New York City’s Nisemono 偽者 bring Japanese hardcore and Scandinavian d-beat together with the kind of guitar work that made last year’s excellent self-titled LP such a pleasure to listen to. They began as a recording project between Tye and Ryan, known from Nomad, Warthog, Dollhouse, and L.O.T.I.O.N., among many others, and have since become a trio with Kyoko, formerly of the long-running, Clockwork Orange-inspired Japanese punk band Hat Trickers, on bass.

Their new EP, 目の前で大虐殺を目撃した後、どうすればこの世界で、これまで通りに生き続けていけるというのか？ (After witnessing a genocide, how can you continue to live in this world as you have been?), arrived through Toxic State Records on October 23, 2026, following last year’s LP on the same label. It caught us by surprise; it’s four raging songs in just over six minutes, and already one of our favorite EPs of the year.

We spoke with vocalist and guitarist Tye Miller about the band, the political message of the new songs, and our shared love of Japanese hardcore punk and some of its contradictions. As this interview goes live, Nisemono are kicking off a short tour on home turf in NYC before flying to the UK and Barcelona for a handful of shows. If you’re lucky enough to live near one of their European stops, go check them out.

Nisemono started as a project between Ryan and Tye. You were then joined by Kyoko, if I’ve got that right. Can you walk us through the band’s history?

Nisemono started in 2021. I was bored during COVID and started writing some songs in a similar vein to my old band Nomad. I sent the songs I was working on to Ryan, who I play together with in L.O.T.I.O.N., and we released those songs as a demo later that year. After that received some positive reception, we wrote some more songs and released the LP, which came out in 2025.

After the release of the LP, we decided to play a live show. We recruited Kyoko on bass; she had recently moved to the US from Japan. We have been playing shows together for a little over a year and wrote and recorded the most recent EP together.

Your EP’s title asks how we can carry on living as before after witnessing a genocide. Amid all the death, destruction, and injustice in the world, some people put their bodies on the line. Music and art offer another kind of connection, perhaps a more emotional one. Do you think everyone with access to a stage and a microphone today, whether underground or mainstream, has a responsibility to use that platform to speak out?

Yes, I think any small action a person can take should be taken. It’s about doing the little things and the small changes we can control.

Have you seen the film Naza? I haven’t watched it yet, but your new EP got me thinking about the discussions surrounding it. We have access to so much footage and testimony, yet seeing what’s happening can leave us feeling powerless rather than equipped to intervene.

I have not seen the film in full, but I am aware of its contents. We have been watching a live-streamed genocide for three years as of this writing. It has been horrific. I think many people like myself have experienced a range of emotions, including shock, horror, anger, despair, and hopelessness. I think it is human to have these feelings.

However, I think it is important, especially for those of us living in the West, to keep in mind that wallowing in hopelessness will accomplish nothing. People are dying in large numbers and that is unacceptable.

“軍国主義” calls for pacifism and an end to militarism. What does pacifism mean to you in practice, and how does it inform the choices you make when supporting social movements, boycotts, pressure campaigns, etc.?

軍国主義, or “gunkokushugi,” means militarism. Militarism is the political philosophy by which the imperialist powers utilize their military might, or the threat of that military might, to maintain or expand their global hegemony, territory, financial interests, etc. Pacifism is the antithesis of militarism.

“残酷” brings war, poverty, and suffering together in a few words. What connections do you see between the violence addressed on this record and everyday life in New York? How do you assess Mamdani’s time as mayor so far? What did you make of his participation in the October 7 commemorations and the criticism it drew from Palestine solidarity activists?

I have spent several years working in the world of tenant and disability rights in New York City. The number of people who are one step away from homelessness or who lack access to the resources they need to survive in this city is staggering. The connection between this and the violence addressed on the record is that these are both problems manufactured by a handful of people with wealth and power, while the rest either suffer or struggle just to survive.

It’s a bit difficult to make a determination of how the mayor is doing as he has been mayor for less than a year. However, some of his choices concerning issues of tenants’ rights, failure to prevent the NYPD from working with ICE in NYC, and the recent October 7 commemorations are, in my opinion, justified criticisms.

How did you first get drawn into the cult around Japanese hardcore punk? The internet and social media have made it much easier to discover, and now you can find people on Reddit discussing all kind of obscure Japanese punk. How do you think that accessibility has changed the way people discover and relate to underground music?

Being a Japanese person who was living in the West when I got into punk, I immediately felt a connection with Japanese punk bands as soon as I discovered them. Bands like Confuse, The Stalin, and Disclose were massive influences on me when I was in high school.

When I was a teenager, tape trading and word of mouth were the main ways of hearing about underground punk bands. Then, blogs started popping up posting about bands that I had never heard of that I fell in love with.

In my opinion, the more accessible this music is, the better. Punk is for anyone who feels like an outsider, who can see that there is something wrong with the world and wants to find a community that they can connect with.

Sharing the stage with Death Side at the Bowery Ballroom for their first NYC show in ten years must have been something special. I heard they also had some trouble with passports or entry paperwork, which wouldn’t surprise me given the current US government. What happened, and was there a point when you thought they might not come?

I am not in Death Side, so I have no personal knowledge of the facts and circumstances concerning the issues they had coming into the United States. What I can confirm is (1) our friend Joe B filled in on drums because the drummer was not able to get into the country, (2) the singer said this would be their last performance in the United States, and (3) they put on a great show.

Big metal labels like Relapse have reissued records by GISM, Zouo, and Lip Cream, introducing Japanese punk to people who listen to more mainstream metal and hardcore. Do you see value in bringing the records to a wider audience, or does it feel like a money grab by labels that don’t care much about the scene and its ethics?

I am not really familiar with these represses or the financial aspect, but how much money can these labels possibly be making off of Zouo? Again, as mentioned above, the more accessible this stuff is, the better in my opinion.

Personally, I’m not a GISM fan. I think most of their music is absolute shit, and I think plenty of people wear GISM patches for the aesthetics and provocation without really listening to their records either. Then there’s the whole mythology around Sakevi and the stories of violence, which seem to get celebrated as part of the appeal. There are also allegations about his right-wing conspiracy theories, etc. Do you think Japanese punk sometimes gets an exemption from the political scrutiny we’d apply to bands closer to home?

I am not a huge GISM fan myself for some of the reasons you mentioned above. However, I am not sure this is a unique issue to Japanese bands. I can’t think of another Japanese punk band that should be subject to scrutiny for its “sketchy” political stance. I can, however, think of plenty of punk, metal, and “extreme” music bands from places like the United States and Europe who are either apolitical or “sketchy” that people seem to enjoy without issue.

What are your all-time favorite Japanese hardcore punk records, and which current bands, both in Japan and elsewhere, do you think keep that spirit alive?

For me, Confuse, Death Side, Disclose, Gloom, and Framtid are probably my favorites. In terms of current bands: Framtid, Ferocious X, Skizophrenia, Stagnation, and Raw Distractions are some favorites.

There are too many bands to mention worldwide; we should all consider ourselves lucky that there are so many bands that are active and playing, writing, and recording great music.

What makes hardcore punk and DIY culture important today? When bands reach a more mainstream audience and compromise their DIY ethics along the way, should we be more critical, or is there room to be more open-minded about those choices? What do you think about using corporate platforms like Instagram, TikTok, Spotify, and YouTube to share and promote punk music and culture?

I got into punk by watching Rancid and Green Day music videos on MTV. I cannot stress enough the importance these bands had in acting as a gateway to so much more for me. If a newer band like Turnstile or Angel Du$t does the same for someone who is a kid now, I say that’s great.

Like I said before, punk should be for anyone who shares the values of what punk is about. It would be a shame if a person didn’t find something that might help guide them through life just because there wasn’t anyone in their high school to show them.

I abhor the corporate platforms we use to connect and share our music and I wish there was an alternative. But I think the issue goes back to accessibility; those platforms are how people connect and hear music these days and I think for that reason we just have to make do.

It might have sounded counterintuitive, once upon a time, to deliberately borrow classic, time-stamped genre elements to make your music sound dated. Today, it seems one of the most interesting choices a band can make. I’ve not heard many do it better than Orsini. Their debut album, Ezin Atera, takes on a distinctly early-to-mid-’80s European post-punk feel.

Even the album art delivers on this. From its structured, geometric, angular style and choppy typography, some may already recognize the work of Barcelona-based Venezuelan DIY artist and musician Jonathan Sirit, also of post-punk band Belgrado. Sung entirely in Basque, the album’s title roughly translates to Cannot Get Out, as the Bilbao natives explain. It centers on personal struggles conveyed in a “straightforward, linear way, looking back at that huge black hole we ended up in, and how, in the end, making it through actually made us stronger.” It’s something symbolized so clearly in Sirit’s illustration: from the huge black hole to the individual’s uphill battle while carrying a heavy load.

