Review by: Kunal Nandi
Sweet tittyfucking Christ, what the hell just happened? Saying a hardcore band sounds angry nowadays is kind of like saying they use guitars and drums. It’s a given. So it’s utterly heart-warming to find a band toiling away in the middle of Buttfuck, Nowheresville who sound like they totally fucking mean it on this, the most unholy eight-minute racket I’ve heard in years. Call it power violence if you like, as there are crushing slow bits intermingled with the blistering speedy moments, but each member of SFN is doing some seriously strange things at times, battling each other as well as their instruments, with them coming together at key moments before shooting off into the stratosphere again. So killer, it actually killed me. To death.