Band: Underdark
Album: Managed Decline
Label: Church Road Records
Release date: 24 November
Sounds like: A ghost story, of sorts.

Blimey and I thought Burner were heavy.

Hailing from Nottingham, Underdark is a five-piece metal band that straddles the lines between post-rock, black metal, noise and even elements of the most scathing end of post-hardcore for good measure. Managed Decline is loosely, a concept album about the disastrous effects of Thatcherite Neoliberalism on a post-industrial town in the Midlands, the repercussions of these events, and the loss felt by those groups left with very little and ultimately the struggle, but with the glimpse of some hope at the end of the murky, corroded tunnel.

To say optimism on this record is in short supply would be understating it a little; Underdark addresses this, by pointing (or raising) several accusing fingers at the past and present Government of the UK, indicating that the clear facts that they (the Government), are not looking out for you, they are too busy, lying, cheating and climbing over the dead bodies to get to the top. Addressing these issues therefore, is something of a catharsis through the medium of music, and like many before them, Underdark embraces this with such force, venom and boiling, raging, unhinged malice, that it’s a brutal, refreshing and ultimately, a challenging burst of riotous sound to envelop yourself.

The slow, trudging build of Managed Decline I, drags itself into view, and from the initial 2 minutes, it’s full of unsettling trepidation. As the lonely, crunching build slowly begins to take shape, vocalist Abi, begins chewing away with this guttural scything scream that’s fucking terrifying. It falls somewhere along the lines of the barbed, caustic cough of Jacob Bannon in places, with the sneering, ferocious pulse of Svalbard‘s Serena Cherry. It’s a claustrophobic listening experience, with the guitars (which seem very high in the mix) consuming you with this relentless, pummelling death rattle. Thank goodness for the respite 6:40 minutes in, giving you a chance to breathe, as Abi’s fractured and devastating vocals take centre stage under the slow build of the drums before it roars full force back into this post-metal scrape of fist-in-the-air redemption.

There’s a feel of early Kvelertak on the wall of sound that makes up Employment – think the Norwegian sextet at their most mead-swigging, their most devil horns and their most guitar-worship. It treads familiar ground of that Scandinavian black metal scrape, with a bouncy, sea-shanty-esque flair. The next track, Matrimony, brings this suffocating wall of sound with it, throughout its nearly 8 minutes, ending with this groovy-sounding riff, which is a stark contrast to the cacophonic noise that preceded it.

The pallet cleanser lasts for all of 2 minutes in the form of Raised For A World That No Longer Exists and acts as a helpful bridge – what could be radio static/people chanting is soundtracked by this luscious guitar tone that wouldn’t look out of place on an Explosions In The Sky record – it’s all too brief though, and the feeling is, this could have been something expanded upon on.

Here comes the big guns though, and boy does it hurt. There’s a part in Enterprise, arguably one of the most abrasive and devastating songs on the album, that brings to mind the almost space-rock ambience of Hopesfall (see The Bending) which acts as a brief respite from the track’s uncompromisingly brutal assault. Forget what you’ve heard before, this is the one that will blow your mind – Abi’s vocals are devastatingly ragged and acidic, whilst the sonic attack from the bass, guitar and drums is a technical masterpiece in heavy songwriting.

The final track, Managed Decline II, feels a lot more optimistic, especially in the mighty closing minutes, which reminds me of the bombastic feel of any of the three tracks that begin Deafheaven’s Ordinary Corrupt Human Love, that huge, epic rocking triumphant blast of longing energy, the act of escapement, of venting all your frustrated energy through this oddly beautiful, almost hallowed and cathartic noise.

Make no mistake, Managed Decline is an uncompromising piece of work. Treading that ground between both defeat and victory through the harsh, bleak and oddly hopeful subject matter, Underdark has formed something that is unlike quite what you’ve heard before; it’s a striking, empowering and devastating record in equal measure.

Stream, purchase, and load up on cassettes with Underdark’s new album, Managed Decline via Bandcamp below. Go on, treat yourself.

Underdark
Church Road Records

Band: Going Off
EP: Pay the Price/Bed of Concrete
Label: Church Road Records
Release date: 6 October 2023
Sounds like: windmilling, high-fives, stage dives, crushing cans into your skull

I love how you can tell what something is going to sound like just by glancing at the artwork. So, this new release from Going Off, a band I’m not that familiar with – but I’m going to say definitely hardcore? Oh good lord yes.

From Manchester with a debut album that’s been reissued through the wonderful Church Road Records, this double A-side (EP?) follows hot on the heels of September’s Crossroads/Weak Links EP thing (and both share similar thematic artwork) and it’s savage.

The band say that Pay the Price is about violent criminal scumbags who have finally got what’s coming to them for all the horror and pain they’ve put women through. In the brief 82 seconds that make up this track, Going Off covers thrash, grind, black metal, hardcore and sludge metal with the kind of spitting, paint-stripping venom you would expect, harsh, guttural vocal rasps, buzzsaw guitars and a sickening sense of foreboding but also, oddly cleansing.

Bed of Concrete highlights the tragedy of the ever-increasing issue of homelessness and the misery it brings, with the guttural roars of “there’s so much more we can do!” backed by these treacle-thick riffs, that scratch and gore with this furious, unrestrained throttle. Brutal, wonderful and all too quick – but hey, that means you just hit that repeat button.

Going Off taps into that need for something that gets in and gets out with rapid speed – furious, scathing, acidic hardcore that takes you on a brief but wild ride.