Beyond their surface-level punk defiance, driving riffs, upbeat rhythms, and singalong hooks, Orsini prove their ability to tackle grittier themes of gentrification and DIY spirit. They show an immovable stance on staying true to their core identity, resisting anything threatening to change that.

After just ten seconds, I knew I was going to like this record. What an opener. Dealing with confrontation in all its forms, “Luces Azules (Denis & Denis)” (Blue Lights) sets the tone for what’s to come over these eight punchy tracks. Infectious, dynamic guitar licks offer the urgency of the Ramones, Buzzcocks, and The Saints while also emitting pure post-punk ’80s guitar jangle, leaving it feeling as fresh as it does nostalgic. Singer Jokin’s passionate bellows keep in step with Uri’s relentless drums. There’s even a bass solo thrown in at some stage, too.

“Somos” (We Are) follows that up with another of Jokin and Kalim’s serrated riffs, marred with distortion. This feels freer and noticeably more melodic: remember The Cure’s late-’70s debut, Three Imaginary Boys? Essentially, it seems to be a fumbling love song. Though, amid plucky notes, it still keeps its essential grit, going further to prove just how tight the band are as a unit.

Lyrics are emotively spat at us, reminiscent of Slavic punk at times, on “Otra Vez” (Again). Off-kilter, shimmering guitar and a steady, slapping drumbeat kick things off. With a rallying, singalong chorus, the song’s ending opens it out further into chamber-like reverb and vocal improv. Lyrics point to some kind of messy, scattered anxiety diary, which continues on the infectious title track, against a backing of pretty melody dancing over a sturdy riff.

Amping up the aggression are “Titulares de prensa” (Press Headlines) and “Frio Cemento” (Cold Concrete), with rollicking starts hinting at traces of Oi! and second-wave punk, strengthened by catchy chants, abrasive feedback, skittering drums, and Ángel’s incessant bassline. Resisting the gentrification of their city and fighting for liberation, both tracks are unquestionably punk, in music and meaning.

“Hitzen Errebotean” (The Rebound of Words) features Sali, describing the impact that gossip and rumors can have. It takes a melancholic, post-punk turn, in spite of furious drumming and snarling spoken word. “Más fuerte que ayer” (Stronger than Yesterday) is the liberating album closer. Big, shout-out main hooks perfectly convey the song’s optimism at being a better person now that past problems are overcome. Ending softly, twinkling, lighter segments also get a look-in.

A strong debut from the Basque band, there isn’t a bad (or even average) track on Ezin Atera. There’s something for all ’70s punk and ’80s goth fans: from post-punk, Euro punk, and street punk to elements of darkwave and jangle pop, making the whole thing an eclectic expression that longs for simpler times. Despite sharing moments of both, Ezin Atera doesn’t feel angry or gloomy. It comes across like it’s already combated those emotions and made it out the other side. Something that, in today’s world, is a thing to be celebrated.

I really liked CARE’s demo when it came out in 2020. The artwork caught my eye, and the music fit right into the revivalist wave of youth crew and straight edge hardcore coming out of Poland and Czechia, with bands like Protein, Lifelike, Make X Peace, and the extended family around Częstochowa’s Youth 2 Youth Records. Looking for newer straight edge releases around Edge Day ’26 brought me back to this band and their latest EP, Purpose.

CARE continue to hit all the right notes with this particular brand of hardcore. The music is energetic and melodic, with enough tension in the riffs to allow the harder breakdowns to stand out. It brings back memories of the youth crew records coming out through Rivalry and React! Records in the ’00s and early ’10s. The mix suits the sound really well, especially the drums, which have plenty of presence and make those changes in pace count. There are connections to Polish hardcore legends Regres here, too.

The lyrics give all that energy a place to go. “Last Chance to Reach You” opens with the painful experience of watching someone drink their way through their problems, feeling them slip further away, and wondering whether you’ve already missed the opportunity to help. It’s a strong opening for a straight edge record, grounding the subject in friendship and the difficulty of reaching somebody you care about. This is not the type of conservative, street-cleaning attitude straight edge.

“Disengage” is about pain and finding the will to break away from whatever keeps you trapped. Lines like “Time to break the chains” are classic youth crew stuff, and they fit the melodic drive and harder edges of these songs perfectly. The band’s namesake song brings things back to supporting each other, starting with an admission of shared fear and building toward the promise of being there when somebody needs you.

“Reflections” closes the record with a similar concern for how we treat ourselves and the beings around us. It deals with recognizing harmful habits, learning from past behavior, and becoming aware enough to act differently next time. Mindfulness and empathy are central to the song, connecting the EP’s familiar themes of personal growth to responsibility toward others.

My main reservation is Kuba’s vocal delivery. His strongly accented English sometimes makes the phrasing feel awkward, and I’m wondering how these songs might sound in Polish. Hearing youth crew bands from places like Spain and South America sing in Spanish has always been part of the appeal of those scenes for me, and a similar approach in Polish could work really well for CARE. Anyway, it’s good to hear CARE and the Polish scene still kicking, with Youth 2 Youth continuing to give this music a home.

Happy Samhain, or whatever you call it! This time of year is when we hear so much new music. For genres that have always played with bleakness, darkness, death, and the occult, it makes sense that so many records come out around this particular pagan holiday. So I’d already prepared myself for tons of requests to cover new releases, but while I was expecting to choose among some metallic, evil-sounding hardcore, it was a huge surprise to have the opportunity to premiere the new LP from one of my favorite post-punk bands, Litovsk.

Their new album, L’Aventure, contains ten tracks released on beautifully packaged vinyl by Symphony of Destruction. Litovsk isn’t a band looking for publicity, and they don’t really feel comfortable with some wannabe music journalists praising their records. We did just that premiering their five-song release from Destructure a few years ago. The band felt a bit embarrassed, and it wasn’t the kind of article they were looking for.

So, this time I’ll just say that L’Aventure is a really good record that sounds just like Litovsk. If you’re already familiar with the band, you’ll love it. If this is your first encounter, you’ll definitely want to check out their past releases.

Litovsk also isn’t a band that gives interviews very often, especially online, so I feel privileged that they’ve agreed to do this one. And, of course, Litovsk is a punk band with political lyrics about fighting for the class interests of the dispossessed. The new record is no exception. All power to the people on the streets, in France and everywhere.

Litovsk has become a well known band in the DIY punk scene, but let’s start with a bit of your history. How did the band come together, and what does playing in a punk band give you that keeps you going as you get older?

Manu: Hey, thanks for interviewing us! Well, I dunno if we’re really well known, but it seems that our music has traveled a bit and reached people throughout the world. We’re grateful to the people who’ve helped us, especially DIY labels.

Clair, our bass player, started with the idea of doing a studio project based on the influence of bands he and the rest of us were listening to at the time, in 2013: The Estranged, Eagulls, Spectres, The Mob, A Touch of Hysteria, Zounds, and a bit of Blitz, Red Alert, etc. He gathered all of us together, and we weren’t meant to play live, as four of us were in Brest and Gwen, our drummer, was in Leipzig. Now it’s even more complicated, as we have Pablo, who lives in Toulouse, on second guitar, and I’m no longer in Brest, haha. But we managed to record a demo and thought, “Let’s play live,” and the rest is history.

I think I still play in bands because I still believe punk can be a tool for spreading a message, but also for releasing my anger and frustrations, for dealing with life. I also really love to tour and meet people all over the place, learning their history, their punk history, their culture… I love discovering new music, languages…

That’s the case for me, but I guess for all of us in the band, it’s also great to spend time doing Litovsk, as we don’t see each other much apart from the Brest lads.

Running an online zine, I’ve always had a complicated relationship with press releases, bands looking for publicity, streaming platforms, and social media. Litovsk, like many other DIY punk bands from France, seems to have consciously avoided publicity, and you can’t find the band on Spotify, Facebook, or Instagram. Is there a particular political stance behind this that you’d like to share, or are you simply not interested in all that stuff?

Manu: Well, it’s just that when I started getting involved in punk, everyone in the DIY punk scene seemed to be against MySpace. When Instagram, Spotify, and all that appeared, it seemed strange that a lot of bands fell into the trap. I couldn’t see what the difference was between MySpace and those platforms.

I could rant for hours against those platforms. We just chose not to use them, but we’re not a finger-pointing kind of band. I mean, some of us know how to make a website, so it’s easier for us. Maybe for teenage punx, it’s just not possible to avoid social media.

