‘Cuándo murió la coherencia? Cuándo murió el sentido común? Cuándo restaron todas la fuerzas? Y enterraron la lucha en un ataud’ (Molestia) / ‘When did coherence die? When did common sense die? When did all strength fail? And they buried the struggle in a coffin’ (Inconvenience)

Hailing from Mallorca, this is Lakra’s debut release and it’s an absolute banger.  The gnarly, desperation soaked vocals sit right up in the mix, supported by occasional flares of energetically contrasting support.  Meanwhile, the guitars are tautly stripped back and underpinned by a fiercely primitive rhythm section.  The key lies in the fizzing dynamics of Lakra’s song writing as they deftly marshal these core elements.  Each of the EP’s five tracks seethes with a primordial energy and an uncompromising clarity of intent.

From the savage climax of Desconocimiento General (General Ignorance) to the jags of wiry post-punk melody that define Molestia, and from the stomping fury of Muerta (Dead) to the menacing vehemence of La Sonrisa (The Smile), the band’s intensity is as invigorating as it is unforgiving.  The searing rage is provoked by the stifling conventions and self-interest that seek to repress difference, strangle the expressions of youth, and suffocate the aspirations for social change.

‘Consejos que son ecos, De su propia frustración, Exterminio del pensamiento, institución estudia, Construye un futuro, emancipación, No quiero creer en su sucio juego’ (Loca) / ‘Advice that echoes, Of your own frustration, Extermination of thought, institution studies, Build a future, emancipation, I don’t want to believe in your dirty game’ (Crazy)

Criminal is the debut release from Tenerife’s Eskolopendra (Centipede) and the trio have honed a richly atmospheric slab of bleakly melodic punk.  The musical palette is tightly constrained as a crisply metronomic rhythm section locks-in with the darkly lean guitar.  This austerity provides the perfect platform for a freewheeling vocal performance, one that sweeps from the stridently urgent to the sardonically detached, from spitting venom to brooding pensively.

It proves an intoxicating partnership, not least on the irrepressibly contagious Actitud (Attitude) and the tensely bristling No Hay Futuro (There Is No Future).  It also matches the fiercely controlled anger that defines the album – a fury at the suffocating everyday chains of social convention (Loca / Crazy) and misogynistic attitudes (Los Chicos / The Boys), and at a society geared towards protecting privilege and entrenched interests at the expense of progress and basic decency (La Ley / The Law).  The coldly seething Odio La Tele (I Hate TV) provides a suitably bracing climax.

‘Cuando las ciudades, Arden en llamas, Mejor escucha y mira, Como cambia el cielo, Recuera que la muerte, Siempre corre a tu lado’ (Sabes Quién Soy) / ‘When cities, Burn in flames, Better listen and see, How the sky changes, Remember that death, Always runs by your side’ (You Know Who I Am)

Suicidas are a Barcelona-based punk band, whose members have also played in a myriad of projects spanning Belgrado, Irreal, Ruidosa Inmundicia, and Tàrrega 91′.  While the band remain intermittently active in terms of live shows, their five EPs, including two splits with Mallorca’s Trance and New York’s Pox, were all recorded between 2012 and 2016.  Éxitos Y Fracasos (Successes And Failures) consolidates all fifteen tracks into a single album.

Tightly crafted, darkly melodic punk has always been the band’s calling card, the trio revelling in juxta posing a deep-seated sense of melancholy with their innately infectious melodicism.  The heart of the band’s sound is built around the stridently energetic dual vocals as the weave together tales of broken dreams and bitter betrayals, grappling to overcome the despair and anxiety that results.  Personal standouts are the serpentine Cuerda Floja (Tightrope) and the raucously escalating Corriendo A Ciegas (Running Blind) from the band’s 2012 self-titled debut EP, together with the plaintively arresting Sabes Quién Soy (You Know Who I Am) from their 2015 split with Trance.

‘Adormecidos una vez más, Para sobrellevar diez mil maneras de pensar, Lo colectivo, lo tribal, ya no más, Es la alienación final’ (Endredados) / ‘Lulled once again, To cope with ten thousand ways of thinking, The collective, the tribal, no more, It’s the final alienation’ (Tangled)

We live in a world where debate and contestation of ideas have been largely foreclosed by technocratic governance.  This absence has provided fertile ground for the increasingly malevolent discourse that pollutes public life.  Not so much conflict as punching down at the behest of self-serving grifters and demagogues.