You can trash your place to this short-sharp shock of a 2 track EP via Bandcamp below.

Links

Going Off
Church Road Records

Band: Demons
Album: Under The Western Heel
Label: Knife Hits/The Ghost Is Clear
Release date: 21 July
Sounds like: METZ fighting The Bronx in a dark alley

Demons should be your new favourite band. Back in 2021, I stated that their last album, Privation, was the sleeper hit of the hardcore punk underground and their 5 minute EP from last year, was a bludgeoning, short-sharp shock to the senses that showcased just how crazy, demented and frantic their brand of hardcore punk can be, but also stylistically, inventive, intriguing and touching on elements of stoner, thrash and noise rock.

Those expecting a re-tread of Privation, think again. Under The Western Heel hits harder; retaining that stinging noise from the Swallow EP, this, their third album, takes that template and stretches it beyond breaking point, splicing in some of the hardest, challenging, and chaotic slabs of menacing, and altogether fun-packed moments of frantic, sweat-soaked punk rock and walls of alienating, challenging noise.

The opening track, Husk, hits like a fucking train – 2 minutes of rolling, twisting, amped up, Zeke-inspired punk rock that bleeds with this unchained, bludgeoning ferocity. It’s brilliant fun, a headbanging anthem of breathless noise, with this rapid-fire vocal delivery, of blunt, finger-stabbing statements of intent.

Holy (My Body, Broken for You) is not a happy song – as referenced by guitarist and vocalist Christopher Mathews, it’s the sound of “desperation, it’s exasperation – it’s the hypnotic spiral of continuous, daily defeat.” – Dude, not one for parties then? Imagine Unsane by even more down-tuned, despondent and grim sounding, soaked in rusty water and left by the wayside – that’s what this is like. Elongated riffs that hang and hum in the air with this disturbingly, menacing vibe and at nearly 7 minutes, it’s the longest and most alienating track on the album.

The guitar tone on Sweet Dreams is reminiscent of Christian Lembach of Whores; a scraping, ugly, destructive sound, disjointed riffs that see-saw back and forth with chaotic precision, whilst vocals are spat with brutish jock-hardcore malevolence and sneering spite, bringing to mind the chest-thumping power of Bridge 9 Records hardcore fed through the sludge mill. Whatever the distorted underwater-sounding vocals are around the 2:30 mark, they don’t sound human or even of this earth, adding a murky, horror-tinged vibe to this overall bro-core assault. Man (The Herald of His Own Condemnation) has an odd swagger to it – maybe it’s the vocals, which are this posturing, barked shout of defiance, backed by this scraping, sludgy post-hardcore gait, that gets progressively more agitated and harrowing, with this intimidating guitar tone, and a razor-sharp, corosive blast of fiery chaos for a chorus.

Eternal Shithead is just under 2 minutes of gang-vocal chants, anthemic roars and this churning, boiling metallic punk rock that doesn’t relent or give any leeway, before morphing into the grungy, bass-heavy rumble of By The Blood, which shakes, rattles and vomits up a heady mix of bile-spewing fury and a brilliantly mangled, off-kilter guitar solo near the end. Albatross sounds like a Dillinger Escape Plan track fed through a shredder – caustic, angular guitars sever and shriek with this math-rock howl, as it stumbles, lurches and roars its way to a scrappy, discordant conclusion, whilst retaining this Krause-style noise-metal cacophony of stabbing bluntness.

The final track, Thankful, cements Demons firmly into the noise-rock category – it’s like an embracing hug of discordant fire, a snarled, spoken-word tirade, this military march of the drums, bass and guitar stamping out this tribal pattern of surly, snarling noisy hardcore. Near the end, the track starts to fall apart in your ears, flittering from one channel to the next, getting progressively more abrasive through layers of mangled guitars, before finally collapsing in on itself.

A sometimes, bleak, often chaotic, but very sludgy trip into a hell portal of hardcore, Under The Western Heel by Demons cements their namesake perfectly on this wretched and sometimes fun slab of punishing noise – well worth a listen with your ears.

Stream/purchase Under The Western Heel by Demons below from Knife Hits Records. Spicy!

Links

Demons
Knife Hits Records
The Ghost is Clear Records

Rick was a prolific artist, having created all the artwork for all of his musical projects album art, notably all 4 Hot Snakes albums and both Drive Like Jehu records. He also provided artwork for the self-titled Rocket From The Crypt album and the singles that accompanied it. He was also so effortlessly cool looking – that guitar tone, that he had forged with his compadre, Reis, was a phenomenally recognisable sound – that tone which owed a lot to the Wipers was so recognisable, from the choppy, angular noise of Jehu’s off-kilter rhythms, to the blistering scything punk rock of Hot Snakes, all the way to the delicate, but no less hard-hitting garage drawl of Obits, his guitar lines were remarkable. Also, his vocals – at times a scything, drink-ravaged bark, to a delicate croon, always raw with emotion, as well as this slightly snarking joy. You also knew he meant every word as well, just such passionate delivery by one of the most unique, distinctive and do you know what, fuck it, best voices in punk rock.

I had the pleasure of seeing Hot Snakes 3 times in my life – once during the farewell show they did in 2005 at the Camden Underworld, Rick was very drunk, they were scrappy as fuck, but played Luau, which was epic. Saw them again at the Garage in 2011, where they thumped through an 18-song setlist of tracks from all three albums and it was magic. The final time was in 2018 (all times with Jason, I should add), playing the Dome – 22 song setlist this time, got to shake Rick’s hand at the end as well and Gar Wood’s (if I remember correctly).