The message is just that we can avoid these platforms if we choose to, but in reality, it’s getting harder. Even when you’re looking for gigs, people tend not to answer their emails anymore, so avoiding Instagram and shit like that to reach people is not that easy now…

When I first started listening to contemporary French punk bands in the early 2000s, I was really excited by how central the Prix Libre economy was to DIY ethics, and how many shows and other activities happened in the countryside and mountains, outside the cities. Is this something that still works today? How would you describe the DIY network of bands, collectives, and physical spaces in these bleak times?

Manu: It’s still functioning nowadays, but as I said in the previous answer, some ways of doing things are changing. I think professional bands, or wannabe professional bands, are more present in the punk scene. There are more and more touring agencies, like Swamp Booking or others, asking for big guarantees.

To be honest, I think it’s shit. I’m not condemning them for finding ways to avoid working bullshit jobs, but, I dunno, we don’t like to mix work and punk as a band. I think everyone in Litovsk would agree with that. There are things we didn’t see before at our gigs: bands with SumUp terminals, big merch tables, etc. Bands with “real” distros and no “merch” tables are really rare these days.

But we still do gigs with a prix libre policy at the door, and we still manage to raise thousands of euros for good causes. In September, we played a squat gig in Paris, a benefit for Résilience Gaza, and it worked really well. I really hate it when people are like, “Prix libre gigs don’t work, put a fixed price on the door, blah blah.” Well, fuck off, mate, haha.

The scene report Romain did for your site is a good starting point for anyone who wants to know more about the scene here. A lot of the things and places he talks about are still there. But yeah, I would say the scene is thriving, although some ways of doing things disturb me sometimes. I’d also recommend Hedera, a documentary series that gives a good picture of what we’re up to in France. It was filmed about ten years ago, but many of the places featured are still active.

Following on from that, your new album is once again being released with the help of people like Jon from Symphony of Destruction, who does all this cool stuff in the countryside and makes beautiful screen-prints for bands he feels a strong personal connection to. Some members of Litovsk also run DIY labels without using social media or streaming platforms. Does this reflect a belief in keeping things small and local?

Manu: We do things with Jon because we’ve known him for a long time, because he’s a friend. It’s as simple as that! And yeah, we like to do things locally and are firmly rooted in the DIY punk scene in Brest and Brittany. Like I said before, we’re really grateful for the work Jon and Aidé put into our releases and really appreciate their way of doing things.

I run a really small DIY label called Senseless Acts of Anger, and yeah, I don’t have any internet presence. I have records in a box in a small anarchist library here in Angers and do a distro at gigs. I don’t wanna do it online because I love to meet people at gigs and talk about those records. Simple as that!

In the opening title track of your new album, “L’Aventure,” you sing that what you miss isn’t so much the past as the future you once imagined. What did that future look like, and what does “adventure” mean to you now? Are there any philosophical or literary references on the album, as there were on your previous releases?

Manu: I can’t answer the first part of the question because those are Damou’s lyrics, haha. But, for instance, I made a reference to Shelley and his poem “The Mask of Anarchy,” quoting and adapting the line “like lions after slumber” in “Armed with Anger.” There are surely other references hidden somewhere, haha.

Damou: The starting point for this song is the rather common feeling of a disconnection between my youthful hopes and the reality of being in my thirties. I think that as teenagers, we imagine the future will inevitably be better. Even if the political, social, or environmental situation is getting worse, we tell ourselves that at least from a personal standpoint, things will definitely get better.

For me, turning 18 meant escaping the boredom of my small-town life, breaking free from my parents, finishing high school, and finally doing something truly interesting. And then getting involved in politics—and why not start a band… In short, living my life.

By the time I hit my thirties, I felt like it had all gone by way too fast. And above all, that my present life had turned out to be pretty dull compared to my youthful dreams. So the idea behind the song isn’t so much to say “things were better back then”: I have absolutely no regrets about the weekends of my youth, doing nothing with my friends. It’s more about realizing that, despite everything, we’ve settled into life and ended up getting bored all over again.

And so, in this daily life that isn’t always much fun, we look for excitement wherever we can. I think that today, true adventure no longer exists. All we have left is to explore the ruins of capitalism. The kind of adventure this song talks about is “the poor man’s adventure.” For some, it means fighting for their football team every weekend. For me, it was exploring the city, its outskirts, and leaving my mark there. Today, it would be more about paying attention to the biodiversity that’s disappearing…

In any case, the album cover painted by our friend Marine Summercity perfectly captures my idea of adventure: a group of young people jumping off the old concrete bridge that connects Brest to the city of Plougastel—which is, of course, forbidden—in the incredible setting of Brest Harbor.

As for philosophical and literary references, yes, there are still some. Since I have no imagination, I have no choice but to find ideas somewhere.

The last track, “Solastalgie,” evokes André and Dorine Gorz. André Gorz was a thinker I like: he is one of the founders of political ecology in France. Toward the end of his life, he wrote Lettre à D., a beautiful text for his wife, Dorine, who was suffering from an incurable illness. They chose to take their own lives together in 2007. They haunt our present, a time of heat waves, pesticides, and ecocidal projects.

Brest has a reputation as a gray, rainy city, rebuilt after being devastated during World War II. The city feels present in the new songs too, especially “La gare routière” and “Alzheimer ville.” What changes in Brest made you want to write these songs? You’ve also sung in Dutch in the past, but this album is entirely in French and English. How did the lyrics come together, and how do you decide which language to use for each song?

Manu: I won’t answer for those songs about Brest, as they’re Damou’s songs. But people may not know that we have two singers: Damou, who sings in French and a bit in Dutch, and me, in English. Now it’s even more confusing because I sing in French on two songs on this album, “Clemboy” and “Détruire nos rêves,” haha.

When Mitch and Clair send us the songs, we choose between us who’ll sing which ones and check that the other is okay with that. On the compilation Quelques coups d’éclats, we managed to do a song where we all sing, the six of us, and we’re really happy with the result. I’d really like to do more songs like that.

For my part, I chose to sing in French on these two songs because their subjects were intimate or close to our history in Brest, and it would have been weird to sing them in English. “Clemboy” is about our friend Clément, who was killed by fascists in Paris in 2013, and “Détruire nos rêves” is about the eviction of the L’Avenir squat, which was an important place for us in Brest.

Damou: The idea for “Alzheimer ville” undoubtedly came from the demolition of L’Avenir, a self-managed community center built by the residents of our Saint-Martin neighborhood.

I borrowed the title from our friend Marine Summercity—her again. A few years ago, she drew pictures of new “luxury” apartment buildings constructed in place of old ones, with the slogan “Alzheimer City.” I really like that idea of a city that forgets its own past.

In fact, 80% of Brest was destroyed by British and American bombing raids during World War II. Since then, Brest’s rich people have had a real problem with their city’s history. First, they did everything they could to erase the nostalgia for “Old Brest.” And now they’re targeting many buildings constructed before the war or in the 1950s. Instead of renovating places, working with what already exists, respecting the residents’ experiences and the memory of these places, the city government is tearing them down.

This has been particularly true over the past decade or so, during which we’ve seen a real coarsening of urban planning. In fact, most of the places I loved in this city have been destroyed by real estate projects.

The goal of all this is to change Brest’s image, to make it an attractive city for investors and the bourgeoisie. And it’s working to some extent: the city looks clean, rents have already risen significantly, and there are more and more assholes driving Teslas. In short, Brest is becoming just another city…

As for the language, it was Clair, our bassist, who suggested that I sing in Dutch when we formed the band, since I’m a Dutch speaker on my father’s side. Now I prefer to write in French. It’s more difficult, but since it’s my native language, it allows me to be a little more subtle.

“Le chagrin et la pitié” names Resistance fighters alongside collaborators and fascist groups in Brittany. What drew you to this history, and what do you feel is being forgotten or deliberately brushed aside? I’ve always had a positive impression of Breton identity, language, folk music, and cultural heritage. How do you relate to these things, and is there also a darker, nationalist side that people outside Brittany might be less aware of?

Manu: Again, it’s one of Damou’s songs, haha, so I’ll skip the first part of the question. I’m rooted in some elements of Breton “identity.” My mother speaks Breton, and I take Breton classes, so yeah, Breton culture is really important to me. I listen to a lot of Breton music and enjoy going to fest-noz, even if I don’t know how to dance like I did when I was a kid.

But yes, there was a darker side to the independence and nationalist movements, with conservative and fascist politics during some periods of their history. Nowadays, the cultural and political movements for Breton independence are really left-wing, but before and after the Second World War, that wasn’t the case at all. The shift toward left-wing ideas happened in the late ’60s. I think May ’68 helped.

What I’m saying here is a bit of a caricature. There were also people advocating for the Breton language before and after WWII who weren’t right-wing, but it gives you a rough idea of the situation! I can’t sum up the whole history here.

