In the first year after I discovered where DIY was in my town, I went to every show I heard about at the two local punk houses I knew. Whatever was on was what I got into—and, given the particular time and place, what was on was bleak, dirty, larynx-shredding hardcore, often with a gloomy inclination toward metal or chaotic screamo. Thus was laid the groundwork for my taste in punk. This demo could easily have been something I picked up for two bucks at some shadowy merch table in that formative year. The vocals are a harsh and indecipherable bark, less communicative than textural. The music is equally aggressive, but the band breaks up the onslaught with some scattered moments of moody guitar. Even the production is familiar in the best way. That tape warble, that silver-Sharpied title, the way the volume plummets three seconds into each song… man. Shit like this was everything back then. Thumbs up for keeping it going.
–Indiana Laub (Self-released, [email protected], cotillionhc.bandcamp.com)