This blistering seven track d-beat onslaught from Lima’s Vorágine (Maelstrom), on this their vinyl debut, bleeds with the frustrations of a life where we seemed locked in an endless cycle of soul sapping repetition.  The echo-infused vocals bark in torment, while the dissonantly distorted guitars and frenetic rhythm section are not shy of locking into their bruising groove amid the chaotically raw barrage.  The savagely convulsing Endredados and the deceptively catchy title track hit home with a particular velocity, as does a cover of Ataque Frontal’s Ta No Formo Parte De Esto (I’m No Longer Part Of This) from their self-titled 1988 album.

‘I’m feeling wild, But I think that it’s ok, To fall off the rails, For a little while, Everybody falls off the rails, For a little while, I’m falling off the rails again’ (Off The Rails)

It is the unspoken itch.  Not ever present, but also never entirely absent.  That desire for a dose of unashamed pop punk – pumping fists and open roads, or at least vigorous head nodding on the tube.  The problem when the itch does awaken itself, is finding exponents of this mysterious art capable of satisfactorily sating the need.

For while, on face value, it can appear a superficially straightforward sound, the reality is rather different.  The songs have to appear as though they have been fired off almost spontaneously, brazenly impromptu.  Yet, in fact, to succeed they must be anchored in the fine detail that provides the earthy depth to the breezy veneer.  And the pace must be irrepressibly upbeat, while ensuring that the wave of ninety second eruptions doesn’t merge in on itself, nor lose momentum to the temptation of unnecessary fripperies and self-indulgence.

Not many have mastered this delicate balance.  But a band who undoubtedly has, is Philadelphia’s Dark Thoughts.  Featuring members of fellow Philly bands Delco MFs, K.O.S, and The Ire among others, they are returning for their fourth album, and the  follow-up to 2020’s Must Be Nice.

Eleven tracks in fifteen minutes.  The riffs have just enough hardcore heft to root them properly.  The punchy rhythm section never errs from the snappily foot tapping.  The nasally melodic vocals will have you singing along without hesitation, not least on the regret-tinged Mike’s Dream and the wildly careering Sparkling Water.  You may even find yourself succumbing, at least temporarily, to the pragmatic optimism that beats at the album’s heart.  So, next time you get that itch, reach for the invaluable scratch that is Dark Thoughts.

Mexico’s Los Revolucionarios and Sweden’s Myetri combine forces to deliver seven tracks each of hardcore fired melodic crust on this split album.

There are significant notable shared attributes between the two bands.  Both have been active for just over a decade and have three full-lengths and another split LP to their name.  Both continue to relentlessly hone their thunderous melding of driving hardcore rhythms and soaring melodic crust.

‘El estado fallo y siguen desaparecidos, Me accompana el dolor, sonrisa falsa y traicon, El estado me quiere matar nos quieren someter, Traicon del estado y muertes, muertees’ (Desaparecidos) / ‘The state failed and they remain missing, I am accompanied by pain, false smile and betrayal, The state wants to kill me, they want to subdue us, State betrayal and deaths, deaths’ (Missing)

Side one sees Los Revolucionarios front and centre.  Theirs is an interpretation that draws eagerly on the dynamics of their hardcore influences to construct a darkly lean, emotionally charged onslaught.  This is particularly vividly captured by the seething climax to The Fall and the fiercely escalating velocity of Fire Inside.  The vocals, which alternate between guttural roars and rasping ferocity, explore the silent complicity, corruption, and violence that continue to shroud civic life in Mexico.

‘De som förblindats av hat bortom hotets rökridå, Raserar grunden som demokratin vilar på, De som förblindats av hat står enade med varan, Men faller till sist offer för sin egen fruktan’ (Pestens Tid) / ‘Those blinded by hatred beyond the smokescreen of the threat, Eradicate the foundation on which democracy rests, Those blinded by hatred stand united with each other, But ultimately fall victim to their own fear’ (The Time Of Plague)

Side two sees Myteri take over the reins.  The Göteborg band favour a more avowedly dramatic expression of their base elements.  This nurtures the deep sense of melancholy that defines their sound.  It is equal parts sorrow at what has come before and hopeful defiance that better is to come, as is embodied by Psykisk Terror (Psychic Terror) and Age Of Disinformation.  Meanwhile, the powerfully roared vocals deconstruct how systemic misinformation is fracturing our lives and sowing the malevolent seeds of political extremism and social intolerance.

