Touch of North America
I spun the first track three times in a row (which took less than six minutes) in hopes of successfully deciphering the lyrics to extract some meaning. All I really came away with was the very last lyric: “sur-viiiiiive….”
And that’s just what you’ll have to do to these quick, calamitous storms of hardcore punk pugilism and upper-cutting provocation – It’s essence is exertion, the celebratory nature of plugging it, cranking it up, riffing three chords into a couple of choruses and forgetting the fucking bridge all together, just enough space above the drums and distortion for the lower growl and higher screech of dual-lead vocalists to have a throat-scratching summit of hellish harmony, like in “Water Whippin”
Things slow down for the four minute closer, “Choppas,” a dangerously-sparking lawn-mower-on-the-moon type till of psyche-doom.
Survive these jams live at the Trumbullplex on October 11th (more info here).