Damou: “Le chagrin et la pitié” evokes memories of my grandparents, who were children during the German occupation of Brittany. My grandfather was a communist and a labor activist. It was very important to him to pass on the story of the young Resistance fighters from his village who were tortured and shot by the Nazis. This song is a way of telling “the big story” through the small ones—those memories of the Occupation that every family carries.

With the passing of the last generation that experienced Nazi atrocities and the Holocaust, the issue of preserving those memories has indeed become pressing. I wrote this song against the backdrop of the rise of far-right groups, including in Brittany, where we had been largely spared until now.

A few years ago, a group of neo-Nazis adopted the name of the Breton National Party (PNB), a party whose members collaborated with the Nazis during the Occupation. Their knowledge of the Breton language, for example, enabled them to assist the Germans in hunting down Resistance fighters in the Breton maquis.

This song is also meant to remind us that, today just as in the past, fascists are scumbags. There’s no debate about that.

And indeed, regarding the second part of your question, that past has left its mark on Brittany, so much so that in the postwar period, it wasn’t that easy to advocate for the preservation of the Breton language or culture. It wasn’t until the folk revival of the 1970s that the Breton movement became firmly rooted on the left.

This history—like the history of Brittany in general, for that matter—is largely unknown to most people nowadays. Bretons have a lot of misconceptions about their own history, and I think that’s a problem.

So this song isn’t meant to reignite old arguments: I’m learning the Breton language, and I’m interested in this very rich culture. But I’m convinced that it’s essential to know the past in order to know where we want to go.

Litovsk, like Syndrome 81, often gets associated with the Oi! scene. Is that something that annoys you? Do you get asked about French Oi! a lot, and why do you think it has become so popular in recent years?

Manu: Haha, I was waiting for the Oi! question. As I say all the time, we’ve liked Oi! since our teenage days. When I arrived in Brest in 2008, we used to listen to a lot of Cockney Rejects, Blitz, Red Alert, The Oppressed, Camera Silens, Wunderbach—which is punk to me—and a lot of antifascist Spanish Oi! like Opció K-95 and Kaos Urbano, or Italian Oi! like Nabat and Klasse Kriminale. From France, there were Brigada Flores Magon, Bolchoi, Brixton Cats…

In those days, Oi! wasn’t really popular in the punk scene, but there was a strong crew of redskins and punks who liked Oi! in Brest. With bands like Viande Rouge and Jeunes Seigneurs, we had our local heroes. It annoys us because, to us, Litovsk isn’t Oi! We have some influences from the second era of Blitz, Red Alert, Cockney Rejects, etc., but we’re not an Oi! band!

We like that music, but we don’t identify as skinheads—well, not anymore for some of us, haha—or with that French Oi! revival. If you want my point of view on the French Oi! hype, it’s well summarized in a text I wrote for Maximum Rocknroll.

People tend to ask us lots of questions about French Oi! or cold Oi!, but most of the time we laugh a bit about it. We think maybe people are disappointed when they see us because we’re not skinheads or because we don’t like this “cold Oi!” hype. I mean, there are some cool bands out there, but the hype is shit, especially when it gives a new audience to shit old bands with shit ideas that we should let rot in the bins of history.

Maybe I should have asked this earlier, but we’ve been seeing footage of young people protesting and clashing with police across France. Behind those images are demands around education, public spending, and the future young people can expect, yet much of the commentary seems more interested in blaming immigrants or attacking Palestine solidarity. What have you observed yourselves, and what do you think gets lost in the coverage?

Manu: Big question, as it’s an ongoing movement. All I can say is that, to get a better picture of what’s going on here, you can’t just watch videos on YouTube.

Basically, there was a social movement in secondary schools and universities for better study conditions. On October 17, that strong youth movement linked up with the rest of the French population who are pissed off with the social climate, gas and petrol prices—all the shit that’s happening here and across France.

And it all exploded. I can’t speak for Brest, but in Angers, where I live, those demos were massive, and people are fucking angry. People are ready to fight back, and that lifted my spirits. The local fascists have a meat shop, and their place got trashed with stones and eggs filled with shit. It was great to witness that!

I hope this movement will get bigger, but I fear the level of repression will slow things down a bit. We’ll see!

Some of my most-listened-to records this year include the demos from An Tec’h (who sing in Breton), Monde Moderne, Haro, Faucheuse (RIP Shiran), Cleancore Killer, Hinin, Mauvaise Mine, and so many other French bands. I still haven’t listened to the new Turquoise record, though. What French bands and records would you recommend, and what’s been exciting you lately?

Manu: Well, you mentioned most of them already, haha, but I would say Bemnoz, a new punk band from Brest (not that new, actually); Précipice from Nantes, who released a great album; Shadow Tides from Toulouse, with our guitar player Pablo; and Tanork, a death metal band singing in Breton with a cool attitude.

The new Turquoise is, for me, the best thing they’ve ever recorded. I really love that new EP. I like the multilingual singing; it reminded me of the legendary French band Heimatlos.

Clava is one of the greatest crust bands we’ve ever had in Brittany. A great live band. Gleetch from Rennes is really cool as well, in a garage punk vein. Columba Triste from Lille put out a great EP recently. There are so many good bands at the moment. Feu from Nantes is also great. I’ll stop here, haha.

Now that the new album is out, what are your plans for gigs and touring? I’ve seen you at some cool festivals in the past, and you’ve always had news about cool shows to share when we’ve written to each other. Tell me it’s still possible to book shows and tours without being on social media! How does that work for you, and is there anything else you’d like to add?

Manu: We’ll do a “release” party in Brest on February 6 if everything works out, and we’re working on a tour of Belgium and northern France for the following week. So people from Liège, Charleroi, Namur, etc., feel free to contact us at litovsk@riseup.net. (Litovsk also have a simple website at litovsk.fr)

After that, we’ll see. Litovsk moves slowly because we’re all doing other stuff in our lives. Apart from the three who live in Brest, we’re all over the place, so we can’t accept every gig. We don’t like taking planes to do one-off gigs. We’ve done it about twice in ten years of existence, but we try to avoid it. Feel free to contact us, and sorry if we’re slow to answer!

Up the punx, and thank you for the interview!

Litovsk’s new album, L’Aventure, is available from Symphony of Destruction, along with a new EP from Grisaille (side project of Syndrome 81) and a mini-LP from Räkiä.

Not long ago, I ranted about how many good writers, some of whom once published print zines, have moved to blogs and newsletters on platforms like Substack. In the age of smartphones and AI slop, plenty of folks have also declared the print zine dead. I’ve never stopped digging for hardcore punk zines. They’re still around, but maybe it’s becoming more difficult to get your hands on them.

Some of the best zine distros have closed, shipping costs have skyrocketed, and zines are getting harder to find at shows. Hardcore punk distros still around today rarely get new stock, often carrying just a handful of titles published years ago. Instagram seems to have become the main way people discover new zines, which is a depressing state of affairs. Without an Instagram account, even ordering a copy can be difficult (some punk zines are available only through Instagram DMs).

Trapped Nerve is an entirely different matter. Its author, Nathan Bean, has spent a few years in the wilderness, disappearing from social media altogether. Receiving copies of the new issue was a welcome surprise, especially as I think it’s been four or five years since the last one.

Trapped Nerve is a vegan straight edge hardcore zine from the UK. Nathan has previously published Harder They Fall zine, ran the Hemlock 13 label, and played in bands including Age of Kali, xCanaanx, Rot In Hell, and Eyeteeth. I picked up previous issues of Trapped Nerve years ago and truly admired what he was doing. The 2010s saw a resurgence of straight edge zines, but too many offered either dull interviews with posicore and youth crew bands who had little to say, or militant vegan edge posturing in the vein of those holier-than-thou ’90s diatribes and manifestos. Much of it was nothing but cringe.

Trapped Nerve was the real deal. Nathan knows the scene, but he is also a good writer, combining a rich vocabulary and dry British wit without being (too much) a judgemental prick. His tastes lean towards hardcore’s heavy, dark, metallic, and misanthropic corners, and this fourth issue is no exception. An excellent essay on the now largely forgotten ’90s UKHC band Ironside describes them as “straight edge without a bleached youth crew sunrise. No clenched fist uplift. No happy chorus about better days.” That gives you a pretty good idea of the zine’s direction.

Among the highlights is a deep dive into Grant Morrison’s Animal Man, reading the comic as a dark plea for empathy and compassion at a time when radical environmentalism and anti-speciesist vegan activism were gaining ground worldwide. There’s also a deeply personal interview with Rob Merrill, drummer for Sheffield’s In The Clear and vocalist for Koreisch. The latter’s only album, 1999’s This Decaying Schizophrenic Christ Complex, remains an utterly bleak, haunting record. Its collision of sludge, noise, dark ambient, grindcore, and power electronics creates a sense of dread and absence that feels hauntological, reaching far beyond the novelty of mixing those styles.