‘The oligarch devours, Tear the flesh from their bones, A compost for a new world to grow, Bloated ugly corpses, A stench most foul’ (Stench)

Mass forced deportations, soldiers patrolling the streets, democratic and scientific institutions being systematically degraded, and the contagion of authoritarian rule slowly seeping into a nation’s lifeblood.  The rot is, indeed, thickening as autocracy becomes the new reality.  Minneapolis crust punks War//Plague have been challenging this ever-accelerating descent for over fifteen years and make a thoroughly timely return with this, their fifth full-length.

Muscular, metallic riffage and a galloping, cymbal awash rhythm section form the band’s backbone.  Swells of sombre melody and brightly unfurling solos flare through the wider battery, which leans into a discernibly more amplified stenchcore influence than on previous releases.  A bleakly allusive tableau of decay, despair, and death is evoked by the forcefully guttural, semi-shouted vocals as they contemplate a society seemingly locked into a cycle of greed and self-deception that will see it consume itself.  The surging Sacrifice and doom-mired Burn graphically capture the insidious atmosphere of desolate foreboding as it builds with a merciless intensity.

‘Media control, Suppression of dissent, A network of lies, Manufacturing consent, Walking into the new normal’ (Walking Into The New Normal)

London-based Mortar return with their second full-length of d-beat fuelled metallic crust with this follow-up to 2023’s Fire And Steel.  First things first, this album sounds massive.  Every element feels dialled up to the maximum – not blown out but rather big, burly, and bristling for the fight.  Importantly, amid the unrelenting rhythmic d-beat onslaught, space is given for the bruising riffs to breathe, while squalling solos and occasionally flaring melodic accents add further texture.

The semi-growled, semi-shouted vocals are drenched in urgency as they survey an atomised society that ignores the true causes of its plight in favour of scapegoating the already marginalised.  This refusal ferments increasing right-wing extremism that, in turn, heralds an authoritarian turn, leaving the world at the mercy of corrupt oligarchs and delusional warmongers.

From the barrelling opener, When There Is No One Left To Be Killed to the groove-laden Special Military Operation, and from the bludgeoning Living In The Shadow Of A Nuclear War to the slab-like fury of Walking Into The New Normal, there is no respite to be found.  This is a wholly uncompromising album in both execution and conviction

‘Příslib jistoty a lepších zítřků, Zářící pozlátko vyleštěny krví, Co zbyde až usadí se prach? Zábava lidí páchnouci smrtí’ (Pustina) / ‘A promise of certainty and better tomorrow, Shining glitter, polish with blood, What remains when the dust settles? Entertainment of people reeking of death’ (Wasteland)

Hailing from České Budějovice in the Czech Republic, Entrapped return with their second full-length, Světlo Je Mrtvý (The Light Is Dead).  The cover art homage to Bolt Thrower’s Realm Of Chaos ensures that expectations are well primed before the needle drops and unleashes the trio’s crust punk infused take on late 1980s’, early 1990s’ European death metal.

Downtuned, buzzsaw riffage, braided through with flourishes of mournful melody, is underpinned by a remorseless rhythm section as the band fuse together their menacing mid-paced groove with crushingly heavy breakdowns and frenzied blast beat eruptions.  Meanwhile, the savagely demonic Czech vocals conjure a bleakly dystopian future of authoritarian oppression, endless war, and environmental collapse.  This fierce blend hits home with particular velocity on the swaggering opener Poslední Vize Nekonečna (The Last Vision Of Infinity), the brutally intense title track, and the choppily compelling Hrobařův Průvodce Po Galaxii (Gravediggers Guide To The Galaxy).

‘Un eco silba lejos, Cada muro guarda, Secretos, líneas muertas, “Somos polvo en el aire”, El olvido se hace eterno, Un letargo tan glacial, Un desorden sempiterno’ / ‘An echo whistles far away, Each wall keeps, Secrets, dead lines, “We are dust in the air”, Oblivion becomes eternal, A lethargy so glacial, An everlasting disorder’ (Nimbus)

First discovering Joliette was one of those fine nights when you go to a gig and are simply blown away by a band who you barely know.  I’d popped along to Bermondsey’s DIY Space back in 2018 to catch Cassus, who were as excellent as ever, but knew little of what to expect from the evening’s headliners.  I was soon left reeling by a performance of absolute searing intensity, an unrelenting push-pull between velocity and intricacy.

Joliette are now back with their fourth full-length, Pérdidas Variables (Variable Losses), a seething psycho-geographical evocation of their Mexico City home.  Drawing on both physical and psychological inspirations, the impassioned vocals explore the routines and ruptures of urban life through the intertwined threads of memory and loss, renewal and decay, the comforting and the disconcerting.

Musically, the band continue to forge their own thoroughly distinctive emotional hardcore, deftly exploiting the tensions between their chaotic screamo and more expansive post-metal influences, while never diluting the hardcore heft that firmly roots their sound.  The powerfully supple rhythm section relishes both the complex and the spare in equal measure and provides the perfect foil for the serpentine, fiercely melodic guitar.

From the surging agitation of Limítrofe (Borderline) to the darkly pulsing Cielo Sordo (Deaf Sky), the fervency of Joliette’s embrace is all enveloping.   The album’s impact is, perhaps, though best captured by the title track itself.   The haunting guitar lead coils around your heart with a mesmerising stealth, sucking you ever deeper into its reverie, before the ethereally layered vocals deliver an utterly cathartic release.

Totem is Pygmy Lush’s fourth album and was initially recorded in 2016, but the band entered an indefinite hiatus before it could be released.  With Pygmy Lush now reanimated, it has thankfully been saved from the recording archives to herald their return.

Pygmy Lush are arguably the very definition of ‘post everything’.  They are the project that three members of pageninetynine went on to found after the dissolution of that band.  And musically, they draw greedily yet inventively on a palette of influences that span from hardcore to gothic Americana, by way of noise rock and even a dash of grunge.  This is their first full-length since 2011’s Old Friends, and it manages to conjure an atmosphere where each of the elements feels warmly familiar yet, at the same time, strangely unsettling as they continually morph and reformulate in quite unexpected patterns.

Jarring post-hardcore eruptions, such as the opener House Of Blood (Butch’s Monster), form the album’s abrasive scaffolding.  However, it is on the more experimental tracks where the band hit their most compelling stride.  From the eerily propulsive drone of Algorithmic Mercy (Prayers Printed Directly Into A Shredder) to the languorously escalating February Song, and from the darkly infectious The Puppeteer to the expansively shimmering close of Nonsensical Whimper, it is an album that teases and distorts its inspirations into alluring new shapes. It proves a richly hypnotic soundtrack to a world that seems to be inexorably, inescapably disintegrating before our very eyes.

‘A silent spring, An offering, Soil swallows whole what used to cast a shadow, Disintegrate, accept our fate: man must fall’ (All Is Dust)

Those unfortunate enough to share my home will know that, when my mood reaches a suitable depth of rueful contemplation, I am prone to reaching for Bleached Cross’s recent split album with True Faith, Columns Of Impenetrable Light.  The desire to belt out the chorus to the absolutely banging Grief’s Eternal Wound simply becomes too overwhelming.  Very uplifting for me, rather less so for everyone else.

Having missed the band’s self-titled debut album when it was first released in 2022, I was delighted to see that it was receiving this second press.  Hailing from Chicago and featuring among their ranks all three members of Frail Body, Bleached Cross have adopted ‘oppressive post-punk’ to describe their music.  And while this certainly captures the haunting claustrophobia that permeates their music, it rather understates the vibrant 1980s’ pop sensibility that vividly colours these more sinister impulses.

Bleakly melancholic guitars and coldly pulsing synths are fuelled by industrial inclined percussion, while the powerfully melodic lead vocals and soaring choruses are underscored at varying times by both scathingly blackened eruptions and contrastingly uplifting choral flourishes.  This decidedly heady mix proves a darkly atmospheric foil to the lyrical exploration of the ravages of grief, religious delusion, and humanity’s own increasingly fraught future.  Personal stand out tracks are the desolate euphoria of Mercy and the swirling, mournful eddies of All Is Dust.

Regular touring partners Skizophrenia! and Deletär join forces to unleash a raucously contrasting split four-track EP.

‘Don’t wanna live, In your delusion, Erase my existence from there, Throw away stereotype, Look with your own eyes’ (Stereotype)

Side one sees Japanese raw punks Skizophrenia! take centre stage.  Both of their tracks, Stereotype and Needless, are reworked versions of tracks previously released on now rather hard to find compilations – 2011’s The Action 7-inch and the more recent 2024 SKZ Omnibus CD respectively.  Active for some twenty years, the Tsuyama-based band unleash a typically high-octane onslaught that sees the catchily upbeat melodicism of their 1980s’ SoCal hardcore inspirations filtered through a rather more caustic lens.