Two weeks before his passing, Rick had revealed on his Instagram that a fifth Hot Snakes record was “very nearly done.” Here’s hoping that the surviving members can make sure this sees the light of day as a dedication to Rick’s memory.

Rest easy, dude. You’ll be missed.

Here’s my favourite Hot Snakes song, in case you’re wondering, I think it’s perfect.

Fellow Keep It Fast-er Jason has put together a playlist of some key Hot Snakes tracks to enjoy if you are Spotify-inclined:

Band: Burner
Album: It All Returns To Nothing
Label: Church Road Records
Release date: 23 June 2023
Sounds like: Scorched-earth grinding hardcore malevolence. Also, kittens*.

*We’re lying about the kittens, sorry.

Now, I love a band that has a blunt, no-nonsense name. Cruelty, Mastiff, Coffin Torture, Hatebeak (hahaha) and now add Burner to that ever-growing list. Hailing from South London, this four-piece has 1 EP to their name, the cheerfully titled scything noise of A Vision of The End and It All Returns To Nothing is their debut, and what better label to appear on, than good old Church Road Records eh?

Fucking brutal. There’s 2 words to describe this. I mean, this is like being set on fire and running through a paper factory, it’s absolutely chaotic, frenzied, guttural hardcore spliced with the most extreme moments of scything death metal, sprinkled with a flavour of mathcore deviance. Opening track, Hurt Locker bursts from the pen with such savagery, it could strip flesh from bone – it’s a whirling ball of turbulence, smashing through grind, hardcore, thrash and death metal throes in the first minute and a half. Around the 2 minute mark, it chugs and gnashes with the kind of Bane/Hatebreed-esque macho-posturing, whilst the guttural vocal barks, switch from throaty roars of indignation to scything screams of damnation. Bloody hell. Next up, is the title track, which is all furious blast beats, aggravated roars, pummelling riffs that feel as though they’re steamrolling over you, before tearing into this caterwaul of frantic, neck-snapping hardcore and it’s absolutely fucking seething with rage and boiling bile. Pyramid Head, which I assume is a Silent Hill reference, staggers into your ear canals, with the deranged, seething fury of the character, swinging it’s massive fucking sword. This is one of the closest full-thrash-hardcore tracks from Burner, and it’s relentlessly destructive, punishing and absolutely great fun – a circle pit anthem of caustic chaos that gets progressively more bludgeoning and terrifying as it goes on.

During Struggle Session, there’s a great moment at the 2:10 mark where Burner take their foot off the gas to really appreciate a sick breakdown and it’s a welcome respite (especially for their drummer, who is absolutely earning his paycheck on this.) There’s almost no time to breathe on the dense hammering of Pillar of Shame, which hits full force; it’s like Godzilla energy-beaming the fuck out of everything in the vicinity – the vocals are a scathing, throat-shredding blast of raw, blood-curdling rage, whilst the drums are beaten to a sticky pulp, and guitars jerk, clatter and flail with disgusting, math-metal rapture.

The 79 seconds of the interlude track, Trinity, allows you to compose yourself, but is still fairly sinister, sounding as if it’s been recorded through a cheap radio, the mangled guitar plucking gets more and more discordant as the volume and pace increases with unsettling speed and that “looking over your shoulder” nervousness. Prometheus Reborn is the most chest-beating hardcore track here, reminding me of the brutal nature of 90s-hardcore, while EF5, is its mic-swinging partner in crime, driving bass and drums, an antagonist’s anthem of brackish, blackened, squealing metal, with serious groove that Burner should be embracing with their flayed limbs, because it’s simply wonderful and horribly noisy in equal measure. At 7 minutes 23 seconds, An Affirming Flame is the longest track on It All Returns To Nothing, Car Bomb-esque guitar shreds litter the beginning of this track before it finds its stride in this fist-in-the-air chanting metallic hardcore rage, with the chanting lament of “and nothing changes if we don’t change ourselves” and builds with this dark, depressive, almost post-metal tone, before slamming full-force into this scrawling howl of punishing black metal screams, insane drumming and a solid wall of rending guitar attack. We then arrive at the final track, Waco Horror, which blasts past in around 70 seconds, all glitching guitar theatrics, odd-ball time signatures and a sense of a furious need to finish before an explosion happens.

Exhausting, corrosive to the very core and thoroughly venting, It All Returns To Nothing by Burner scorches the musical landscape to a smouldering wreck. The more hardcore elements on this though, are the most intriguing, where the instrumentation is given a chance to breathe, bringing forth some punishingly technical riffs and elevating the tightness of the rhythm section. An absolutely cracking debut, not for the faint-hearted – uncompromising, savage and excellent fun.

It All Returns To Nothing by Burner is available to buy on Church Road Records or via Bandcamp below.

Links

Burner
Church Road Records

Band: The St. Pierre Snake Invasion
Album: Galore
Label: Church Road Records
Release date: 21 April 2023
Sounds like: An abundance of writhing serpents.

It’s difficult to stare at this album cover without my eyes feeling funny.

Anyone expecting Caprice Enchante mark 2, you’re in for a shock. That’s not to say that Galore is stylistically completely different, but it is in a more subtle, intrinsic way. Three albums into their 12-year career (and a handful of EPs), Bristol’s The St. Pierre Snake Invasion sound as if they are wrenching themselves apart and hastily shovelling the guts back in, whilst sipping a cuppa and wryly observing the carnage. Yeah, it’s an odd one.