Elsewhere, there are essays exploring the intersection of goth and vegan straight edge, alongside a letter from a former vegan who returned to veganism. The review sections cover new releases and zines, books on Floorpunch, the Inside Front, Syracuse Hardcore 1991-1998, and Crunchface zine anthologies, and the recent reissues of Earth Crisis’ Firestorm and Day of Suffering’s Eternal Jihad. The closing essay, “From Paradise Into the Inferno,” is a fitting finale and one of the clearest examples of Nathan’s strength as a writer. Its account of ’90s vegan straight edge’s revolutionary ambitions being absorbed into marketable nostalgia reminds me of Mark Fisher’s writing on lost futures and hauntology. Yet Nathan doesn’t want to bury those ambitions altogether, asking what might still be salvaged from a movement that once imagined a world without exploitation.

According to Nathan, just 97 copies were printed on a dilapidated photocopier. He sent me three, I’ve kept one for myself and set the others aside for my friends Angel and Nikolay, the sort of people who would appreciate a zine like this. To ask about any remaining copies or just get in touch, contact Nate at throatofjudas@gmail.com.

Stabbitha And The Knifey Wifeys are a demolishing metal-punk quartet from Adelaide, Australia, whom we first featured in our International Women’s Day article in 2024. They remain one of the best-kept secrets of the contemporary DIY hardcore scene. In almost ten years together, the queer-feminist band have wielded extreme music subgenres with such ease that they turn them into a wave of empowerment, positivity, and solidarity against systemic oppression. Their third full-length, aptly titled Disgust, is another album of heavy themes that crashes its way through the speakers.

Across the record’s 32 minutes, Stabbitha And The Knifey Wifeys use thin yet clear production to deliver their extreme metal-punk amalgam. Getting straight to the point with themes of economic oppression, state terror, sexism, transphobia, and societal decline from birth to death, Disgust draws on a rich tradition of political DIY hardcore while expanding its sound. The intense vocals, which Kathleen Hanna of Bikini Kill has praised as powerful, offer another varied performance, incorporating black and death metal on tracks such as “Over Me,” alongside crust and even metalcore and deathcore elements elsewhere.

The greatest strength of Disgust, though, is the songwriting. Stabbitha craft amazing guitar riffs that jump into the eye of the storm, bringing an explosive cocktail of influences along with them. The album draws on riot grrrl aesthetics, the heavy crust of bands like Misantropic, metallic hardcore, and the death-metal-infused hardcore of Venom Prison. The band also cite Employed To Serve, Sharptooth, and Infected Rain as influences, showing their connection to the more mainstream end of the spectrum.

Tracks such as “Initial Wastage,” “Disruption,” and the dramatic “Corpse Fauna,” with its bewitching rhythm, put these influences to work in songs full of rage. The basslines tear through everything in their path, while the drum patterns move between these different styles. Closer “Deeper Known” brings an ominous yet hopeful atmosphere. Stabbitha And The Knifey Wifeys know how to channel their rightful anger and subversive message into music with immense energy, without making destruction feel like the only possible outcome.

Disgust is drenched in negativity and pessimism, yet turns those feelings into a call for hope and togetherness. Its dual guitar solos and balance between an old-school feel and a modern approach are compelling, but the way the band communicate their themes matters just as much. It all comes together on an album that won’t let you go so easily.

Bands are always at their most dangerous when they feel they have something to prove. Such was the case for cowboyy, a young musical trio from England’s south coast that emerged from the South London gig circuit four years ago.

With math rock at their core, they did everything fundamentally right on their first EP, 2023’s Epic The Movie. Though it got its fair share of stick from genre purists, who felt it didn’t have enough complexity to fully earn its stripes. Vocalist, guitarist, and all-around pedalboard master Stan Powell admitted this was at the forefront of his mind during the writing process for some of revocder’s tracks. The rest had already been written (or were in the works) since the band’s formation, particularly over the last two years, and were inspired by a series of lucid dreams. Because of this, they recommend listening in track order. Clocking in at twenty minutes over nine tracks, revocder feels like the closest that cowboyy have come to a full-length album, though they still refer to it as an EP.

With influences ranging from the realm of the utterly bonkers (think King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard) to the dense guitar layering of The Smashing Pumpkins, cowboyy bridge the gap and arrive at their own interpretation of noisy psych rock—with all experimental sounds created by guitar and pedal effects.

revocder begins with a last-minute addition, the title track, intended to succinctly convey, over twenty-four seconds, what is to follow—and it certainly sets the tone. The cavalcade of squealing guitar at times mirrors those infamously nostalgic ’90s internet tones, already telling you that cowboyy have dialed up the math rock mania.

With a melodic but suspenseful intro, an unholy wall of sound launches into “bell pepper hell,” with hardcore-pounding drums, wailing discordant licks, and whirlwind layers of fuzzy mess at breakneck speed. Powell explains: “I had a job working in a bell pepper factory. One day, there were reports that one of the workers had fallen through the floor. We never heard about him again. A fellow bell pepper picker and I did find holes in the factory floor. The term ‘bell pepper hell’ was coined, but it wasn’t until that night that I dreamt of bell pepper hell.”

At its roots, it is such a simple story, yet it becomes something so delightfully bizarre. Powell’s vocals swell to increasingly manic shouts before the whole thing finishes with a swirling effect, as if it were all being flushed down a plughole.

“the chair mountain” features jagged stop-start rhythms, enhanced by escalating guitar intricacy and a solo so dizzying that you can just imagine Powell’s fingers trying to catch up with themselves. The lyrics to “chewing” loosely represent some of the frontman’s personal issues around food. Kai Smith’s bass groove is an anchor as the indie rock rhythm is drowned by detuned guitar stabs. At times, it successfully finds the perfect middle ground between composed and apeshit. “And then the cowboyy lost his mind” is the apt line that triggers a chaotic spiral into pure discordance and intense, layered vocals.

One of the EP’s high points is “melancholy (chain),” and though cowboyy don’t do conventional, it is one of their more linear compositions, as is clear to hear. Dan Haysom’s off-center drums are the star of this track, mounting after energetic verses. Vocal projection seems distinctly emphasized, with hints of late ’80s and early ’90s Pixies-style alt rock, also showcased in the looser rhythmic swing and scaling solos.

A fifteen-second interlude (that no one asked for) offers a robot’s considerably creepy lowdown on why he wants to be a cowboyy so badly, delivered with as much emotion as is… inhumanly possible. You feel this is definitely an attempt to consciously make this EP weirder than the last.

Another highlight, “drawbridge, castle,” gets off to an exciting start, with half-snarling pop-punk sensibilities and poetically delivered spoken word (with lots of reverb), while a fuzzy, thrashing breakdown plays out. Sliding pitch shifts are created by Powell’s then-new baby (an EarthQuaker polyphonic pitch-shifter pedal). Messing around with this bit of kit is what spawned the song in the first place, and it produces some pretty neat effects.

At times, something similar to a reversed ambulance siren is achieved; at other times, you can just envisage the frenzied raising and lowering of the drawbridge. Chaotic imagery was the conscious aim. The lyrics set the scene of a cowboyy and a castle, and there’s a reference back to bell pepper hell too. Also taking on the role of co-producer, Powell was influenced by surrealist artist Hieronymus Bosch, who focused his art on dreamy yet peculiar landscapes, coinciding perfectly with the EP’s overall theme.

“incomplete” is defined by exactly what the title would suggest, but hints at escapism from the stagnation of life, with hallucinatory sounds very much echoing the prospect of breaking free. At first, a repetitive reggae rock bassline is set against tinny, twinkling psych guitar, conjuring the ’60s and ’80s simultaneously. Given the theme, it’s easy to see where Powell’s attitude and exasperation come from through the medium of an Americanized, power-punk-leaning vocal.

Although cowboyy have gone further in their experimentation on revocder, “collide,” the closing track, is probably the best place to start for anyone new to the whole math rock thing. With a far more subdued instrumental beginning, it differs from everything before it, which plunged you straight into the deep end.

This song was only ever intended as a joke, the band’s tongue-in-cheek “rock anthem,” though it has fast become a fan favorite, probably for its conventional catchability, ironically. The lyrics were written around 2022, which was not Powell’s best time, it would seem, judging by their doom-filled nature. The spoken-word, deadpan delivery tackles introspective subject matter frankly and head-on, while winding guitar weaves around it. It is a refreshing change from all the other intentionally discordant offerings.

cowboyy have improved on their first EP and, if nothing else, should be commended for their ambitious nature, seeing them flirt with synth-like guitar effects, jazz elements, and power punk. Against all odds, it still manages to be catchy in places while capturing an authentically offbeat, one-take energy.

Queercore is evidence that the DIY punk scene is actively evolving and tirelessly fighting against a system that stubbornly oppresses everybody. It has amplified voices on the margins, championing our agency, our freedom to speak our minds, and our right to express ourselves while giving the heteronormative world a giant middle finger. There are a ton of releases you should definitely check out (if you haven’t already). Here are some that are less well-known than the ones that usually come to mind.

Fashion Tips – I Wish You Every Success (2024)

This dance-punk, riot grrrl sass band from northern England basically blew everything out of the water with their debut. A torpedo of catchy, buzzing synths, layers of mangled, noisy riffs, cracked-up electroclash beats, and high-pitched, hysterical vocals dripping with sass and sharp sarcasm cuts through tough str8 guys and miserable TERFs in the industry and beyond. Esmé and her gang have aimed their dance-punk gem at every fragile glass ceiling, and I really think it’s beautiful.

SLOUCH – Toxic Bitch (2015)

If you loved GLOSS, then you should also pay attention to SLOUCH, as the two bands shared a member. Formed in Olympia, Washington, this queercore band existed for a few years, releasing 2014’s Sick Man Demo EP and 2015’s Toxic Bitch EP. If you ask me, the second EP is a different beast. It starts with furious, snarling feedback against a barrage of drum rolls before jumping into straight-up pissed-off hardcore punk. It packs so many punches beneath layers of furious noise, tackling queerphobia, transphobia, shame, guilt, and agency over oneself. I’ve binged this EP so many times I’ve lost count.

S.L.O.G. – Mosh///Politics (2026)

Formed in Minneapolis, these Sexy Ladies of God have been kickin’ asses for a few years. Their second album came out this spring, keeping things heavy while expanding their sound with elements of crust punk, crossover thrash, and post-hardcore (plus a Limp Wrist cover). The entire album takes a giant piss on performative culture in the hardcore punk scene.

P.S. Besides an epic nine-minute closer, one bit I find particularly amusing is the title track’s lyrics:

“bitch, you mosh like you have healthcare. / we both know you can’t afford healthcare. / go to the hospital with a t.b.i. / two weeks in the dark. / bitch, i hope you don’t die. / [you] can’t afford the premiums.”

Absolutely hilarious.

Distracted – Self-Titled (2026)

Formed by Chem Chain member Solomon Tāmehana, Aotearoa’s Distracted offer nine tracks of raw synth-punk on their debut EP. Completely unmixed, the release conjures an ominous, industrial atmosphere, with vocals ranging from monotone whispering to deranged screaming.

The whole thing is so disgustingly raw that I think any Nervous Gender fan would binge the hell out of it.

DEATHLESS FOREVER – how could i not be your girl? (2024)

About a decade ago, I covered Space Camp’s debut album for this site. Time has flown by, and the band eventually changed their name to DEATHLESS FOREVER. I’d almost forgotten about these folx, so I decided to check them out again. This album in particular blew me away so hard that I ended up completely bald (pun obv intended)! Their songwriting has expanded so vividly and immensely that it’s ridiculous. More no wave queer punk for me, please!

miraż – Jestem z Nią (2018)

These Polish riot grrrls had quite a difficult time getting their material released. Initially planned for 2011, the release had to be postponed due to various circumstances. Later that decade, the band regrouped and finally released Jestem z Nią (trans. “I’m With Her”) in 2018. Across these nine tracks, miraż tackled queer liberation, consent, abortion rights, radical politics, and oppression in conservative Poland.

Шибарі Аудіокабелем – Self-Titled EP (2024)

Formed around 2024, Шибарі Аудіокабелем (trans. “Shibari with Audio Cable”) took on the difficult task of being the first queercore duo in a country torn apart by war. Their experimental sound blends post-hardcore, industrial, and darkwave. The EP opens with a hard-hitting track demanding the right to exist openly (arguably inspired by Dog Park Dissidents), followed by more personal songs exploring desires and imagining a peaceful place. The final track deals with despair over a lack of belonging. In February 2026, however, the duo went on hiatus.

Ato Fállico – Contracorpo (2025)

Fronted by a trans woman, this mathcore band formed in São Paulo, Brazil, just a year ago and dropped this EP that same year. Their music is described as mathcore, but it goes beyond that. At times, it leans closer to sludge metal; at others, it’s borderline deathcore. Either way, the riffs are deliciously dissonant, and the lyrics are as confrontational and sharply critical as they come.

What’s also interesting to me is the EP’s title. Contracorpo becomes particularly suggestive alongside these themes. The body is not merely a physical object being attacked. It can also be understood as the individual who does not conform, the person subjected to social discipline, or the member of a community who becomes an enemy in the eyes of their own peers.

The counter-body is therefore potentially both a form of resistance and a site of conflict.

Closet Burner – Self-Titled (2012)

We’ve mentioned them in our coverage of an Earth First! compilation, but we haven’t taken a closer look until now, so here’s my opportunity to do so. Galesburg-based Closet Burner were active from the early to mid-2010s, leaving behind a demo and two LPs. Their brand of hardcore punk borders on powerviolence. With suitably DIY production, their songs are short but full of fast, energetic queer fury, clocking in at around eleven minutes altogether.

La Gente es Weona – Shiruka boke (2016)

Formed in Valparaíso, Chile, this noisy powerviolence band released a demo EP in 2015, followed by Shiruka boke in 2016, and remained active until 2019, at least according to their Facebook page. The EP has 13 tracks and lasts around six minutes. The results are short whirlwinds of unfiltered blast beats and incoherent bouts of screaming vocals buried in claustrophobic depths of bass.

The post 10 Queercore Releases You Might Have Missed first appeared on DIY Conspiracy]]> 46055 https://diyconspiracy.net/rat-cage-not-asking-for-much/ Wed, 21 Oct 2026 04:00:00 +0000 https://diyconspiracy.net/?p=46101 The post Rat Cage – Not Asking For Much first appeared on DIY Conspiracy

English band Rat Cage, formerly a solo project, returned in late August with the follow-up to their seminal Savage Visions, released three years ago. Devoted to the classic ’80s sound, the band don’t stray far from the formula on the highly anticipated Not Asking For Much. What they do, however, is put their knack for […]

The post Rat Cage – Not Asking For Much first appeared on DIY Conspiracy

English band Rat Cage, formerly a solo project, returned in late August with the follow-up to their seminal Savage Visions, released three years ago. Devoted to the classic ’80s sound, the band don’t stray far from the formula on the highly anticipated Not Asking For Much. What they do, however, is put their knack for razor-sharp melodies amid the chaos front and center. Beneath their old-school veneer, Rat Cage have a distinctive approach, enriched by a wealth of rock ’n’ roll elements, and this time around, they sound more playful than ever.

As with its predecessor, Not Asking For Much sits at the crossroads of early British, American, and Swedish hardcore. Bryan J. Sudabby’s band hold GBH and Partisans in equal regard alongside bands like Totalitär, Herätys, Missbrukarna, and, further down the line, Poison Idea. The new record’s 23 minutes are a statement of intent in that direction. Tracks like “The Grass Is Greener,” with its colossal swagger, stand out for the band’s ability to rein in the rhythm. Rat Cage have arguably delivered their best-produced album yet: a deafening yet crystal-clear sonic manifesto that electrifies the atmosphere.

Beyond keeping the intensity high, both sonically and thematically, the album’s ten tracks are imbued with a beautiful sense of feeling. On songs like the finely crafted opener “Steady On Now” and “Scarred Stiff,” Rat Cage combine sonic violence with collective liberation. They hit with brutal force on “Marble Bench,” which sounds like it crawled out of the harshest Scandinavian basements; flirt with near-pub-rock territory on “Cracks They Show”; and smash you straight through a plate-glass window on “Dragged Through The Dirt,” with its incredible vocals.

With no song exceeding three minutes, Rat Cage aren’t so much cramming in an overwhelming amount of information as delivering an impressive distillation of riffs and compositional tricks. The basslines throughout the record are fantastic, a testament to a deep understanding of the genre, while the drums pound away within an early d-beat framework without ever losing their pulse in favor of some noisy, all-out racket. Once again, the guitar solos and leads are a major highlight, particularly on the album-closing title track, which the accompanying press release aptly describes as exploring the influence of Pink Fairies.

Rat Cage have released an album forged in the fires of hope, self-sacrifice, and resistance. It takes the absence of a future and our collective predisposition toward prolonged defeat and turns them into fuel for songs that shine through the gray nights of resignation. Brief, though not necessarily explosive, Rat Cage’s songs are beautiful smudges across the face of the mundane. The way they channel their anger is liberating, and empathy is never buried beneath nihilism. Their hardcore grooves, teaches you the choruses, and then invites you into the pit. Not Asking For Much, perhaps their most melodic outing yet, is essential listening for anyone interested in underground, politically charged hardcore rooted in the past but firmly grounded in the present.

