The greatest part about misanthropy is listening to the music it produces, a lot of bands emulate the hatred for one and all to give their work that extra kick, but for Sufferinfuck and Mangle that hate is wholly genuine and completely unadulterated, because no sane man can express these boiling pots of hate and disgust without having a first-hand intimate relationship with them and a lengthy degree of occupancy in the crevices of these emotional nadirs.
First up is Sufferinfuck, who having previously penned their own soundtrack to the apocalypse in what probably is one of the best releases of the year (download here) have crawled from whatever social hell they begrudgingly call home and have set about to displace that all-consuming rage into a 5 track convulsion of bestial eruptions and sonic degradations. It’s filthy, it’s loud and surpassingly heavier than anything else out there with obvious exception to their own earlier works, a triarchy of aural punishment and scourging methodologies they push to phonic limitations ultimately consummating the connection between music and emotional expenditure in the most vicious and corrupting demeanour.
From the hard hitting smacks of the drum kit which possess a distinct acute thud to them, the over the top lung tearing heart-beat raising screams and the ripping fanatical guitar work, which all form the crucial elements that define the distinct unruly tantrums of grind Sufferinfuck shotgun at you; they also openly fuse with one another to offer a distinct chain of musical development preventing the bold and fantastical expressions of odium from stagnating or being blunted from being pushed to their musical extremities.
Jumping from Grind to Powerviolence, but very much in the same dark vein of brooding enmity is Mangle whose primal bastardisation of Powerviolence and Sludge crashes between both sides of the shaded ravine between the two. Each alternation between the fiery fits of rage and slow haunting throes share a slithering bleakness and down tuned pervasiveness staining the release with an agitated bluntness of character, pressing deeper as their side cycles further into its absorbing miasma.
Drawing from the forked aphotic threading from both this 7” and that with peers Meatpacker, Mangle are starting to draw many parallels with the much beloved Sex Prisoner, a comparison which carries a significant amount of sway since Sex Prisoners ST 7” is in my books the best PV 7” to date. The mirrors can be found with the guitar work and the overall aggression, but where they differ is that Mangle chokes the hardcore vitality in a thick cloud of smoke and presents itself as a much more nihilistic conjuration evidenced not only by their tenebrous sprays, but in their piercing and resentful lyrics. Overall a differentiation of character that is equally austere, culled from the same seed of ambivalent hardcore, yet blossomed into a very different twisted gargoyle.
The release permeates revulsion with such a thick viscous ferocity and with such a staunch directional consistency, that I struggle to think of a split which offers anything half as cogent in letting my blood boil as they dredge out one damning track after another; each as potent as the last. Not only is the split the most heavy duty, hate spitting, nihilistic curtains of music extremity that comes to mind, it delivers a quality of cacophony tempering to match. Undeniably one of the most formidable releases out there and worthy of mauling you.
At War With False Noise Records
Small Preview of the split:
