Final Fight & Life Long Tragedy - Split 7"

The 7-inch is a tricky format to make a really good record with. Due to its brevity, it often feels more like a showcase of the artist's material than a well-rounded record. But as far as the format goes, Final Fight and Life Long Tragedy's split on Deathwish records is one of the best "showcases" ever put to tape. Each side shows the pinnacle of each band's recorded output to date.

The first side by Final Fight kicks off with T.S., a solid but comparitively unimpressive cut that feels like a little bit of a false start, but all is forgiven when Rage kicks in. An anthem by any standards, it is undisputably the finest song in Final Fight's discography and one of the most perfect examples of melodic hardcore ever written. The song is a soaring and impassioned tribute to "all the people swallowed whole and ignored/tagged 'scary' by precious daddy's girls/left in fields to crack in the sun" and an angry attack on the mindless drunken culture of "disconnect and privelige" that is so easy to lose yourself in. As a song it holds a lot of meaning for me as it soundtracked a few months when it more or less exactly summed up my feelings about what was happening around me and, in a way, that sense of connection was comforting.

The Life Long Tragedy side shows no let-up in quality, demonstrating a masterful prowess both lyrically and musically. The two songs here easily rival anything that Modern Life Is War has done in terms of passion and quality and are painfully relatable for anyone who has ever experienced disappointment, depression or disillusionment. The lyrics in 'Sweet Innocence' ("And true love was just a marketed ploy/So guys could hit their lines and girls could grab their boys/Sweet innocence with loser's luck/I know you think you're giving love but you're just getting fucked") are incredibly bitter but ring so true that they hit you like a freight train. Despite the undisputably pessimistic outlook, some rays of light still show through, especially the emphasis on how important friends are amidst all the doom and gloom. These songs have helped me through a lot and I hope that perhaps through this they might at some point hold a similar meaning for others, too.

Shivering with you, we shoot our breath into the cold
We see the shine from a town that sucked the life straight from the desperate souls
And out in the distance are silhouettes from the headlights
That brighten up our faces and the tears inside our tired eyes
And I finally realized that no matter where we go
We'll never truly find ourselves if we only ever look alone
We drank too much and here's to us
'Cause we succeeded in forgetting that we were still alive
And I lost myself along the way, still got ambitions
Because hope is the one thing that keeps me going in the worst of times
I know I never claimed to have a heart of gold
I haven't been myself lately and I felt so strong a year ago
Silent cries for help echo through late nights and empty streets
And I'd suffer outloud but no one would care enough to be listening
Proving to our heads that our hearts have reasons to still beat
Is sometimes harder than it seems, so beat some life back into me
But on nights like this say "fuck the world" and pass the drink
We'll only be alive one time 'til we rot in hell for eternity
And when I'm burning I don't want to fucking regret anything
So if life's a joke then show your teeth and raise your glass and sin with me
-Life Long Tragedy; Soul Search Party

Ampere - All Our Tomorrows End Today & Split w/Sinaloa

"Young hearts don't always beat to standard verse & chorus", and that is certainly the case with Ampere themselves. Featuring alumni of the much-celebrated Orchid, they are one of the very finest bands currently active in the emotional hardcore scene, outstripping even their previous bands in terms of technicality, intelligence and impact. Those familiar with Orchid will be able to expect a logical progression in sound and extremity: the almost grindcore-like intensity and short song lengths leave no room for breath, the chaotic but intricate guitar lines grab you by the throat and the singer packs in as much lyrical wisdom into one song as he possibly can.

The band's most solid release to date is the full-length (if you can call it that, featuring 11 songs and lasting 10 minutes) All Our Tomorrows End Today. Opener 'Remain Unadapted' is the ultimate statement of intent at only 24 seconds, and the subsequent two songs, while increasing in length, still last under 45 seconds each. It is only at the fourth track that the real standout of the album is dropped: 'Woodlawn', the album's longest track at (gasp) nearly two minutes, is a powerful song about the loss of a close friend or relative that still haunts the singer. The culmination of the song, to me, is the part that is, interestingly, not written in the lyrics, where the singer screams "we have lost you" desperately, over and over again. The rest of the album from there onwards is, with the exception of the interlude 'The Old World is Behind Us', a barrage of more short, to-the-point outbursts, culminating with 'In Memoriam', a homage to the french situationists of the 1960s. My favourite thing about Ampere, as with many of my favourite hardcore bands, is the lyrics. They are full of a kind of confrontational, youthful spirit that seldom found in many current bands. Some may call them preachy or pretentious, but the thing that I like about Ampere's persistent message is that it essentially boils down to the idea that you should choose your own path in life without using fabricated and impractical ideologies as a crutch. It's an attitude that smacks of being fiercely DIY and punk, and this seems fitting given the likewise extreme musical approach Ampere take. The greatest virtue that they possess is the tendency to not waste any time in expressing an emotion or idea: there is not one note or lyric on the album that is superfluous, and this fact makes All Our Tomorrows a brisk but overwhelmingly affecting listening experience.

