Now, to call this hardcore one needs to specify that this isn't the macho meathead stuff that rolled in sometime during the late 80s that gets fat guys with bald heads and goatees talking about when they remember Warped Tour before "it got all corporate." This hardocore is the kind that was made by the spazzy kids that got beat up by the macho meatheads for being "punk rock faggots" or whatever the insult of choice was at the high school you were attending.
Sounding like they landed right in the middle of midwest hardcore of yore such as Die Kreuzin and the damaged rage of more recent bands like the Bad Noids, these eleven songs clock in about twenty minutes total and not a second is squandered from smearing vitriol. Caught on tape in scuzzed and crackled quality, guitars sounds seriously mauled as the blare and grunt, the drummer probably starts to worry that his arms are going to fly off if he's asked to play even faster and the singer probably takes a break between each song to guzzle curdled milk and swallow some gravel to keep his voice in top shape.
It's all heads down and running straight into a burning warehouse that stores bleach and other toxic items used in households every day. Even if they come out in one piece, this is an audio equivalent of the long lasting aftereffects of the exposure to them.
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