‘Justice expeditive, Justice biaisée, Defense bâclée, Un avenir detruit’ (La Balance Et Le Glaive) / ‘Expeditious justice, Biased justice, Botched defence, A future destroyed’ (The Scales And The Sword)

Deletär share a similar love of harshly boisterous hardcore, but their influences are decidedly more Scandinavian in origin.  Hailing from Saint-Étienne and featuring members of Bleakness, Bombardment, and Litige, this split is their first release since their second self-titled full-length in 2023.  Relentless waves of riffage are the cornerstone of their battery, while the bruising rhythm section remorselessly underpins the flaring solos and burly shout-along choruses.  The gruff French vocals tackle themes of a corrupted justice system (La Balance Et Le Glaive) and the paralysis of self-doubt (Funambule / Tightrope Walker).

‘Teet mitä tahansa sulle kerrotaan, Ei omaa mieltään tarvi käyttää ollenkaan, Sä olet kiitollinen etkä koskaan valita, Hymyillen antaa paholaiselle sielunsa’ (Sätkynukke) / ‘You do whatever you’re told, You don’t have to use your own mind at all, You’re grateful and never complain, Smiling, you give the devil your soul’ (Puppet)

Mua Et Voi Omistaa (You Can’t Own Me) is the debut album from Helsinki’s Plasma, who share their guitarist with Ignorance, and it’s an absolutely rollicking ride.  Firmly rooted in the traditions of Finnish punk, Plasma refashion these inspirations into an almost breathless, no-holds barred onslaught.  The swinging rhythm section, blessed as it is with some deliciously killer bass lines, is at the heart of the band’s sound, locking in to a taut synchronicity with the fiercely lean guitar.

The vocals veer from an urgent, rasping snarl to cleaner, more melodic expressions, by way of strident semi-shouted word tirades, with a seamless ease.  Lyrically, the album desperately confronts society’s self-destructive tendencies, calling out our knowing complicity in the cycle of exploitation, while reaffirming the importance of maintaining a robust sense of self amid the inhumanity.

The intensity doesn’t drop from even a moment, and nor does the subtle inventiveness braided throughout the aggression.  From the blistering Mätä Pilvilinna (Rotten Cloud Castle) to the unexpected psychedelic melodic flourishes of Ei Kunniaa (No Honour) and the raucous positivity of Katson Tulevaan (I Look To The Future), Plasma will not be contained.

‘Communidades destruidas, Em nome do progresso, Invadídas…Empurrados pela ganãncia, Obrigados a sair com intolerãncia’ (Genocídio Por Gentrificação) / ‘Communities destroyed, In the name of progress, Invaded… Pushed by greed, Forced to leave with intolerance’ (Genocide By Gentrification)

Hailing from Macedonia, Sistema Obsoleto (Obsolete System) make their debut with a seething 7-inch, Esmagado Pela Engrenagem Capitalista (Crushed By The Capitalist Gear).  The EP title sets the scene perfectly as does the band’s logo which draws on the band’s founding inspirations – the lightning fast hardcore of Totalitär and the anarcho-punk political convictions of Crass.  This is a vision that the band realise musically in compelling fashion.

Blistering fast, d-beat fuelled hardcore? Check.  Chunky bass lines and manically frenzied drums underpin the ferocious guitars and squalling, blues-tinged solos.  The first four tracks are remorselessly fast, before matters are brought to a crushing climax by the sludge mired closer, Ideias Venenosas (Poisonous Ideas).

Politically charged convictions?  Check.  The rabid Portuguese vocals weave together a compelling deconstruction of our late-stage capitalist malaise.  They tackle themes of economic exploitation on the title track, urban displacement on Genocídio Por Gentrificação, and surveillance capitalism on Alucinação Consensual (Consensual Hallucination), before O Oprimido Vira O Opressor (The Oppressed Becomes The Oppressor) explores the cycles of violence propagated throughout history.

‘Accumulated stress and frustration, Your mind full of noise, Let us hold tightly the hand that reaches out to the future, and liberate it’ (Discharge Your Noise)

Contrast Attitude, who come from Mie in Japan, have been unleashing a barbarous raw punk barrage for over two decades now. And, while they have a released an array of EPs and splits during this time, Discharge Your Noise is only the band’s second full-length, following their 2009 debut album, Apocalyptic Raw Assault.

