Metalcore will never die. Sure, it may exist in some bastardised, boardroom-approved form in some bands who will remain nameless but true metallic hardcore will always be there. It tickles all the right parts of the brain. Anger, frustration, sadness, euphoria and in some rare cases, all of these within a single track. It can be pigheaded and at times it can be a little reductive, but there’s a reason that a genre invented in the late nineties still inspires so much adoration and worship.
Placed firmly at the front of the pack of the modern throwback metalcore scene are Foreign Hands. Having seen their star continue to rise over the last few years, the Delaware natives blend of modern crunch and plenty of hero worship has won them fans across the world. The band’s last EP, a tour-de-force blend of Poison The Well, 7 Angels 7 Plagues (there’s a Matt Mixon feature on ‘Until The Sun Fades’ that will warm the hearts of old school ‘core heads), and Eighteen Visions to name but a few received near rapturous adoration, from fans old and new. Yet the band, driven by creative force Tyler Norris (who’s also part of the nu-metal revival of the 20s in wristmeetrazor) weren’t content to become a soundalike, they wanted to carve their own path.
Despite the album flying by in just over half an hour, the band cram so much simultaneous hero worship and their own stamp on the genre into the runtime. The wild, whirling guitars of opener ‘Resetting The Senses’ give way to crashing, chaotic drums and that classic, catharsis-ridden mix of screaming and singing. When the clean chorus kicks in you’ll be transported to a sweaty club venue, desperate to grab the microphone to butcher the beauty being conjured here, such is its effect. There’s even a brief, melodic bit of spoken word in there for good measure. The album’s first half is a breathless cacophony of heavy, fast metalcore. It’s also some of the best you’ll hear this year, maybe even this decade so far. The blend of the past with the present is ridiculously on point, with their contemporaries such as Boundaries influencing their sound and presence as much as bands like Misery Signals.
It’s been a long five years since Outlander’s last LP. It’s almost felt like a lifetime even; today’s world is such a drastically different place to optimistic one that greeted The Valium Machine back in 2019. But to rush is not the Outlander way. In a fashion that harkens the creative ethos of the slowcore collective’s previous tourmates Bossk, the band’s records are to be savoured. In direct odds to the instant gratification that many have come to expect from the music, Outlander’s work carries a weight that can only come from a prolonged creative gestation process. This was true for their fantastic two track EP Sundowning/Unconditional back in 2021 and it’s further highlighted with their new record Acts of Harm, a slow, glacial record that unfolds slowly yet wonderfully.
A continuation of the monochrome isolationist nature of the 2021 EP aforementioned, Acts of Harm is not for those wishing for a quick dumb dopamine hit. Nor is it for anyone longing for a something upbeat or anything that would even remotely be classed as sounds of summer. Harkening that icy, glacial punishment of Kowloon Walled City and the meditative shoegaze of Hum, Dusker and Cloakroom albeit with that iconic UK twist, Acts of Harm is a record reserved for those quiet nighttime hours of longing and reflection; ideally reflection upon one own’s uneventful life characterised by mundane repetition and the monotone motorik rhythm that propels it.
The fuzzy opener ‘Bound’ and the proceeding ‘Want No More’ make this apparent in a way that’s disarming. Reminiscent of the bleak shoegaze of old and with the languished vocals of Ian Grant wallowing in the distortion, these tracks fit like a well-worn jumper or hoodie. It’s comforting, retable and inviting with it’s longform slowgaze. It’s an atmosphere most heavy and immersive, and ultimately, the way it presents the mood of modern living is potent to be verge of being suffocating. It’s impossible not to ruminate on the futile nature of modern living and the decline of life satification that comes with the humdrum nature of an anxiety-riddled adulthood here.
Hailing from Norwich with a wicked approach that perches on the post-hardcore branches in the style of Single Mothers and Drive like Jehu and decorated with the leaves of sharp and angular indie rock. Dark Ageism is more honed and sculpted effort than the frantic ‘Soft Action’, its storytellers charm leans into the post-hardcore occupied by Pile and Mewithoutyou and its an appendage that’s a pleasure to watch bloom. Engineered by Owen Turner (Magoo) and entrusting the mix to Tom Hill (Death Goals, Modern Rituals) is a harmonious pairing, capturing jagged, distorted indie rock, dripping with emotion and championing the dark and ugly corners of our island and how important it is to celebrate and preserve our opportunities to writhe in the gutter and gaze at the stars.