Opening track Kracked Velvet is littered with staggering, angular guitars and stuttering percussion, that delves into short-sharp blasts of boiling rage, before lurching back into this slamming post-hardcore onslaught, with random interjections of those odd-ball time signatures, with an ending that builds and builds to this whistling crescendo, before abruptly cutting short and closing with an elongated whine. Wow. Great use of finger clicks about halfway through as well.

The next track, Midas, takes things in a different direction – built predominantly around keys, synth and what sound like electronic drums, it brings to mind the haunted melancholy of Nine Inch Nails and the warm embrace of LCD Soundsystem in places. Frontman Damien Sayell, intones this almost dream-like vocal delivery with the repetition of “I don’t feel…” and it’s such a departure from the chaos that normally surrounds the sound of this band and it really fucking works. I mean, there’s still a feeling of general unease – it’s still as intimidating as their more raucous, punk rock sound – but just done in a different way.

Submechano, the first single, is the agitation, the crunching guitars, the rending, caustic caterwaul of noise you would expect – the guitars sound so disjointed, they’re like limbs popping out of sockets, sickening to hear, but weirdly satisfying when it all clicks back into place. It’s an absolute rush of barely contained adrenaline that explodes forth with punishing aggression, these odd-ball time signatures, almost math-metal in execution, but kept all in line by Sayell’s rasping vocal lead, that swings from this sullen croon to this raw, hacking indignation. Credit to the layers of sound on this track as well, that’s must be a keyboard they’ve horribly de-tuned and slammed in under these punishing guitars and the extra percussion is *chefs kiss*.

The title track employs the “building wall of noise” mantra, with Sayell’s almost hypnotic vocal repetition, which is somewhat buried and muffled by the layers of guitars and feedback, making it even more sinister when he begins to scream blue murder, especially in the closing seconds where the band decide to go hell-for-leather, and absolutely batter the shit out of their instruments. Aisling Whiting of Sang Froid joins Sayell on this, adding depth and an almost ethereal component to proceedings and works to expertly rein in the fire from the frontman, creating this wonderfully odd and devious-sounding duet.

With Sayell featuring on Sugar Horse‘s Disco Loadout from the Waterloo Teeth EP they released last year, it’s only right that SH frontman, Ashley Tubb, should guest on this, and Galore is richer for it. Tubb’s blood-curdling vocal screams can be heard on the noisy apocalypse that is To Sleep Well – and holy shit, is there a lot going on here. The really uplifting keyboard flourishes, for one thing, are brilliant over the slabs of punishing, Cherubs-esque noise-rock. I mean, from what I can gather, it’s actually quite a sweet song, lyrically, all about Sayell growing as a person – and they’ve masterfully married these moments of genuine care, love and tenderness with this uncompromising heaviness and I have to mention it again, those fucking keyboards are just on another level of greatness.

Every Sun is the closest we get to something off of Caprice Enchante, it’s all Every Time I Die guitar flails, The Chariot-esque time signatures, distorted vocal barks, mangled bass tones and thunderous drumming. This one-two slam with the slovenly The Overlook, which burns with dark, sinister energy through its stabbing, fire-forged noise-metal attack, with Sayell roaring about “escaping to the unhallowed ground….” work excellently together, and you’re almost welcoming the taunt graveness of Apex Prey, featuring Whiting again, adding her voice to Sayell’s almost soothing vocal drawl, backed by this solemn piano and tense percussion.

That There’s Fighting Talk is a bizarre cross between the electronic hum of Holy Fuck (wonderful use of electronics on this, it has to be said) and the rage of Botch coupled with this stabbing beatdown of chopped-up riffs, dance-rock beats and elements of swirling, chaotic mathcore leaking out from the edges. “I talk about violence too much” intones Sayell in an almost robotic, dead chant which suits the tone of the track, which sounds like someone instructed AI to write a post-punk song in the style of Aphex Twin. Absolutely love the closing moments of this, the chewed-up synth lines are so wonderfully deranged and damaged sounding, giving this the feel of totally pulling itself apart, but managing to keep the wheels on – just about.

When I Pray To Liars rears its complex and frankly devastating head to round off Galore, you know that TSPSI has left the best to last. This song is fucking phenomenal – the rage and emotion that it spews are so cathartic and venting, it feels like you are expunging some kind of demonic entity from your body. You will want to destroy things at the start, it spews this grinding, explosive, purging blast of energy and it’s frankly, wonderful. There’s a real sombre depth to this in places though, alongside Sayell’s emotive vocals, the inclusion of the synths (which by the way, play a huge part in my enjoyment of this record, and are used to just the right amount) makes me feel equal amounts of hope, despair, anguish and resolution due to the way they fucking bang all the way through this with such ferocity.

Like Caprice Enchante before it, Galore is a staggering piece of work – The St. Pierre Snake Invasion has excelled in crafting something that boils with burning love and infectious energy and finds new ways to challenge, disrupt and revolutionise the sound of heavy music. Get on this immediately if you want to hear one of the best albums of 2023 – a fantastic achievement and an incredible return, genuinely cannot recommend this enough.

You can pre-order Galore by The St. Pierre Snake Invasion from bandcamp or buy direct from Church Road Records. Treat yourself to one of the most interesting, diverse, chaotic and creative rock albums of 2023.

