It is impossible to give Disintegration a proper introduction without resorting to all manner of hyperbole. There’s the informational bits, that The Cure’s eighth album just kissed its twenties goodbye, much in the same way The Cure’s singer, lead guitarist and figurehead Robert Smith did when writing the album in
I’m unsure what others seek when choosing their favorite annual album, for those taken with such trivialities, that is. As far my tastes go, as one who savors hardcore punk confections, I tend to repetitiously consume what I find heaviest in caloric breakdowns and sweet earnestness. Basic genre tenets, really.
Desert Dweller Fest as far hardcore fests go, is a relatively new entity in the scene. Yet, despite its fledgling stature, what with 2018 being only its second year, the fest has already established itself as mecca for heavy music. Much of this music hails from Arizona itself, showcasing the
You don’t get much meaner than Languish. This four-piece death metal outfit has been pulverizing skulls since 2014, with its members hailing from other esteemed Arizona heavies Gatecreeper, North and Territory; Languish has been an entity of destined greatness since inception. Their debut album, 2015’s Extinction, was ten songs of
There’s been chatter here and there of a “metalcore revival” of sorts. That would suggest the genre died at some point between 2006 and now. A sentiment entirely unfounded; metalcore was never gone and buried, but it certainly became boring as shit, with its most interesting post-mid aughts anecdotes best
The Body is one of those bands that’s due all the credit they’re given, with even that praise turning up short of what’s deserved. Where bands will continue churning out releases with nary a note unchanged from their signature sound, bands like The Body throw their name into any genre