And from the venomous riff that propels the aptly titled opening track, Relentless Assault, it is abundantly clear that the trio’s ferocity is as untamed as it ever was.  The bleakly distorted guitar retains a satisfying muscularity amid the dissonance and recklessly unhinged solos, as the swaggering rhythm section injects a notable rock’n’roll swagger to the savage fusillade.

Meanwhile, the harsh, barked vocals explore a world shaped by indifference and complicit silence in the face of social oppression and accelerating climatic meltdown.  However, it is not a narrative entirely without hope, remaining defiant that an alternative future can be realised.  Along with the opener, personal stand outs are the choppily surging Disclose Naked Myself and the bruising groove of the title track.

‘We sang the songs of the end times, Not knowing they’ve already come, Not quick like the slaughter of butchers, But a slow rotting evil, devouring one by one’ (Wasteland)

Subversive Rite were a New York hardcore band, active between 2016 and 2002.  They released their much-acclaimed debut album, Songs For The End Times, in 2019 and returned to the studio in 2022 to record their second, Apocalypse Zone.  Unfortunately, the band broke up shortly afterwards and the album was mothballed, with members of the band going on to play in a myriad of new projects, including Abism, Fairytale, Suffocating Madness, Tower, and Vaxine.  Thankfully, Acute Noise Manufacture have now saved the album to serve as a fitting swan song.

On this second full-length, Subversive Rite continue to hone their blistering take on mid-1980s’ UK hardcore, ferociously melding both UK82 and proto-thrash metal inspirations.  The band lean a touch more towards their hardcore roots in terms of the galloping rhythms, while the scorching melodic solos are imbued with a notably more metallic influence.  This influence is shared with the stridently clean, rhythmically taut vocals that can’t help but recall early Sacrilege, which is no bad thing at all.

Either side of the haunting mid-album interlude, these elements are fashioned into a battery that hits home with an unrelenting, bulldozer intensity.  This perfectly evokes the lyrical envisioning of a world hurtling inexorably towards a dystopian future of endless war and environmental breakdown.  Amid this unrelenting ferocity, the contagious escalation of Maniac and the bleak groove of Wasteland are to be particularly relished.

‘Countess Thatchula, Political vampire, Her reign of terror, Must soon expire, Sinks her fangs, Into this nation, Sucks out jobs, Spits out inflation’ (Thatchula)

Ripcord are a band whose long-term legacy has, perhaps, gone onto to outstrip their initial impact, as groundbreaking as that was.  By furiously melding UK82 and US hardcore influences, together with a healthy slug of thrash metal, the band unleashed a dynamic that was to undeniably reshape the future of hardcore punk.

The band hailed from Weston Super Mare and were a defining force in English hardcore between 1984 and 1998, releasing two full-lengths and a slew of EPs.  One of their earliest releases was The Damage Is Done, which the band self-released as a flexi 7-inch in 1986.  The nine tracks from this release constitute side one of this reissue, together with two additional tracks.

The remastering of the album is spot on – punchy and lending a fresh clarity without diluting the intrinsic rawness and just shy of sloppy ferocity that characterised the original material, including the distinctive crumpled drums.  And the tracks still burst with the seething fury that fuelled the era as the band challenged the warped Thatcherite ideology that not only inflicted huge social dislocation at the time but laid the groundwork for many of our current inequalities.  Kiss Of Death continues to land with a particular sledgehammer velocity.

Side Two captures a show in their hometown that same year.  The discordance is upped a further notch as the live intensity of the band is vibrantly captured in a nine-track set that includes six tracks from The Damage Is Done, plus three from the band’s self-titled demo also released in 1986.  The accompanying lyric booklet pulled together by Quality Control HQ and La Vida Es Un Mus Discos is excellent, including several extensive fanzine interviews with the band, as well as numerous flyers from the era.

‘Shake off future, Truth is now, Shake off past, Cry for the truth’ (Cry For The Truth)

Death Side are a Tokyo hardcore band that was initially active between 1983 and 1995.  They were at the forefront of the Burning Spirits movement that emerged in Japan during that period.  This connection has proven so powerful that their own name has become shorthand for the blending of harsh vocals and surging hardcore punk rhythms with soaring NWOBHM inspired leads and a notable sense of triumphant melodicism that defines that sound.

