ANCHORS: Lost at the Bottom of the World: CD

The evolution of metal-core is a mystery I don’t think I’ll ever solve. It went from Cro-Mags breakdowns, basketball jerseys, and windbreaker pants to crew cuts, skinny jeans, and melodies galore. One thing I know I’ll never be able to figure out is where the element of danger went. I don’t need to know much about this band to know that they more than likely are from the suburbs, have money (studio time ain’t cheap!), and that they openly embrace iphones (fair use: it’s in their thanks list). All that comfort and privilege equates to nothing more than safety and is anything but threatening. The roots of hardcore have always been punk—whether anyone involved wants to admit it or not—and, quite frankly, there’s nothing punk about any of those qualities. It’s a shame to think that maybe, just maybe, I could be into this because when the bright spots really shine, this sounds like a very potent blend of Sick Of It All, Good Riddance, and All (Chad Price era). When the haze settles, however, all I see is forty five dollar hoodies, bouncers at the door/stage, and kids texting before, during, and after the show as they drive home in their parent’s Audi.

 –Juan Espinosa (Creator Destructor,