"everything we own, we have stolen. we've no regrets. obscurity and clarity collide. we've swallowed down these words for too long. all that is said can be disproved, and all that's not can be upheld. don't be content with being a spectator. speak up and choose a point you've made and expand it. choose a point you've made and destroy it. or critique the critiques. destroy the ironclad."
-Ampere; The Jailors Speak of Freedom

The band's more recent split with Sinaloa is another highlight in their career. It features marginally longer tracks, with four of seven lasting over a minute and two scraping the two-minute mark. Essentially, this is an EP of 'Woodlawn's: the songs here are all extremely powerful and emotional, from 'At Its Heart & At Its Head', a song that expresses the need for hope in the midst of deppression and ruination, to the haunting chord sequences of closer 'In Antiquity'. The 'Woodlawn' reference I make here isn't entirely superficial, either: in my opinion, 'Wormwood, Radiation' is, in subject matter, a continuation of that song. The contrasting lines "there is life here" and "this doesn't get any easier. this is a wound that time can't heal. it leaves a scar" seem, to me, to say that while you can regain perspective and compusure in the years following a loss, it is nevertheless an event that leaves an irreversible mark that one sometimes never fully recovers from. 'We Live Like Lost Children', by contrast, breathes positivity throughout: it is a life-affirming expression of the need to "reject the notion of modeling our patterns on archaic moral codes not in line with our lives", to live by your own standards. The last line of the song really encapsulates the spirit of Ampere: "now is the time to stand back and ask, "are we living the lives that we want?"'

"blood is filling our lungs & the room won't stop spinning. it's only now that we notice the ghosts in the mirror are us. we built these walls. somewhere, choking on words, in some far-off room, away from the fallout, we'll never make it out. and should this room become a morgue, our bed a coffin, our secrets will die with us. so still, so sterile. there are ghosts there, behind the headboard, under sheets. they keep us from sleep. footprints on carpet, and stark white walls keep secrets hid in plain view. and when our buildings topple, we will meet in the wreckage. among ashen remains, we'll be burning ember and we'll not leave any tracks. by sunrise, the wind will displace us. it'll be as if we were never there. and you said that there's not a word to believe in either of our whispured assurances, but we find solace... and we won't forget the sound of ruined gray cities, of shadows, and the silence..."

-Ampere; At Its Heart & At Its Head

(The Sinaloa side is also good but hey, it's Ampere I'm talking about here, right?)

Flying Lotus - Los Angeles

Flying Lotus is Steve Ellison. Yes, he is well-known for his relation to the Coltranes, but he also churns out some awe-inspiring instrumental hip-hop on the Warp stable. With Los Angeles he has brought us perhaps the best in electronic music that 2008 has had to offer so far. Here we have seventeen cuts of sublime beats, skittering noise and beautifully hazy melody. FlyLo himself has said about his music that “I have this beautiful lemon tree in my backyard, and on a sunny day the light shines through. Little things like that inspire me." This kind of inspiration through mood shows; each track has a flowing sense of atmosphere to it - the opener Brainfeeder is like being skyrocketed into space, and from then on you're floating among the nebulae and the comets, right up until the moment that you're sucked into the black hole of bliss that is the vocal-laden closer Auntie's Lock/Infinitum. The songs here are engaging and layered, but never too dense or abrasive, always keeping a tempered sense of melody and space, making them perfect for either active or passive listening, whichever suits your mood. Headphone listening recommended.