I’m not asking for much. Just listen and understand.

A Greek version of this review was published at Rocking.gr.

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Already released digitally in July, Catatonic’s latest EP, Smug, received a limited run of 50 transparent purple cassette tapes through Manchester’s Prejudice Me Records on October 17. The band, hailing from Shillong, India, land somewhere between noise rock, post-punk, hardcore, and atmospheric metalcore on their latest release, making for one hell of a genre party. Since forming in 2020, they’ve remained something of an EP band, spewing out debut and sophomore records Gardenia and Metanoia in quick succession last year before arriving at Smug this summer. What sets it apart from the others? Smug has a more industrial feel in places, owing to its fusion of styles and interesting use of feedback to create unique textures.

“Bootlicker” kicks things off with a Dead Kennedys-style, tension-building riff and a dose of crazed noise rock. Guitars offer high-pitched, mechanical creaks and quivering reverb as drums gather momentum and we progress into some intense riff layering. Vocalist-guitarist Nangsan Lyngwa leads the catchy hook at a quick pace with post-hardcore growls.

The vocal stretch and musical range on “Canaille” recall Japanese metalcore cohorts Crossfaith in their earlier days. The chaotic midsection, bordering on math rock, eventually features an impatient spoken-word escalation back into sheer pandemonium. It might be Lyngwa’s finest performance of the EP, between throaty roars and guttural shouts.

Meanwhile, “Pavlov’s Dog” delivers more surprises with its choice of post-hardcore with a bluesy swing and weaving bass groove. Then there’s the half-interlude of watery grunge guitar. It’s a softer, more haunting dynamic that might surprise some first-time listeners, especially if the beginning of this record was your first point of reference. Hardcore fans needn’t worry for too long, though, as it’s soon overrun again by furious, hammering riffs beneath accented distortion, gradually straying into offbeat territory. Feed the Rhino come to mind when hearing the main hook’s stop-start rhythms and chants, coupled with the way Catatonic really seem to rally their sound as a force against everything else here.

You can see why “Fawn” was chosen as the lead single, released back in June. Dishing up some unexpected greatness, gothic, angular guitar leads the charge, though Ningyel Lama is the MVP with that foreboding bassline. Darren Majaw’s drums sit just off-center from the main rhythm, and it works perfectly. It’s a race to play catch-up as cymbals and snare plough forward, crashing all over the place as impassioned, reverberating spoken word precedes more gutturals.

The return of dirty vocals sometimes threatens to lessen the track’s individuality in relation to the others, but brighter, ’90s-style breakthroughs save it just in time. Even as drums continue to race ahead, guitars linger on that ominously haunting frequency (just think The Cure or The Smiths). It’s definitely an interesting sound, one that’s far from one-note by any stretch. Elongated, strung-out feedback screeches signal the end and seem to be the overarching motif throughout the whole record.

Finishing on a moody, sinister note and revisiting those hints of grunge, “Grief” opens with lurking guitar eventually joined by trudging drums. There’s a strange kind of parallel here between Catatonic and post-hardcore Californians AFI, beginning with Lyngwa’s nasal, gothic commentaries that bear similarities to what AFI frontman Davey Havok achieves with his band’s new darkwave incarnation, while gutsier moments reflect both bands’ post-hardcore origins. Lyngwa’s throat must be raw as he continues giving his all. Once again, his vocals seem to channel those of Crossfaith’s Kenta Koie, and the rollicking relapses into out-and-out hardcore are, by now, recalling the staggeringly unpredictable pacing of DC punks Bad Brains.

The detuned, shrieking guitar accents are weirdly satisfying, thematic additions to this EP. Catatonic pack in plenty of atmospheric melodies and allow goth rock and grunge a seat at the table too, as they weave between post-hardcore riffing and metalcore rasps. We can only hope that Catatonic will soon come up with a full-length album, with plenty more stylistic surprises and additional room to expand their ideas. In just five songs, though, this proves that they’re well on their way to doing just that.

Straight edge and sobriety have been an important part of my life for the last 15 years, and I’ve made a habit of marking Edge Day with a feature celebrating the culture. In recent years, I’ve interviewed people who’ve written books on straight edge, put together roundups of newer straight edge records, and spoken with longtime bands and individuals involved in the scene.

This year, though, I feel more alienated from it. Much of straight edge seems to be blending into an increasingly conformist hardcore scene enjoying greater commercial exposure. It’s not just bands putting out more merch designs than songs or people posting stupid mosh videos. I also haven’t liked the music or lyrics on many newer straight edge records.

Since all my straight edge interviews over the past three years have been with Europeans, I wanted to speak with a US band this time. No Cure were my first thought. The Birmingham, Alabama band bring a strong metal influence to straight edge, and their hard work and relentless touring have made them one of the scene’s bigger names lately.

Their long-awaited full-length, It Is Going To Get Dark, came out through SharpTone Records this year. I came to hardcore and straight edge through punk and have never been a metalhead, but I’d still call it one of the best metallic hardcore records of 2026. Alongside songs about the bleak and depressing state of the world today, there are militant straight edge declarations like “Ironclad” and “I Am Still Fucking Straight Edge.”

I arranged this email interview with vocalist Blaythe Steuer and guitarist Aesop Mongo, catching them in the middle of an exhausting US tour with Spite, Stick To Your Guns, and Vomit Forth. They tried to keep things shorter and to the point, so I skipped a few more controversial questions. Blaythe answered everything, and Aesop was happy with his responses and had nothing further to add.

How did No Cure come together, and what have been the biggest turning points for the band so far? When you started, did you imagine signing to a label and reaching the audience you have today, or did that grow out of the hard work you put into the band over the years?

Blaythe: Aesop and I had been going to shows together or supporting each other’s bands for over a decade. Near the end of lockdown, she reached out to me about doing a straight edge side project. I always wanted to do a straight edge band and respected Aesop, so I was happy to work on it with her. Neither of us expected any of this. My biggest aspiration for the band was having another good local band to throw on DIY shows in Alabama to help make sure we would get heads in the door for touring bands.

There hasn’t been any one big turning point, really. It has all been gradual. There hasn’t ever been a TikTok/viral moment. We’ve just toured harder than most and put out music consistently.

As I’m preparing this interview, it’s been almost exactly two years since the terrible incident in which members of No Cure were stabbed while trying to break up a fight after a show. If you’re comfortable talking about it, how did that experience affect the band?

Blaythe: I can’t speak for the rest of the team, as I think I am the least traumatized by it of anyone who was there. I recognize that seeing someone you know cut open can be a lot for someone. I really don’t want to be insensitive, but to me it is just something that happened. There is inherent risk in some of these activities, and sometimes you get unlucky. I love making jokes about it. It always gets a good reaction, and it lets people know I’m not that worried about it. I regained mobility. I am fine.

From early on, you’ve covered bands like Earth Crisis. While the ’90s vegan straight edge scene put a strong emphasis on personal ethics and animal liberation activism, it also came close to self-righteousness, puritan ethics, and paying lip service to political conservatism. “Firestorm” and its “street cleaning” rhetoric especially spawned many bands talking about straight edge “supremacy” and “superiority.” Do you think that’s a problem today, when there are so many reactionary and fascist sympathizers around?

Blaythe: Honestly, I don’t. Some things just sound badass, and I believe that straight edge is a societal net positive. Nothing about straight edge is right-wing just because Mormons don’t drink too. Different shit is going on out there.

As a band with queer and trans members from the Southern states, how does playing heavy metallic hardcore and straight edge music relate to your personal politics? There are some big names in the scene who might not be right-wing themselves, but I don’t think they do enough to distance themselves from cops, racists, homophobes, and transphobes who feel welcome listening to their music. Have you had any experiences with that while touring, playing bigger shows, or finding out that bigots are into No Cure?

Blaythe: So far, we haven’t really had any issues. I think those people figure out pretty quickly what we are and are not about. It is hard to misinterpret a song like “Kill a Frat Guy” or the message of “Sharpen the Blade.”

I am actually excited when we get to play with a band that has a more general audience, especially if they’re pretty different from us. It is an opportunity to tell their people about the things we care about. Playing to a room of people who already agree with you is nice and all, but I want to make some people think about their views and realize there are other options.

You’ve recently released your full-length It Is Going To Get Dark, which has already received quite a lot of attention. Could you talk a bit about its musical and lyrical highlights? The record opens with “When the Spasms Cease” and the question “How did we get here?” What did here mean to you when you wrote it? Given the sense that whole systems are failing, who do you think is responsible for the world you describe?

Blaythe: “When the Spasms Cease” sort of poses the question of the record and sets the stage, while “Everything I Love Is Dead or Dying” concludes and resolves it.

