Labels: Waking Records
Review by: Alex Deller
Hugs are in town with their second full-lengther, and what a treat it is!
Somewhere deep in their bones lurks the modern emo-hardcore sound plied by the likes of Off Minor, all skittish, complicated guitar lines, clattering drums and a chaotic approach to their tunes that suggests things are on the verge of disaster. This is countered by a heaviness of sound generally unfamiliar to this type of music, the band seeming to genuinely attack their instruments as they play, every note treated with a bare minimum of dignity as it is knocked, wrung or kicked out into the fray. Guitar lines snap and spark like downed electrical cables, roughhousing alongside quickfire palm-muted chords, as a hoarse yell duels away with a higher-pitched scream, both belting out angry, politicised lyrics that should strike shame into the hearts of those having nothing better to sing about than starry nights and fallen angels.
Interestingly, there’s a near-total absence of the prettier introspective parts that we might associate with bands of this ilk, one solitary quiet moment surfacing during Run before dashing back into yet more thunderous noise. Rather than lacking texture, this omission focuses Hugs’ music, strips it of all cumbersome ballast and allows these thirteen songs to be driven on like a bullet train to oblivion.
So this, my friends, is where it is at: atom-splitting hardcore that should warm the cockles of everyone out there who fails to see any sort of dividing line between hardcore and emo, knowing that the spirit, the motive and the engine that drives them are all the fucking same. With The Tarpit Hugs have something very special on their hands, not just one of the best records you’re likely to hear this year but a goddamn clawhammer to the head of every average piece of re-hashed shit you’ll hear in the same period.