Links

The St. Pierre Snake Invasion
TSPSI Twitter
Church Road Records

Band: Regal Cheer
Album: Cans
Label: Beth Shalom Records
Release date: February 2023
Sounds like: Japandroids fighting Joyce Manor over a six-pack in the park

First thing, I love the simplicity of the artwork for Regal Cheer‘s debut album. Does exactly what it says on the tin (can) and I’m all for it. In fact, if it wasn’t about half 10 in the morning I’d want to sink a cold one whilst listening to this, as it would be the perfect pairing.

Regal Cheer consists of Max and Harry, a guitar and drum duo from Brighton who also shout themselves hoarse over the brief, but blistering 17 and half minutes that Cans has to offer. No one track on this breaks the 2 minutes 30-second mark and to be honest, I’m all for that.

Knee-jerk reaction? This absolutely rips. We’re not about reinventing the wheel or discovering fire here, what we are doing is setting the round-shaped object alight and lobbing it down a massive hill, shouting, hollering and whooping with maniacal glee.

The opening track, P.P.L. muscles its way into the party, swinging a huge bag of cans (heh!) roaring at the top of its lungs and latching this ear-worm of a chorus (“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again If you’re uncomfortable then don’t think twice“) into your brain, whilst mashing in some of the best frantic, low-fi punk rock, gang vocal chants and blistering drumming into a scant minute and 40 seconds. Woof. Castanets throws more of the same and is perhaps even more raucous with the dual-vocal chant of “It’s not that cool you know, it’s not that cool you know!” which I imagine sounds fucking amazing live. The feeling here is that Cans is a scrapbook of slogan-worthy chants, in a similar vein to The Bronx, and to be honest, I absolutely love it.

The feeling of cutting bitterness on Cans is delightfully summed up on Ante, with the line “I’m somewhere, where I’m surplus to requirements/but I couldn’t care less” sums up the sense of feeling redundant but also not giving a shit and being incredibly withering regarding commenting on it.

Some cracking call-and-response vocals split between Max and Harry on Tenner, from talk of chemical burns that never shift, to the changing weather, it’s a bruising and brusque blast of energy that leads nicely into one of the slightly calmer moments in the form of Forest, which reminds me of Hot Water Music, complete with a chanting gang-vocal introduction, that whimsical emotive-punk rock bounce, and that need to progress, failing to and ultimately feeling that frustration.

There’s a strong cohesive nature to Cans and Regal Cheer’s whole aesthetic – the hooks are massive and sink in deep, whilst the sloganeering of their lyrics (“You can hit the nail on the head But the nail will hit you right back”) from That’s What We’re Here For in particular, are fucking massive, as is their amped-up, brash, fiery punk rock abandonment.

Behavioural Patterns features drummer Harry on lead vocals and is a tight, aggressive, drum-led track of furious, spitting bile and one of the bluntest tracks on an already pretty maniacal and direct collection of scathing songs. On the Ground concludes Cans with a sardonic, almost Future of the Left (see Singing of the Bonesaws) style drum pattern, and again features some brilliant anthemic choruses, a lighter tone to the guitars, but still furiously upbeat, brimming with this vibrant, day-glow poppy-punk bounce and finishing with more excellent gang-vocal roars, which are frankly sublime.

Verdict? This is ridiculously good fun. A short, sharp blast of unrelenting, trashy, thrashing noisy punk that straddles the line between the infectious briefness of Joyce Manor (back when they wrote 10-minute-long albums) and the caterwaul calamity of early Japandroids mixed with the scuzzy fervour of The Dopamines. Love it to bits.

Get the drinks in and download/stream/purchase a copy of Cans below from Regal Cheer’s Bandcamp.

Links

Regal Cheer Instagram
Regal Cheer Twitter

Band: Torso
Album: A Crash Course in Terror
Label: APF Records
Release date: 27 January 2023
Sounds like: John Carpenter fighting Michael Myers soundtracked by Motorhead on fire.

When all good things come to an end, you often think – “ah that’s it, nothing but disappointment from now on.” Hold your horses though. When London’s Possessor decided to throw in the towel after their final release, the excellently noxious and rabid, The Speed Of Death EP, there was much dismay in the APF Records camp. However, crawling from this freshly dug grave, before you have a chance to salt the earth properly, Torso rises. The brainchild of Possessor frontman, Graham Bywater, Torso continues the themes set out by Possessor but embraces full 70s and 80s horror with soil-encrusted hands and a nasty bite.

First of all, I absolutely love the first minute and a half of this. It’s like someone pressing play on an old 80s VHS; I can picture the synthwave graphics flying in, the tape tracking bar flickering across the bottom of the screen, the John Carpenter-esque sounds that tie it all together, and then suddenly “TORSO!” is announced and it crashes headlong into this driving bass-riff, a rolling blast of crusty, horror-punk; imagine Zeke but wearing corpse paint. Heads Start to Roll is like the opening chapter of some kind of schlocky, horror movie – it’s flamboyant, boisterous, and brimming with axe-swinging debauchery.

The second track, Pranks, deviates somewhat from the teeth-rattling, white-knuckle ride of the opener and is a more ambient piece, but no less sinister. Possibly reversed vocals, drugged-out, haze-inducing keyboard flourishes, distorted voices and cries (possibly of help) are melded together in this miasma of unsettling, trippy noise.