It is hard for me to pick musical highlights, as this evolves and changes. Things I liked about it when writing it are sometimes different from what excites me now. I love how “My World in Flames” is, just in general. I didn’t expect so many people to relate to “Slowly Turning Blue.” Live, “Ironclad” has been extremely fun. It’s all been a great time, and I really didn’t expect how much it would all overshadow the back catalog.

“I Am Still Fucking Straight Edge” is a point of lyrical pride for me. It says everything I’ve always wanted to say, and not one word is wasted.

Everything feels blown out right now, and this record is a reflection of that.

“Oblivion Crusade” connects to the environmental concerns on “Your Children Will Drown in the Burning River.” You’ve described the newer song as taking an “accelerationist flavored stance.” What are you asking listeners to consider there?

Blaythe: Yes, “Oblivion Crusade” is indeed tied to “Your Children Will Drown in the Burning River.” It is the next step in that train of thought. You have realized that humans are destined to abuse the ecology that birthed us and disrespect the air, water, and earth we need to survive. To me, it’s not about paper straws at the coffee shop when you have corporations and countries dumping in rivers and oceans. Some people need to go.

I’ve read that “Sharpen the Blade” urges people to be ready, particularly those facing persecution in the US. What does being ready mean beyond the song’s violent imagery? What can a hardcore community actually do for people under threat?

Blaythe: I believe it is your duty to arm yourself physically and strengthen yourself mentally to the best of your ability, not just for yourself, but for your community and those you love.

I think I’m spoiling the fun again here, but I’ve been thinking about how I haven’t had a metallic hardcore record on my AOTY list in a long time. Apart from Contention’s Artillery From Heaven, nothing has really grabbed my attention. Most mosh-heavy music sounds pretty bland and samey to me nowadays, unlike the hardcore punk and crust records I love. What do you look for in the bands you listen to, and what are your favorite recent records in the kind of music No Cure plays?

Blaythe: I usually try to focus on things I like more than things that I don’t. There is no shortage of modern bands that don’t get it in one way or another. And that’s fine. Not everything is for everyone.

I’ve been pretty excited about a lot of small Alabama band records lately. Stitch has a new record next month that I think people will be really excited about. I also like that people are catching on to Wielded Steel now. Those are good people that I cherish. Retaliation, Cold Hard Steel, Lotto, and xPath Of Destructionx also beat ass, and I am looking forward to more from all of them.

As far as bands in the same genre space as us, I am not sure who that would be. I think part of why people are excited about us is that they can’t define us as derivative of a particular era or put us neatly in a genre box. I am not trying to toot our horn, but I can’t think of a band that pulls all of our influences together in a similar way, for better or worse, depending on who you ask, haha.

Lately, I’ve been listening to a ton of Carcass, Brotherhood, Death, Darkside NYC, Prevention, Snapcase, and Pig Destroyer. I am sure it will be a different list in a week’s time.

I’ve seen you talk about your passions for graphic design, guitars, and Warhammer 40K figures, all things that involve a lot of creativity, unlike the AI slop we’ve been bombarded with recently. What are the things that make you feel more human? And do you think the hardcore scene is under threat from all the grift and slop coming out of this new technocratic era?

Blaythe: I have seen plenty of graphic designers use no AI but also no creativity. It is possible. It can be done.

However, all the generative AI horseshit sucks. I have never seen something compelling and then found out it is AI. It truly is a litmus test for people. I do not believe everyone deserves the right to subject me to their slop in the name of “creativity.” Develop your skills and you will inherently develop your style.

You’ve been invited on quite a few podcasts. I’ve never been into podcasts or newer video formats like short-form videos and reels, but I’ve heard you discussing social media and why you feel it’s necessary for a band. Of course, you know best how to run your band and its publicity. Still, I think of bands like Ecostrike and others, who have been largely absent from social media and have discussed in zines how, if a label handles your publicity, the band doesn’t need its own online presence. Then there are DIY legends like Tragedy. What’s your take on that approach?

Blaythe: I don’t really listen to podcasts. I find that if I have time to listen to a podcast, I have time to listen to music. Touring as much as we do tends to burn you out on music. I am constantly subjected to sound. I really want to stay on top of new releases and keep furthering my historical understanding of hardcore and metal.

Respect to those bands that don’t engage in social media. We tour full time. We sleep in the van every night. I am going to post on Instagram about the show if it might help. It is a luxury to be the sort of band that gets together for a weekend to fly into some fest. That isn’t the kind of band I want to be. I want to be in the van. I want to be a part of the culture on a daily basis. I think we are sort of comparing different things here.

While we are signed to a label, I still often find us doing pretty much everything somehow. They just have a platform and fronted the money for the record. Someone has to advance the show. Someone has to settle the show. Someone has to write the music. Someone has to put the cabs on stage. Someone has to drive the van for eight hours overnight.

My lifestyle before and after “getting signed” did not change. I am still doing the same shit every day. The shows are better now, but that could also just be the organic reaction to the record.

Members of No Cure also play in local Alabama bands like Xeroed, Slam Brigade, and others. Let’s wrap up by talking about the local scene and the cool things happening around your town. Has releasing the album and touring more left you with less time for other bands and local politics?

Blaythe: The local scene is more critical to us as a band than to really any other band I can think of. I still spend tons of time booking DIY shows in Alabama. I play in a couple other local bands (guitar and vocals in Beautiful Child Of God, bass in B.E.G.). I want to start 100 more bands.

One of the saddest things about touring so much is missing a lot. I don’t get to attend most of the shows I work on now, but that does give me the opportunity to hire friends to run shit and teach the few younger kids that I think will be lifers how to do everything.

It is a great feeling to be able to leverage touring with No Cure to bring more dope shit to Alabama. I am always advocating for our scene and trying to line shit up. That will always be the case. The more No Cure does, the more I can use that to bring attention to Alabama and the bands back home. I want it to be easier for other bands from Alabama to start consistently touring than it was for us.

Nottingham’s premier metal punks return with a follow-up to their 2022 debut album, Spear of the Revenant. Since its release on Eco-Defense Records, Temple Guard have made a considerable impact on the UKHC scene, bringing live shows that never fail to incite a flurry of fists, flying spin kicks, and punishing riffs. Enter the pit at your own risk.

Citadel in Flames adds to the band’s impressive catalog of brutality: eight songs in 25 minutes of sonic savagery, recorded and mixed by drummer Jason Frye at the legendary Century Audio in Kent, raising the bar even higher for UK metalcore. The band doesn’t stray far from its roots—you can still hear the influence of ’90s metalcore bands like All Out War and Morning Again, as well as more recent bands like xRepentancex. It also features lashings of hardcore punk, thrash, and death metal. Across eight tracks, Temple Guard unleash their contempt for humanity’s destruction of Mother Earth, the abhorrent genocide in Gaza, and the religious dogma used to justify the slaughter of innocent civilians, soundtracking an apocalyptic world consumed by violence, greed, and ecological collapse.

Hard, heavy themes, accompanied by annihilating riffs, foreboding bass tones, and hammering drums, hit with fierce precision. If you’re not radicalized into an environmentally aware, antifascist, ski mask-wearing vegan soldier, then I’m not sure you’re embracing the message of Temple Guard.

The album opens with “Evisceration,” a pro-animal-rights speech backed by a menacing guitar riff that evolves into black metal-esque tremolo picking, sinister chugs, and hard-hitting drums. It’s a fitting introduction to an album that reflects the devastation unfolding around us while offering a grim warning of what lies ahead. The track is swiftly followed by “Blood Makes the Rain Fall,” which, in my opinion, is the album’s highlight. The intro sounds like the end of days itself. The monstrous wall of guitar and bass, plus the tremolo-picked lead, gives the track a sense of ominous urgency—the cacophony then gives way to demonic vocals.

Prayers unanswered
Oaths ignored
Indiscriminate death
Eternal war

Halfway through this onslaught, the tempo slows briefly without losing impact, then speeds up into an earth-shattering assault on the ears, a crescendo of chaos that sounds like the apocalypse. If eternal war has a soundtrack, this is it. The variety of vocal styles on this track is impressive, from guttural growls to aggressive hardcore barking and fry screams. What more could you want?

The fourth track features John Olley, former vocalist for the legendary, now-defunct UK metalcore band xRepentancex, hailing from the southeast. Despite lasting just three years, xRepentancex remain an important and influential band in UKHC. John’s vocal style contrasts well with that of Temple Guard’s masked frontman. Hardcore and metal vocals combine in unholy matrimony. This track best exemplifies the band’s hardcore-meets-blackened-death-metal sound.

Temple Guard have set the bar for UK metalcore in 2026, cementing their place at the forefront of the underground. They channel the militant, uncompromising vegan metalcore of Earth Crisis and Mother Earth’s vengeful wrath.