows seeking home; the fact is, real actual passion and emotion without having to suffer THAT tag is difficult to come by and requires talent to write something that is going to genuinely reach out to people. Damages do that – the freely admit Give Up The Ghost as being a direct influence, which is fine – the similarities stick out like a sore thumb – but in doing this, they’re opening up a new gateway to hardcore that isn’t all about meathead throwdowns and windmilling chuckleheads; but nor is it about sitting in your room, crying all your black mascara down your face.

‘Love’s Labor’ has a fairly brazen attitude about it – that cocky swagger of indifference to it’s peers and a fearless ability to show off. ‘Frowning Fortune’ for instance, starts with a rumbling bass gurgle and then batters forward without any subtlety in a complete overblown blast of thrashy punk rock abhorrence and this heavy, dragging churn of reluctance to finish. I can’t make up my mind if ‘T.S.B.T.E.H.A.M’ is in essence, an angry suicide note, full of resignation, or just a fancy hate letter written by someone with a victim complex. The lines stating:“this is an invitation to a pity party, but before you R.S.V.P. please take an inventory of the worst things you’ve done to me” and then it goes on to list the grievances caused by the target.
‘The Prisoner’ operates as a standard trash-hardcore torrent of noise, as instruments clatter into each other in a desperate, frustrated race to finish before the next vocal roar. Excellent use of gang vocals on the words ‘HATE’ and ‘LOVE’.
Despite the emo-tastic title ‘Dreamt a Little Dream Of You’; the song is in fact a dense, claustrophobic barrage of woe transformed into something resembling hope. The lines “…make me a person that I have never been by bringing me peace with the sand in your hands…” gives a nod towards desiring change and some absolution for former misgivings. ‘Desperate Decline’ channels the feral nature of The Hope Conspiracy jamming with Poison The Well, whilst employing dishevelled breakdowns and some truly incessant drumming and distorted vocals, whilst the guitars actually groove and slide before turning down the pathway of chugging freedom.

It’s not an easy listen; but ‘Love’s Labor‘ is a savage, yet passionate affair, laced with trouble – it’s a hark back to when hardcore punk had that spirit and persistence; that air of a sweaty, unkempt basement show, populated by high fives, stage dives and making music from the hellbound heart.

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Links

Damages Myspace
Damages Live Journal
Life To Live Big Cartel

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By Ross Macdonald