This reissue brings together all of Death Side’s non-LP output into a 40-track compilation.  It spans the band’s three 7-inch releases – 1988’s Satisfy The Instinct together with 1994’s The Will Never Die and All Is Here Now – and their 1993 split LP with Chaos UK, plus their multiple multi-track compilation contributions released between 1988 and 1991.  It vividly captures the band’s evolution from their rawest early iterations to their more muscular later expressions.

This project has clearly been a labour of love for La Vida Es Un Mus and includes a beautifully designed lyric booklet that is crammed with flyers, live photos, and artwork from the original releases.  Death Side members went on to play in Paintbox, Forward, and Judgement, before reforming for occasional live performances in 2015.  This reissue is dedicated to the band’s original guitarist, Chelsea, who died in 2007.

‘Sing a song of violence and listen for the sound, Of all the little soldiers start to come around, Start it with a rumour, a whisper in an ear, Suspicion don’t take very long before it turns to fear’ (Fear)

Zounds were initially active between 1977 and 1982 and were at the forefront of the UK’s nascent anarcho-punk community.  The Reading band released a solitary album, 1981’s Curse Of The Zounds, together with five 7-inch EPs during this period.  It is these EPs that have been collated together for this reissue.

The trio’s debut release was the three-track 7-inch after which the compilation is named.  Released in 1980, it represents what we would think of as being the classic anarcho-punk sound of this era – nasally, rasping vocals, bright, almost jangle adjacent guitar, and a loosely fluid rhythm section.  The fiercely agitated yet beguilingly melodic Subvert is a particular stand out.

From that point on, their repertoire takes many an unexpected stylistic turn, speaking vividly to the restless inventiveness that characterised this emerging scene.  It sweeps from the darkly tense, post-punk inclinations of 1981’s Demystification and 1982’s Dancing, to the more indie-pop sensibilities of More Trouble Coming Every Day in the same year.  The closing tracks come from the band’s final 7-inch, La Vache Qui Rit, which was also released in 1982 and saw the band return to a more raucously combative mode.

The album explores themes of war, social conflict, colonial legacies, and the power of collectivism, the lyrics typically steering clear of sloganeering in favour of more allusively layered constructions.  This is the second pressing of the reissue that Sealed Records first released in 2019.  As always, Sealed have pulled things together with a sensitive hand – the recording quality is excellent and the packaging neatly reimagines the aesthetics of the original releases.

‘Your cost of living has a price of human suffering, Your quality of life is paid for with human misery…The empire declines, the system’s a failure, you need someone to blame’ (Punishment)

Having cut their teeth on two bruising EPs, 2023’s World Of Hate and last year’s Time To Die, Portland’s Alienator return with a debut full-length that is as utterly uncompromising as you would expect.  Pit provoking breakdowns, piercing divebombs, squalling solos, and muscular group vocals are all fused together into a fierce, barrelling battery that neither seeks nor offers even a hint of mercy.

The highlights come thick and fast from the pulverising climax to the opener, Alienator, to the stomping groove of What’s Inside, by way of the surging riff that defines the title track.  Meanwhile, the gutturally roared vocals continue to focus on the seething hatred that the state of the world induces.  This rage steers clear of outright nihilism and is alert to not being sucked into a self-destructive spiral.  Rather it is framed as a positive force to be harnessed – only by recognising a system that entrenches privilege and scapegoats the disadvantaged can we confront and disrupt it.

‘Movements cooped, Designed to go flat, Our dreams exploited, Hope turns to a trap, Sustain a movement, Against all odds, Can’t make it last, No matter what the cost’ (Mara Baad Mara مرة باد مرة / Time After Time)

Ehteram إحترام (Respect) is the debut 7-inch from New York’s Pure Terror.  Drawn from the city’s pan-Arab diaspora, the band call on the poetry of June Jordan, Nizar Quabbani, and Samih al-Qasim.  In the accompanying booklet, their poems sit alongside the band’s lyrics and their themes of cultural identity and anti-colonialism frame the band’s own searing exploration of both the horror unfolding in Gaza and the lived experience of Arab émigrés to the US, as well as, more broadly, the challenges of sustaining political activism in our ever more atomised society

These concerns fuel an utterly visceral onslaught that melds stripped back, metallic tinged hardcore with pacing dynamics and semi-shouted vocals that draw more on anarcho-punk inspirations.  Side One kicks off with the seething Accused Of Terror with its fierce spoken word climax and the absolute martial fury of Mara Baad Mara مرة باد مرة, before the groove laden No Compromise and the furious Majnoon مجنون (Insane) bring proceedings to a crushing climax on the flip side.

