‘Kingdom built where nothing grows, Blade rusts as I’m filled with shame, The mirror won’t speak, But knows my name’ (Silk & Sodom)

As well as the usual South London avian stalwarts of swaggering crows and sharp-eyed magpies, we’re blessed in our patch with a totally mental flock of parakeets – their raucously endless chatter brightens even the drabbest of the days.  So, as short hand renderings for our impending doom go, A Garden Without Birds pretty much nails it for me.

This is Ruined Virtue’s debut 7-inch and these four tracks follow up their self-titled demo from last year.  The Sheffield band continue to hone a sound drawing inspiration from late 1980s’ UK metallic crust punk, before injecting a rhythmic fury akin to more contemporary New York influences, in the vein of say Warthog, and then leavening the grit and the grime with searing flares of NWOBHM accented melody.

Meanwhile, the filthily roared vocals conjure a bleakly allegorical depiction rooted in images of flesh and decay, bone and soil to evoke the economic system that is remorselessly cannibalising both people and planet for the benefit of the gilded few.  And from the barrelling brawn of Long Pig to the choppy grooves of Ghoul 96, and then from the crushing martial breakdown that closes Silk & Sodom to the bristling fury of the title track, the desperation of our baleful future is mercilessly laid bare.