Guitarist and Vocalist Cals tuneful sneer and the soft cradle of Soapys backing tones are a great double act to present the witting and charming stories being told, whether they be celebratory or doom-mongering the delivery hits with a furious impact. Beginning with ‘Lifted Fingers’ which leads at a melancholy pace building in fuzz and distortion as Cals tortured vocals revel in the doom every footstep etches towards. It begins to heighten in intensity until we are greeted with our figure of hope as Matthew Caws (Nada Surf) injects some wonderful optimism to reveal the hopefulness at the heart of the song. Just as quickly as the melancholy fades the capability to bring an angular assault to the table feels just as natural for Other Half, bringing back shades of Single Mothers and the rich vein of noise ‘Soft Action’ brought to the table.
Presented like a call to arms against the transphobia being brandished by governing powers and warring pop culture figures, New Wave Of British Transphobia sees Gender Warfare distilling the potent energy synonymous with their infamous shows into musical chemical weaponry to be used against those who defy their existence. And as one can expect, there’s nothing subtle or held back here. This is the sound of hardcore, punk and dance orientations chemically fused, and like the thought of hardstyle being blasted at Outbreak Festival or the sounds of The Armed being emitted from a sound system in a desolate warehouse in a Danish industrial estate, this is pure ceaseless bedlam that’s going to confuse some yet hype others.
Opener ‘NWOBTP’ sets the tone of the record musically and thematically from the offset; glitching ambience snaps into vitriolic hardcore that jerks into breakcore against distorted bellowing in the tone of righteous and urgent protest. The EP starts as it continues; violently. But such is the point and intention as ‘Cissmass’ and leading single ‘(I Am Not Your) Dude’ allude to. As the former erratically twitches with the same sporadic fervour of the aforementioned likes of The Armed, ‘(I Am Not Your) Dude’ tackles the subject of those who defend using so-called gender neutral expressions with a rage that escalates to a hardstyle gabber backdown that’s almost more intense than anything that could come from the realm of hardcore and its ilk. If anything, this song – and breakdown to be exact – is the encrustation of this EP and Gender Warfare as an entity; it’s harsh, thrillingly intense, experimental and delivered with a sense of authentic rage that is required to truly combat the bigotry that is being waged against marginalised groups.
There’s a beauty in chaotic music. Sure, it isn’t for everyone, and if left to the wrong hands, it can just sound like a musical mistake. However, when the chaos is honed just right, when the instrumentation and lyrics collide like atoms in a super-collider, something violent yet mesmerising is born. That’s what Tether, one of the most exciting bands in London’s bulging post hardcore scene sound like, the kind of music born from the back rooms of bars that ends up spilling pints and claret all over well-trodden floorboards, but in the way that makes those nights of danger some of the best of your life.
Formed in 2018 but having their momentum curbed by COVID, Tether are a mixed bag of emotions, mixing eye-to-eye level intensity and unease with cathartic, emotive soul searching. Take frontman Justin Jackson; not only does he possess an energy and spark potent enough to stir up the sleepiest venues across the world, his lyrics depict a man looking for his place in life. Whether that be personal relationships, life in a band or the state of the world, his heart is poured out on the page in a style that’s part Frank Carter, part Keith Buckley and there’s a healthy dollop of Jason Aalon Butler in there too. Whether it’s soaring choruses and insidious earworms or commanding, goosebump-inducing growls, the man can do it all like pretty much nobody else at the moment.
Which for us is a truly welcomed act, due to receiving a rather exhilarating present we would have never of known we needed, until we got the chance to sample its complex balancing act between enchanting brutality and arresting bewitchery; the experimental and post metal legend Julie Christmas, has long enticed the scene with their beauty and the beast-esque championing coupled with their expert musicianship, which is now perfectly exemplified with the latest release of their second studio album – Ridiculous and Full of Blood.
