Four tracks of grubby, ugly hardcore that’s the aural equivalent of trying to walk with a busted ankle. Everything grates and grinds and it’s all just so damn painful, from the serrated riffs to the dual vocals that are by turns hollowed out and scraped off. There’s a simplistic insistence driving this forward that makes me think of old anarcho punk but, like Bad Breeding, Fealty are thankfully dragging things into the horrific present rather than lingering in an idealised version of punk rock’s past.