The groove on Sinking Spell is deliciously infectious; Bywater’s harsh vocal bark, is suitably distorted through the gritty production as he chants “dead or alive?” like some maniacal executioner, whilst the grinding guitars and bruising percussion crunches past with vicious, post-punk energy, a glammy, 70s rock ‘ n roll strut, with the heavy use of samples woven in for good measure. There’s more ambient noise on the way with Depth Charge, at 2 minutes in length, it’s brief, with the familiar distorted vocals, buried in feedback, chanting “TORSO!” at every opportunity, with this echoing, reverb, scrawling guitar and eerie, ghost-like chimes to really cement the fear and unease.

The clear stand-out track on A Crash Course In Terror is of course, the thumping Precious Blood. “SOULS LAID BARE ON A FOREST FLOOR!” Roars Bywater and the line “YOU CAN’T KILL ME, BECAUSE I’M ALREADY DEAD!” sets the scene of this macabre, slasher-movie track that is laden with swirling, fuzzed-out noise, stocky, stoner-rock grooves in the vein of the must-missed Torche and the charming tongue-in-cheek riff-tastic silliness of Red Fang.

The third interlude, Death TV (great name) feels more sci-fi than the previous, horror-based efforts, taping into elements of drone and this weird hypnotic rhythm, but sadly, isn’t as interesting as the previous two and feels a bit throwaway.

At nearly 8 minutes, the final track, Circuit Breaker Breaker is the longest track on A Crash Course in Terror and perhaps the most intriguing. Here we have the best use of the samples; they are intertwined expertly at the start, as this progressive stampede of spluttering, retro heavy rock noise spews forth with sinister menace. Bywater’s whispered vocals of “break…the circuit” herald this bombastic shred of rolling horror rock, which is all flamboyant riffage, and sporadic air-guitar worship and feels absolutely breakneck in execution, tapping into that Carpenter Brut (yep) synth-rock crossover worship perfectly and brings to mind the themes of Alan Silvestri or Brad Fiedel on the Terminator soundtrack – that implacable, infectious sound that won’t stop until you are dead.

To conclude, A Crash Course In Terror is a great starting point for Bywater and Torso – it taps into the many great things that made Possessor such a unique and interesting band and Torso just amps up the terror and inventiveness to new levels. Would love to see more of that crossover into synthwave as Torso’s sound progresses – let’s see what the next album brings.

You can purchase, stream, and scream your face off to A Crash Course in Terror by Torso via the link below.

Links

Torso
APF Records

The king of Grunge – aka, Jackson Murray drags himself away from the pyramid of Ferrero Rocher to educate us on his top 10 albums of 2022 – let’s take a look!

10. Chat Pile – God’s Country

This has to be one of the most devastating albums released this year. It’s certainly one I have to be in the right mood for but rewarding all the same.

Check out: Grimace_smoking_weed.jpg

9. The Callous Daoboys – Celebrity Therapist

This album from the Atlanta-based hardcore band blends The Dillinger Escape Plan and The Chariot-style chaos with a pop sensibility not far away from Panic At The Disco.

Check out: Title Track

8. Soul Glo – Diaspora Problems

This is a furious hardcore that comes across like a modern-day Bad Brains, but one that goes to many different places.

Check out: Gold Chain Punk(whogonabeatmyass)

7. Matelotage – Mayday

This is the debut album from the San Diego band that play an accessible brand of noise rock. Spicy!

Check out: All Lies

6. Intechnicolour – Midnight Heavyweight

This second album from the melodic stoner UK-based band is a huge step up from their debut, Big Sleeper. Get on it!

Check out: Turn it Loose

5. Drug Church – Hygiene

This fourth album from the alt-rock-infused punk band continues the same path they set out on their previous album, Cheer.

Check out: Detective Lieutenant 

4. Down I Go – Aum Shinrikyo

No one quite sounds like Down I Go. They are a mix of hardcore, noise rock, jazzy horns and a 100 other ideas. Very hard to classify!

Check out: A Busy Morning In The Springtime

3. Lizzo – Special

This is probably the most out-of-the-ordinary thing I’ve ever put on these lists. Pure pop brilliance!

Check out: About Damn Time

2. Birds in Row – Gris Klein

This is the French trio’s third album and most accessible yet. This is like a noise rock version of Touché Amore!  

Check out: Water wings

1. Spielbergs – Vestli

This second album from the band has an incredibly lo-fi production but still manages to come across as joyful and wide-eyed.

Check out: When They Come For Me

10. Chat Pile – God’s Country

I imagine this will be appearing on a lot of end-of-year lists and quite rightly as well. I mean, this is, for all intents and purposes, FUCKING horrible to listen to at times, but you have to admire the dedication to the craft of making something so disgusting and difficult to experience. I mean, it’s noise rock Jim, but not as we know it. The drums are devoid of any feeling, just cold and calculating, the bass sounds so sludgy, murderous and coated in slime, whilst the vocals are that of a man having a possible full-blown breakdown for 40-odd minutes. Why is an incredible 3 and a half minutes of questioning everything from going outside to the fabric of reality whilst I Don’t Care If I Burn is a haunting spoken-word piece backed by the sound of a knife being sharpened, a crackling fire and broken glass being swept up, punctuated by a horrific scream that comes out of nowhere. It’s all about the 9-minute closer grimace_smoking_weed.jpg that cements this as truly one for the ages, harrowingly bleak, inventive and brilliant all in one.

