Labels: Victory
Review by: Tom Hughes
This shit is depressing. As much as hardcore means a million different things to a million different people, it’s frightening to think there’s any common ground between Black Flag and this meat-headed hateporn horseshit. Hoods, from Sacramento, bash out tough guy metal hardcore of the stupidest and ugliest kind, all with that weirdly upwardly mobile (sponsors, street teams, “lifestyle promotions”) Victory slant. The music is so grey it barely registers: nondescript pro moshcore; fuck all but a whole lot of pneumatic, downtuned impotence, veering gracelessly from done-to-death NYHC chug to shit guitar-shop metal. Even the pulverising, merciless ill-will of the lyrics “” an apparent hymn of hate to the writer’s parents, slavering threats of “twenty-on-one’ crew rumbles, and so on “” doesn’t seem to have the force of real fury so much as that of some kind of posi-baiting anger fetish or adolescent out-hating impulse. Always preferred hats.