Blasting this makes me feel like I’m being caught up in something that’s absolutely out of my control: being tugged out to sea by an undercurrent, say, or caught in the hot, clammy press of a crowd that’s crackling with tension. It’s discomfiting but also exhilarating – a manic ride that’s full of cruel vocal barbs and nerve-testing scrapes. The label mentions Battalion Of Saints as a point of reference – not a name to drop lightly, but one that’s absolutely on-point given the ugly, coruscating purity of these five visceral punk songs.
