Naysayers, when whining about how hardcore died in 1986 or whatever year they stopped listening it, condemn this kind of music as nothing more than stunted vocabularies, monkeybeats, thudding guitar riffs, and an increasing emphasis on fashion and style. For the most part, they’re right, but every so often, bands like Vitamin X or the Gordon Solie Motherfuckers come along and it’s just one chairshot to the face after another. Fast, but not ridiculously so, allowing the drummer to play some of the most inventive stuff I’ve ever heard a thrash band play. Thankfully, the guitar sounds closer to the Zero Boys than Youth of Today, and the singer never veers off into cookie monster territory or any “wasn’t Morrissey great?” interludes. This whole record flies by like a tornado of buzzsaws, duct tape, dirt, and blood. Couple this with their last album, and you’ve got yourself forty-something songs of prime hardcore listening.