The Carrier - One Year Later

Following the untimely demise of Modern Life is War and Life Long Tragedy, hardcore started to look like a downhill slope for a while. However, there are a valuable few bands that seem to have the capacity to fill that gaping hole, and The Carrier are one of them. Combining a dark yet melodic sound similar to that of Shai Hulud with the intensely personal lyric-centric approach of early Modern Life is War, "One Year Later", their debut album, bleeds emotion from every pore. Anthony, their vocalist, sings of personal struggle: covering depression, self-loathing and loneliness, the fact that these tales of personal troubles are coming from someone who is "nineteen years young" makes them instantly and utterly relatable. This relatability is strengthened by the simplicity and urgency of his delivery: it's even the simplest lines like "I want to see better days, I want to see hope in things" that are perhaps the most breathtaking, because of how direct they are, because of how much we see ourselves mirrored in those words. This sense of relatability is the reason that I love hardcore: it's that "we're in this together" feeling, that knowing that there's others out there that feel just as bitter and disillusioned as you. It's a feeling of community spirit that's difficult to find in any other genre. The title track of this album is particularly poignant in its story of consuming and stagnant self-hatred, but it's the powerful undercurrent of hope in the anthemic Panicstricken that really provides the gem in the crown. "One Year Later" is The Carrier's "My Love. My Way". Give them a bit of time and they may well write their own "Witness".

I chose death over life, wanted to meet my maker, I was dying inside. Pain too great to deal with me made me try to take my life. But now I've seen the light, I've got a second chance at life. I'm not retracting my old tracks. I'm never going back to the locked doors and the blinding lights, to the uncertainty of whether the next will be a good or bad day. I never want to wonder what life would be like without me in it, because I'm alive. I'm done wanting to die. I've taken what I've learned with me, it's all I know, and I'll been kicking my old shit out the front fucking door. Because I don't need it anymore. I'm taking steps forward one foot at a time, making sure not to fall. And it will be the last trip of my life. Reaching up while the ship sinks to the bottom of this dead ocean. A thousand stars couldn't shine through everything we've been through, in this world that has no ending. I'm never going back to locked doors. I'm never going back to blinding lights.
-The Carrier; Panicstricken

Converge - Jane Doe

Jane Doe is probably my favourite record ever. If not, it certainly comes close. I wouldn't normally post something like this because I assume that the two or three people that actually bother to read this would be familiar with this album. But then I had this staggering realisation that, you know, there are people who haven't heard this album, or people who, worse, don't "get" it. It saddens me that people are missing out on something so incredible. Well, here's your chance to repent.

Jane Doe is an album and needs to be heard as such. I need to stress the importance of this. It is a cohesive experience, the expression of and expansion upon a single emotion to overwhelming effect. It is highly unlikely that you are going to "get" Jane Doe just by listening to Concubine or The Broken Vow as standalone songs. Every moment in this album contributes to the next, hurtling madly towards those last three minutes of the title track. The album is a perfect example of the powerfully cathartic nature of hardcore: a comprehensive outpour of an emotion, like wringing water from a sponge until nothing is left.

This album is a rollercoaster of emotion recorded in the aftermath of a heartbreak that left Jacob Bannon feeling low and damaged. It shows, because all the associated emotions are there: from the shock, denial and desperation following loss to the ensuing feelings of spite and hatred, the nadir of defeat, depression and self-loathing, the cold grip of loneliness and, tucked away in a corner somewhere but nevertheless present, hope.

The lyrics, for one, are stunning. They don't necessarily match up to the music in a linear fashion - rather, Jacob Bannon writes them like poetry, then uses them as inspiration for the songs, lifting lines and placing them in appropriate places for maximum impact. Take Concubine's desperate cries of "Dear, I'll stay gold just to keep these pasts at bay", Bitter and then Some's vitriolic chant "Death to cowards, traitors and empty words" or the beautiful penultimate part of the title track "Lost in you like Saturday nights/Searching the streets with bedroom eyes/Just dying to be saved" and you have just some examples of Bannon's skilled and heartfelt lyricism. There is a particularly haunting passage in Hell to Pay, as another example, that really sums up the kind of engulfing depression that takes its hold post-heartbreak:

"That night, I think he cried himself to sleep
Just maybe, he felt more than we could ever know
And I think he pulled that trigger to empty that memory
I think he cut the weight to end the floods of you
Let him soar, let him ride as budding gravestones do
Just sleep, girl, just dream well"