‘Another distraction, Carrot on a stick, Need for attention, Just a piece of meat, Get what they want, Take Everything, Automatic compulsion, Puppet on a string’ (Human Meme)

There is, perhaps, no more self-destructive notion than that of the attention economy.  Yes, it seeks to grab attention, but by fracturing the thought processes of those it seeks to lure.  Scroll.  Swipe.  Hours disappear in a fog of the inconsequential and soon forgotten.  The ability to concentrate and focus becomes ever more fragmented, it is easier to plunge back down the rabbit hole.

Portland’s Retirement return with their second full-length and follow-up to 2023’s Buyer’s Remorse.  The waves of abrasively distorted guitar create a darkly menacing atmosphere, the rhythm section cutting through with a satisfying punch as the band surge between nastily fast eruptions and malevolent mid-paced stomps.  The aural manifestation of our disintegrating minds that is vividly captured on the rhythmically punishing Blind and the spitefully ominous Suffer The Law.

Meanwhile, the just shy of blackened vocals deconstruct the surveillance capitalism that defines our lives on Human Meme and Sell Me Something.  They also tackle the false equivalencies, double-speak, and moral distortions that enable people to seemingly be comfortable justifying war crimes and military aggressions on All Guilty and What We Deserve.  The album closes on the bleakly nihilistic Next Time – there is no hope for a society mired in exploitation and feeding greedily on isolation.

Two stalwart bands of Olympia hardcore, combine to unleash a split LP of contrasting styles unified by the uniform excellence of the venomous delivery.

The most successful split releases often draw on a shared musical inspiration and ideological outlook driving the participating bands.  The origins of this album are, perhaps, a touch more organic, being born instead of hometown friendship.  And the result is an album that sees two bands at the peak of their respective and quite distinct powers, trading five barnstorming tracks apiece.

‘A portrait of the mother of God, Looks down at me, Bleached from years in the heat and sun, It’s just debris’ (Barbed Wire Fences / Electric Chair)

Electric Chair open in surprisingly expansive form with the mid-paced swing of Weed The Rat Out, before firing off four utterly furious hallmark hardcore punk eruptions.  he vocals are as infectiously raw as ever, but notably cleaner than those that characterised their 2022 full-length, Act Of Aggression, and fiercely lock-in with the swaggering rhythm section.  Meanwhile, the guitar leads forge a more prominent role as they career from dissonant squalls to rapid fire melodic volleys.  This blend is, perhaps, particularly potent on the rollicking Barbed Wire Fences.

‘I will find my own strength, Refuse to accept this reality, The power in myself will remain, The path I walk is mine to create’ (Refuse / Physique)

In contrast, Physique deal in noise-infused d-beat of the most discordant kind and are back in action, having released both the Again full-length and Overcome By Pain EP in 2023.  In the wrong hands, this style can feel a rather overly formalised homage, but Physique have always proved highly adept at refining their sound in a way that honours their inspirations, while adding their own brutally distinctive dimensions to it.  On this EP, they dial down their trademark near white noise distortion just enough to allow their riffage to take a more solid form.  Amid the desperation drenched vocals, crashing cymbals, and flaring solos, this injects their apocalyptic onslaught with an even bleaker intensity, most notably on my personal highlight, the slab-like belligerence of Drowning In Debt.

‘Drudgery on the daily, Empty heads at work, No sun to shine, No moon to shadow, Hours of excruciation, Clock points to death’ (Drudgery)

Hailing from Halifax, Nova Scotia and Sewn Into Confusion is their second 7-inch EP, following 2023’s Overthrow.  Featuring Ben Radford of fellow Nova Scotians, Mutated Void, they share the same frenzied raw punk energies but refashion them through a more avowedly Japanese crasher crust lens.

The guitars are blown out, cavernously distorted, but not to the point that the riffs entirely lose their shape.  There can be barely a second where a drum is not being battered and a cymbal being crashed – the fills are utterly unhinged throughout.

Each of the five tracks is almost overwhelming in its intensity, before slamming to a brick wall finish.  Savagely raw vocals desolately evoke a world of manipulation and extraction amid the unrelenting barrage, with the bludgeoning closer Laughing Torture, perhaps, the highlight.