In any genres there are names that strike fear into the heart of mortal man. This is certainly true when it comes to Chris Reifert, the demonic mastermind behind death metal legends Autopsy (not to mention Abcess). With Violation Wound, however, Reifert gets to indulge in the sort of sick hardcore that always lurked under the surface of his other projects but which is now brought to the fore on eighteen, dizzyingly fast and unfeasibly adrenaline-charged tracks. Unpretentious and unrelenting, Violation Wound (which sees Reifert joined by bassist Joe Orterry and drummer Matt O’Connell), hit the studio with Sam Zuerner in the summer of this year, laying down the rawest, dirtiest hardcore you’ll hear all year, the whole album blazing past in just over half an hour.
Kicking off Dying to live, too living to die, Off with his head sees the band dabble in a little deathly grind before plunging into a seething cauldron of Discharge-style riffing and gang-chant vocals. The result is a phlegm-soaked opening that seems to vanish before the listener’s had a chance to identify its face and we’re into the hectic guns! Guns! Guns!, which sees the band largely repeating the song’s title as Reifert abuses his guitar. Fast and furious, it says all it has to say in under two minutes and then, with little in the way of a pause, the band leap into no consequence, a snatched melee of pummelling percussion and unhinged soloing wedged between dirty, primal riffs. Far more in the vein of traditional punk, close your eyes and the arcing riff of follower (an album highlight) could be the Clash, albeit played at the speed of lightning, whilst lack of focus barely registers such is its speed and brevity, leaving the listener with the uneasy feeling that they’ve just experienced an earth tremor.
Clearly having a blast in the studio, the band offer little in the way of nuance – this is the recorded equivalent of a basement show, sweaty and full-on. However, whilst not exactly offering respite, the brilliant dead flags does at least throw in a couple of curveball doom riffs, the half-time beat allowing space for a psychedelic solo and providing brief relief from the frantic battering found elsewhere. Exorcism of ignorance, on the other hand, is played at thrash speeds and delivered with so much piss ‘n’ vinegar, you could use it to strip the paint from the walls. Surfing on a surprisingly upbeat riff despite the grim subject matter, Neighborhood psycho is brilliantly brutal, Reifert clearly enjoying himself immensely as he busts out some apocalyptic solos, before the band take a minute to pay tribute to a fallen hero with the instrumental The Day Lemmy Died, although, somewhat ironically, the previous track sounds far more Motorhead-esque than the doom-laden tribute the band lay down here. The forbidding atmosphere is soon dispelled with the frantic stress bomb, the perfect track to play loud after a long day at work.
The last third of the album sees the band up the ante, with a number of tracks not even hitting the minute mark. As its title implies, chainsaw brain sees a staggering psycho with murder on his mind unleashing bloody hell, although it does little to prepare for the album’s lengthy title track. The only piece of music to top three minutes, dying to live, living to die is another throwback to the glory days of punk, albeit filtered through Reifert’s diseased mind, and it makes for a good starting point for those unfamiliar with the band’s oeuvre. Punk with a death edge, Last pill in the bottle sees Reifert’s vocals hit a brutal peak, whilst pay to hate is another seismic charge that seems to vanish in a cloud of hurtling metal fragments. A particularly pertinent track given today’s insta-insult, Instagram culture, insult culture takes a little longer to deliver its message, offering up some of the album’s best riffs in the process. The band pick up the pace for the final three tracks, unleashing the spectacularly fast Pick up the crumbs, and then tearing into the even faster losers and freaks, which kind of feels like the band’s unofficial anthem. It all comes to a head with album closer hostage, one last breath of toxic, hate-filled air, which barely hits a minute in length, before the band take a quick bow and exit stage left having done a pretty comprehensive job of demolishing the listener’s consciousness.
Dying to live, living to die is pretty much exactly what you’d expect form a hardcore project fronted by Chris Reifert. Punk with a tasty sprinkling of death metal, the overwhelming impression is that the band had fun laying down these sick jams. There’s a nervy, unflashy energy that runs through the entire album like a vein of steel and Violation Wound are also smart enough to keep things short, never allowing an idea to outstay its welcome. If you dig brutal, hyperspeed punk, this is the album for you and, with its sweet, Wes Bensocter artwork, the vinyl edition is surely the way to go. Hitting the racks via Peaceville on Nov 1st, Dying to live, living to die is a masterclass in dirty hardcore and comes highly recommended. 8.5
