Labels: Stonehenge
Review by: Alex Deller
A band who left behind a relatively meagre legacy, but changed the hardcore landscape in the process. The body died years ago, and countless bands have mauled the carcass ever since, tearing off strips for their own inspiration, sometimes coming up trumps (Orchid, Shikari…) but more often sounding like dismal, clammy-handed imitators without even a hint of the original greatness. Finally, here we have it, swishly packaged and on one featherlight sliver of silver plastic, their entire oeuvre coughed up for the world to revel in. So what did Uranus sound like? Something like crawling through a sewer pipe on your belly, elbow deep in shit and muck while hungry rats the size of small dogs brood all around you, chattering among themselves while staving off the kill. Dirty, metallic, insidious and, above all, fucking ferocious. Doom-laden and icily calculating, Uranus were equally capable of smashing out a pulverising wall of noise or letting their jagged chords ring over a thunder of drums beating like a call to war, topped with some truly sick, rasping gargles that seemed more the product of demonic possession than feeble human lungs. The fact that this music still sounds fresh, vital and alive a decade on is staggering, especially in the wake of countless bands playing similar-sounding, portentous, octave-led hardcore these last few years. Simply put, Uranus vanquish all pretenders, even from the grave. And if you only buy one of the many discographies that will doubtless be churned out this year, make it this one.