Listen to: grimace_smoking_weed.jpg

9. Cassels – A Gut Feeling

This is an odd but brilliant record. It starts with an 8-minute track (Your Humble Narrator) that probably shouldn’t hold your attention as long as it does, but my god you better believe we’re listening to all of that. Tension is ramped up to the highest degree, with the intonation of guitarist Jim Beck something that really burrows its way into the core of your brain – part spoken word, part end-of-level boss gloating, all trepidation. The disturbing video of consumerism-bating Charlie Goes Skiing will make you feel uneasy, whilst the blistering post-punk will have you cutting some seriously angular shapes as you attempt to dance. Mr Henderson Coughs is another slab of meaty, scratching, bending noise, whereas Dog Drops Bone is so fucking heart-breaking and sad I don’t think I could listen to it again. A Gut Feeling is a beautifully constructed portal into a world populated by scathing instrumentation and broken, raw lyrical witterings.

Listen to: Charlie Goes Skiing

8. The Chats – Get Fucked

Now, I’m not convinced this is as good as their debut, but it’s bloody close. Get Fucked barely lets up, songs are splattered all over the road like messy roadkill; vocalist Eamon Sandwith seems to have such humourous contempt for his craft, which is quite wonderful to hear as he roars, shouts and belches his way through every track on this with barely contained fury. 6Ltr GTR is a masterpiece of 2-minute punk rock, The Price of Smokes is an almost wistful ode to the cost of ciggies rising, whilst Ticket Inspector is laced with pure spitting venom at not being able to pay your fare whilst I’ve Been Drunk in Every Pub In Brisbane is the age-old tale of going out on the fucking piss, something that The Chats excel at. Excellent party album, not big, not clever, but bloody good fun.

Listen to: 6Ltr GTR

7. Black Midi – Hellfire

We waxed lyrical about Black Midi last year and yes, we will do it again. Hellfire, the follow-up to last year’s Cavalcade and it’s even more bonkers, madcap, offbeat, experimental and chaotic, if that was at all possible. There’s an almost hypnotic flamenco affair to the cryptic-horror of Eat Men Eat, whilst Sugar/Tzu is a full-blown carnival mashed into a jazz-rock fusion number about a couple of boxers in the year 2163 and lead single, Welcome to Hell, is a barrage of off-kilter rhythms, antagonistic spoken word, Primus-esque delivery, rapid-fire hardcore and this big pompous, circus macabre to round it all off. That’s not to mention the second half of the album which is fucking bonkers (The 7 minute The Race Is About To Begin is a complete headfuck of noise and frontman Geordie Greep talking about horse racing) and 27 Questions rounds things off in a deliciously weird and odd-ball way, pounding keys, wailing brass, avant-garde pop rock and this feeling of growing uncertainly, angst and even delight.

Listen to: Welcome to Hell

6. Wet Leg – Wet Leg

Whilst hype can be a dangerous thing, sometimes it’s entirely justified. Wet Leg’s debut self-titled album is a tremendous piece of work, mixing biting sarcasm with infectious-as-hell driving guitar rock, with elements of drawled post-punk (Angelica), slacker-pop sing-a-longs (Supermarket) and the absolute ear-worm forever one-two punch of Chaise Longue and Wet Dream. The melodies through these 12 tracks are dangerously addictive – any of them could be a hit, any of them could be your favourite song and Rhian Teasdale and Hester Chambers, the masterminds behind the band, know that. They’ve crafted one of the breakthroughs and best albums of 2022 so just have a listen, yeah?

Top track: Ur Mum

5. Thank – Thoughtless Cruelty

Thank (the only good band from Leeds) make angular, angry, humorous and thoroughly disturbing music and Thoughtless Cruelty, their debut, after a string of well-received EPs, is bloody brilliant from start to finish. A sly dig at religion exists throughout this, making it a wonderfully macabre, sinister and cutting (Plausible Deniability, No Funeral) listening experience. Heavy use of electronics, alienating noises, brass and frontman Freddy Vinehill-Cliffe’s ranting, spoken-word diatribes litters this agitated, scything noise-punk spectacle making it one of the most interesting and daring albums of 2022, especially the track about Derek Acorda’s letting agent business (Dread). You know, there’s never been a good band from London.

Listen to: Dread

4. Martha – Please Don’t Take Me Back

Album four from the Durham lot and to these knackered ears, possibly their best. Not-so-hidden beneath the joyous pop-rock/punk rock sound is layers of scathing bile in the lyrics about how fucking shit everything is because of the Tories. “Drain the blood from every diamond/On this damp and hateful island” just about sums it up on the anger pot that is Hope Gets Harder; whilst FLAG BURNER gives two huge fingers to the flag-shagging public and politicians (“I smoked the cigarette that burned the flag/
And I loved you more with every single drag“) and Baby Does Your Heart Sink? might be one of the most perfectly crafted rock songs of the year with a wonderful guitar solo to boot. Fantastically pissed off, righteously antagonistic and fuelled with fervour, Please Don’t Take Me Back is a wonderful, cathartic experience. Fuck the Tories.

Listen to: Baby Does Your Heart Sink?

