Review by: Adam Fleet
Open letter to all current bands that fancy themselves a bit nasty, grim and nihilistic.
The new Dystopia record is out. Give it up. You might be a big wheel down at the cracker factory, but that doesn’t cut any ice here. Dystopia’s long rumoured posthumous swansong finally hits turntables around the world, and it is the soundtrack to your pointless, lonely, miserable, cretin infested life. It is the record playing in the back of your mind, as you fantasize about stoving in the bonce of some numbskull, who was damn fool enough to foul up your day with his own selfish, dimwitted prickery. No self pitying boo-hooing going on here though. As the first bass note creeps out of the speaker, it’s unmistakable who you are listening to. They certainly showed no signs of winding down here, and this stacks up admirably against anything else they did. Just pure, glorious nihilism. Bleak, oppressive venom. Exasperated rage at the complete black hole of piss and shit that is the World at large. Admittedly there is no ‘Backstabber’, nor ‘Stress Builds Character’ here, but compared to the dark bilious rage puked at you by Dystopia, all other bands are but mere kittens prancing through dewy meadows.
The irony of a band called Dystopia being this close to perfection should not be lost on you.