There’s no slow burn, no gentle introduction, no attempt to ease the listener in. From the first seconds it’s clear exactly what this EP sets out to do, and to its credit it accomplishes that mission with unapologetic force.Self-confessed 90s/00s hardcore worship as their descriptor doesn’t get much more accurate. Afraid To Die wear their influences like a badge of honour, and in most ways you’ll know exactly what to expect going in on their debut EP, Hell Is A Place In My Mind.
This is fight music. It’s music to spin-kick into someone’s face to, music for two-stepping in the pit and stage diving without a second thought. It gives you everything you want out of a hardcore record in bunches and then throws in a little extra weight for good measure. There’s a familiarity to the sound, but it never tips over into tired or derivative; it feels more like a loving reconstruction of a formula, that whilst it has never needed fixing, lends itself so well to being sharpened and refined or broken down completely in chaos and we have a little bit of both here. The quality is there to justify such shameless idol worship though; they’re not ripping off the greats, they’re paying homage to them.
Gogol Bordello have never been a band to shy away from experimentation , amalgamations, or fighting against the curve. Eugene Hütz’s merry band of continental punks return with their first release since 2022’s Solidaritine, a release steeped in personal feelings that acted as an outlet to speak up during a time of political unrest. And while the landscape of the world may not appear any brighter some three and a half years later, We Mean It, Man! not only provides warmth but a slew of anthems that will bring people together even more.
Perhaps most strikingly of all on first listen to the record is the band’s evolution from their more usual frantic energy to a punchier, more fine-tuned, and full-bodied output. Working alongside producers Nick Launay (Nick Cave, Yeah Yeah Yeahs) and Adam “Atom” Greenspan (Amyl & The Sniffers, IDLES), this record evolves from the band’s more synonymous folk-punk to a more futuristic sound, incorporating more techno-like beats and a belief that each track’s individuality could lead down its own musical path in a completely different direction from the last.
Spat out of the realms of TikTok and Instagram reels, TX2 is a mildly talented artist who seems to want to make his poorly masked self-loathing of being the same height as a hobbit your problem. A career built on some of the worst MacBook metalcore (stretching the word metalcore to its very limits) you’ve ever heard, crowd plants for ‘viral’ tiktok videos and lyrics designed to make 30-second clips drag on like the uncut version of Das Boot, he’s somehow amassed a following, but then again, so did Jim Jones and look how that turned out.
Dressed like someone the Daily Mail threw into one of those temporary goth shops to promote their anti-emo pieces in the 2000s, TX2 (or Timothy to his friends) is a horrendous indictment of how normal people view alternative music. It’s music to refuse to tidy your bedroom to, or something you play when you think someone at school is bullying you because they bumped into you once in a crowded hallway. It reeks of hairspray and cheap nail polish, but in a way that makes a mockery of itself. His previous efforts leave bloody, torn fingernails at the depths of the barrel with their warped takes on self-harm, sex (in a very off-putting, braggadocio manner) and being an outcast. Sonically, he veers between latter-day Bring Me The Horizon tracks that didn’t even make the drawing board, Simple Plan and an Asking Alexandria cover band, gaslighting listeners with distortion as a guise for heaviness and snark as a guise for having a personality. It’s only two steps removed from that insane genre of Instagram music where badly tattooed weirdos whisper-scream into a microphone in their parents’ box room. There appears to be so little actual substance to the man, but his lack of personality and off-putting presence hints at a thrift store suit and a slot in right-wing media, denouncing his music and seeking Jesus in less than a decade.
It Happened One Night is an all new, yet overwhelmingly familiar jaunt through the sort of screamy, technical metalcore that anyone in the age range of 30-45 would be overjoyed to hear. The First Five Songs is a blisteringly short nine minutes, where you’re blessed with aural dissonance, catchy hooks that’ll worm their way into your brain like that bug thing Trinity extracts from Neo’s belly; and Dillinger Escape Plan-esque weirdo chords punctuated in a strict staccato manner.
It all begins with ‘Fucked Capacitor’ and from the very get-go you’re under assault. The raw screamed vocals, backed up by the pounding cannons of blast beats and off-time riffs. The melody and bassline jig all over the songs, not really giving you a moment’s rest (this is in no way a bad thing), leaving you gasping for air by the end of the track.
Once in a while a band will come along where it seems as if they are incapable of releasing music that falls short of phenomenal, and Converge have long since proven themselves to be one of those bands. Love Is Not Enough continues that trend with an almost defiant confidence, the sound of a group that refuses to become comfortable, let alone complacent. Where others mellow with time, Converge seem to sharpen their blades instead, delivering a record that feels urgent, purposeful and completely alive.
With their latest release the Massachusetts hardcore innovators give listeners something that feels familiarly them, but far from tired. There’s the usual chaotic, frantic riffing courtesy of axe-man, producer, mixer and all-round genius Kurt Ballou, but it never feels recycled or predictable. His guitar work is razor sharp, abrasive when it needs to be and unexpectedly textured in the key moments. Jacob Bannon’s throat-shredding roar, iconic and synonymous with everything Converge, sounds as violent and vital now as it has for the past 35 years and shows no signs of slowing. There’s raw conviction in his delivery, falling from him like an extension of his very being, as if every word is being dragged out of him rather than simply sung. The rhythm section of Nate Newton and Ben Koller keep the whole machine rolling — drums beaten to within an inch of their lives, basslines that thunder and roll like a coursing river beneath the chaos. These are all of the things we have come to expect from Converge, so what makes this stand out?
To Gild the Lily: to improve or decorate something that is already perfect, and therefore spoil it. (Cambridge Dictionary)
To say this is a bold choice of idiom to invoke in naming an album is an understatement up there with the Spartans’ famous reply to Philip II of Macedon:
“If I bring my army into your land, I will destroy your farms, slay your people, and raze your city.”
“If.”
Now there don’t appear to be any armies involved here, nor any cities to raze, but there is an album to review, and one that invites comparison to a somewhat unflattering idiom, no less.
The first thing to take in about this album because it’s front and centre from the off, is that there are many competing styles in play here. There’s kooky, off-kilter 80s alt vibes, heavy gurgling synths, what sounds uncannily like 90s indie rock, soul-inflected vocals that could be straight out of early 90s R’n’B, some pretty post elements, a bit of goth lurking in the darker corners, and an overall sound that doesn’t appear to have decided what it wants to be yet.