Jane Doe, of course, isn't anything without the music. And what sublime music it is: from the discordant opening measures of Concubine the listener is thrown into some of the most intense, chaotic music ever written. The mood varies; from raucous and chaotic in Homewrecker and Bitter and then Some to pensive in Hell to Pay, with its enormous bassline, and epic in Phoenix in Flight. There is a sense of uncontrollable and climactic chaos throughout the album, untamed amounts of passion that are hard to find in any other album. One particular highlight is The Broken Vow, an anthem that finishes on the rousing and desperate chant "I'll take my love to the grave". There are some interesting but also successful experiments on the album such as the eerie "Phoenix in Flames", a short slice of chaos that sees the band stripping themselves down to a core of drums and vocals. Thaw is also particularly climactic with its jarring riff and its crushing closing chord sequence. This still serves as a mere warmup for the album's title track. There's a rather clichéd phrase that goes "it's always darkest before the dawn" - to me, much of the song Jane Doe represents that state of rock bottom. It charts that feeling of hopelessness, of being completely lost. There's a moment about 45 seconds into the dirge where Bannon suddenly switches gears into a voice that's so different to his usual scream that it's ethereal, singing "I want out" like a desperate cry for help. It's one of the most incredibly affecting parts of the album. The song repeats itself in a cyclic pattern, spiraling more and more into that pit of despair until something happens - something changes. There's a break in the music, and a wonderful sense of space and release. There is one final chorus, like a sigh put to music, before it kicks in. A searing crescendo that has so much intensity that it could easily rival anything that Godspeed You! Black Emperor have ever written, rising out of the gloom like a phoenix in flight, the culmination of so many things gone wrong but perhaps a sign of determination to move past those events, a sign of hope. And that concludes not only the best album closer these ears have ever heard, but perhaps the best album too. Jane Doe is an album of limitless passion and honesty, an intensely personal statement that stands as an incredible work of art. Whether screaming, chaotic hardcore is your thing or not, take a chance on this album - spend some time with it, get to know it well, and perhaps, soon enough, you too will feel its rewards. If you haven't felt anything by the time that culminating crescendo fades out, you can't be human.

Those nights we had and the trust we lost
The sleep that fled me and the heart I lost
It all reminds me
Just how callous and heartless the true cowards are
And I write this for the loveless
And for the risks we take
I'll take my love to the grave
As tired and worn it is
I'll take my love to the grave
-Converge; The Broken Vow

Converge - The Poacher Diaries

In all my excitement about seeing Converge tomorrow, I decided to do a bit of a Converge special today. And so, to get things going, I present you with their 1999 split with Agoraphobic Nosebleed, The Poacher Diaries. (Agoraphobic Nosebleed's side isn't worth bothering with. Trust me on this one. Regard it as a Converge EP).


This split has some of Converge's most punishing cuts to date. Opening with Locust Reign (a short but sweet live favourite) and This is Mine, the four-piece waste no time in announcing their presence with two short, sharp blows to the eardrums. From there on it gets a bit more pensive with the almost psychedelic They Stretch For Miles (featuring a very well-placed Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas sample) before resuming the skull-crushing riffathon in My Great Devastator (the album's best track) and The Human Shield. Minnesota concludes the album in epic fashion, featuring some great slide guitar and clean vocals (yes, your ears aren't deceiving you, that's Jacob Bannon doing some actual singing). The brutality and relative brevity of Converge's side of this split, alongside the overall strength of the songwriting, makes this one a keeper.

Grouper - Dragging a Dead Deer Up a Hill

Grouper is the Oregon-based Liz Harris. Noone more, noone less. Over the last few years she has been quietly making a name for herself through her ethereal and haunting songs, shrouded in a thick fog of vocal loops and guitar ambience, akin to perhaps My Bloody Valentine if they decided to ditch their "louder is better" approach and go acoustic. It seems that these days she's decidedly walking out of that fog: here on her latest effort, we have twelve folk songs that shine with a new-found clarity. Liz's stellar vocal harmonies float effortlessly above her gently strummed, reverb-drenched guitars to create something utterly mesmerising. Don't be fooled by the creepy cover art and equally creepy title, there's something about these songs that's beautifully calm and delicate - they lull you into a sense of total serenity where nothing matters but the haunting melodies that drift around in your subconscious. These are folk songs that are as subtle as they are powerful, taking a gentle but hypnotic approach that works its magic slowly but eventually becomes very endearing. "Dragging a Dead Deer Up a Hill" is the light at the end of the tunnel in musical form.

Buy

(link behind cover art)