‘A scar across the land, A blister burning with the crimes of history, Shackled to corrosive force, inherited wealth and corrupt law, Kneeling and bending and snivelling’ (In The Yolk)

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t just a little excited for this one.  Both of Gimic’s fiercely inventive EPs left me keen for more.  Just as the heartfelt conviction of their live shows never failed to refresh, the equivalent of being doused in icy water on exiting hot and sweaty from the underground during this furnace of a summer.  And have no doubt, New Traditions unequivocally delivers on these hopes.

Gimic’s distinctive clean guitar hardcore is built around three integral elements.  At times each can almost seem to be exploring their own path, but then they all come together with a snapping synchronicity.  First, the brightly lean guitar, which tautly writhes in one moment and then fleetly dances in the next.  A limber rhythm section that brings a funky dexterity to bear and yet, without ever overindulging, is more than capable of matching the intricacies of the guitar when demanded.  And, finally, vocals that spit out each and every word with a raw, passionate clarity as they dissect a society ripe for exploitation by opportunist grifters and hidebound by a failed political consensus, its social contract in tatters.

Throughout, the Bristol band tease and stretch their influences into new shapes, refracting them their magpie instincts primarily through the lens of 1980s’ Washington DC hardcore, and rarely straying from the disciplines of sub-two-minute song craft.  That said, the album’s centrepiece is undoubtedly the more expansive, slow burn of the title track itself – the passage when the drums drop out and cleaner sung vocals, cracked with emotion, intertwine with the mournfully coiling guitar is simply killer.

Either side of this, the pleasures are more directly abrasive and no less satisfying for it.  The searing urgency of Read The Rune and the supple contortions of Dark, Darker set the tone.  Before, the one two of Begging To Die – with its mesmerising bass line – and the deft juxtaposing of skittering guitar and barked disdain on Disintegrate seal the deal.