3. Viagra Boys – Cave World

Man, the swagger on this is ridiculous. From the opening scuzzy punk rock sass of Baby Criminal, which is all Stooges-esque horns, mixed with swirling, grunge rock, driving keys, all led by Sebastian Murphy’s evil-Elvis vocal drawl. Lyrical themes draw from prehistoric man ( the tuneful noisy punk of Troglodyte), to conspiracy theory-style ranting (the cutting and over-the-top sarcasm of Creepy Crawlies). It’s the slacker cowboy strut of Punk Rock Loser that really hits the mark for showcasing the skill with which Viagra Boys write such interesting and infectious melodies though. Ain’t No Thief is wonderfully obnoxious and antagonistic, with Murphy spitting his vocals in such an aggressive and fearsome way; it’s the angriest they’ve ever sounded on here and stands out as a clear highlight. Also, one cannot help but feel Glazed by Rocket From The Crypt was some inspiration for the chaotic noise-punk mash-up of Return to Monke that closes the album in a glorious ramshackle fashion.

Listen to: Ain’t No Thief

2. Carpenter Brut – Leather Terror

Leather Terror took the template that made 2018’s Leather Teeth so essential and upped the game, considerably. This is a darker record in places (see Greg Puciato’s fearsome contribution to Imaginary Fire and Gunship’s Blade Runner-esque The Widow Maker) but also retains some of the technicolour, danceable synth-worship camp that we heard on Beware the Beast and Hairspray Hurricane – take, Lipstick Masquerade which is an absolute dance-pop blast of fun featuring the superb vocal talents of Persha and the slow burn sorrow of …Goodnight and Goodbye from Norwegian’s Ulver, which is frankly, stunning. Leather Terror is a fantastic addition to Carpenter Brut’s arsenal of music and one you need to discover and worship if you’re a fan of synthwave, horror films and John Carpenter.

Listen to: Lipstick Masquerade

1. Down I Go – Aum Shinrikyo

Only Down I Go would have the nerve to write an album about a (still active) Japanese Doomsday cult, and boy does it suit their sound. Embracing the love of brass that was ever-present on 2015’s You’re Lucky God, That I Cannot Reach You, Aum Shinrikyo is a jazzy, horn-laden, prog-metal, hardcore-meets-noise rock tapestry of infectious, jaw-dropping exhilaration and chaotic dark energy. From the gang-vocal chants of mining Uranium on opener Banjawarn Station, to the big-rocking hero-worship of Follow No-One Else to the crushing metallic Dillinger-esque onslaught of final track, Execution, this is simply a masterpiece of modern metal. Not enough people will know this or even buy it (it’s pay what you want on bandcamp) which, like the actions of the real Aum Shinrikyo, is absolutely criminal. Album of the year, as vital as the oxygen we breathe, fucking flawless.

Listen to: You Don’t Leave

Favourite EPs of 2022

Demons – Swallow

Do you want 5 minutes of caustic, angry, noisy hardcore done in 4 tracks? Of course, you do. Demons don’t mess around on this tape release on Knife Hits Records, smashing through these songs in the fastest way possible – maximum aggression, no frills, just damage.

Robot Death Monkey – Intergalactic Party Powder

Get out the bong, 12 beers, your Hawaiian shirt and shades, it’s time to riff, my son. Robot Death Monkey are back with more tales of drunken debauchery, excellent rhyming couplets and the kind of solos worth selling your soul for. Just glorious speed-stoner rock to kickstart the party – get some kittens and coke in, stat.

Care Home – Assisted Living Part 1

There’s something oddly morbid, uplifting and disturbing in equal measure about Care Home‘s sound. Made of ex-members of thousands of other bands you will love, this alt-punk, meets noise rock hybrid of churning riffs, slovenly synths and cutting lyrics is one I keep going back to and discovering new things. A real hidden gem for the year and one to definitely check out.

Henry Blacker – Where Is My Power?

Goddamn, I love these dudes. Giving a more groove-edge to their sludgy sound that was present on 2018’s The Making of Junior Bonner, this three-tracker is brilliant in execution, the title track talks of the best ways to defend a castle, through these driving post-punk riffs, whilst Lowering Mass is a slurred, key-led pound of morose grunge-infused noise rock and Breached is a scathing, sneering diatribe of hate. Lovely stuff.

Sugar Horse – Waterloo Teeth

Fucking. Hell. This collab-EP enters the hell-dimension in places for miserable-post-whatever types Sugar Horse. From the frankly horrible (i.e. excellent) sub-2 minute opener Disco Loadout which is all crushing riffs and a fucking cello, it goes into almost smooth jazz on the title track, before the deception kicks into the wall of caustic noise, whilst Gutted, featuring most of Conjurer is disgustingly heavy for 2 and a half minutes, before morphing into something fairly dreamy, before the nightmare comes crushing back with bruising force and trauma.

NOBRO – Live Your Truth Shred Some Gnar

Probably the most fun EP you’ll hear this year I reckon. NOBRO make spiky, jagged, punk rock (with a sound that makes me think of Jon Spencer Blues Explosion in places) that will leave a big stupid grin on your face with a twist. Take the opening bars of Better Each Day – the first minute of this is all handclaps, and gospel-style keys, before launching headfirst into this rampant beer-soaked joy of glorious keyboard-led punk excellence. No doubt, you’ll be chanting “Eat! Slay! Chardonnay!” in no-time – just the best fun.

Blacklisters – Leisure Centre

Because they’re fans of the Brittas Empire? No? 90s joke. Leeds oddball noise makers Blacklisters return with more obnoxious sounds in the form of this 4 track tape release and it mixes their trademark charm, wit and nonsense perfectly. It’s cacophonous as you would expect, with Why Deny It? The stand-out track, features hypnotic, layered vocal ramblings, (“I think I’m starting to enjoy this!”) whilst the off-kilter saxophone that blasts out of nowhere is really something. Fucking weirdly brilliant.