Album Review: Hatebreed – The Divinity Of Purpose

Once upon a time, whilst walking through a park, a good friend of mine was hassled by a drunk youth for money. Now, usually my mate would run a mile but, at the time, he happened to be listening to Hatebreed on his non-specific portable media player, so instead he proceeded to wind the volume up and dish out a beating that he never thought was in him. He’s sworn himself off the band now and has since become a pacifist. Okay, the last bit of that shaggy dog story was made up (he’s still a total nutjob who loves Hatebreed more than he loves himself – and that’s saying something), but it is a true, if slightly skewed, tale that highlights just how affecting heavy music can be.

Perfectly monikered, the volatile tunage that Hatebreed write, has been specifically designed to breed hate. Unsurprisingly, The Divinity Of Purpose is no different to the rest of their back catalogue, featuring lyrical content that shows these kings of bulging angst remain 100% dedicated to grabbing hold of you by the balls, tearing open your eyes to the grim reality of life today, and strengthening your resolve to it. Think of it as a two-part process. Firstly, they help you realise your weaknesses through association and, secondly, they supply the lyrical tools to empower you by suggesting you use, usually violent, counter-measures to correct your problems. Listening to Hatebreed is like having “Stone Cold” Steve Austin as your counsellor.

As time has passed and their discography has grown, these continual mind grenades should have got a lot older, a lot quicker, but the monster hooks they write and the methods they employ to suck you in, are just so goddamn addictive. From jinking breakdowns and barbaric, pounding rhythms to the vocal fury of call-and-response and the constant, monotonous barracking all suck you into screaming your lungs out, fist-throwing and pitting like you’ve never pitted before.

Take opener “Put It To The Torch” with its thrash-and-core, vein-bulging angst. It’s a simple, 2-minute assertion of dominance designed to incite total mayhem. The track rips straight through to the even harder smackdown of “Honor Never Dies” with hardly a pause for breath. The emotional forethought of how these songs would sound live is palpable. Take the chorus repetition of the purposeful title-track. There’s even a spoken-to-screamed building crescendo wedged in there. The fury of the pit that will explode on the smack of that snare as it all kicks off again is palpable. “Before The Fight Ends You” could have been written with my mate specifically in mind. It’s all remarkably straightforward and to the point with a chorus of “End the fight / Before the fight ends you!”, but that’s Hatebreed all over. And that’s The Divinity Of Purpose all over.

Unlike their last self-titled effort, there is no drop in pace, no “Every Lasting Scar” downtime. Without doubt, the album does what it says on the tin. It’s a savage, single-minded entity. The Renaissance-stylized artwork alone (created by painter Eliran Kantor) tells you just how serious they are about this merciless mission they are on. This is their religion and that’s the main reason why this comes recommended as one of their finer assaults. Having said that, the album’s main strength is also its biggest weakness. The sheer brute force of it is overwhelmingly predictable; one that lacks any level of sophistication or experimentation. Yes, perhaps with this album marking out Hatebreed’s 19th year, they should have offered something fresh, but to go against the grain now, not fully committed, and get it wrong might just ruin their iconic status – then who would my friend turn to when life deals him yet another shitty hand?

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/01/hatebreed-the-divinity-of-purpose-nuclear-blast/

Album Review: Full Blown Chaos - Full Blown Chaos

The day I saw NYHC outfit Full Blown Chaos hit Peterborough, England and heard Ray Mazzola ask the audience to turn to the person next to them and punch them full in the face, was the day I understood just how wide the yawning divide between hearing a recorded album and seeing the band perform that same said album live could really be. They were the second of four bands on that day, hardly a position of strength, but they exhilaratingly stole the show by a country mile, leaving a messy trail of testosterone in their wake.

Mazzola has said of the band’s live efforts – “You need to be in everyone’s face and make them remember you, whether they like it or not.” An ethic that makes sense having witnessed it first hand but, away from the venue, the album they were touring that day, Heavy Lies The Crown, amounted to tight, uber-aggressive, yet essentially generic metalcore. So, when I learned about this latest self-titled release and the fact they’d added another guitarist, I began to hope that they’d really had a crack at recreating their live show; had perhaps dredged up a chunk of music that would separate them from their peers.

The first few bars do prove promising and are a lumbering feast of chugged guitar and biting snare, harder and heavier than we’ve heard the band produce previously, but this soon falls away into boorish gang chants housed within short, smooth attacks. The lyrics are a combination of hate-fueled jibes and pointed, moralistic observations – “Why are your words so full of shit, you’re not the first to lie to my face” (from “Villains”), “Our values are running away, this is the process of decay” (from “The Walking Dead”), “Don’t you ever shut the fuck up?” (from “Gutter Mouth”), and “As of right now I don’t know who you are, what have you become, you’ve fallen so far” (from “Gravedigger”).

This band are kings when it comes to concocting big, meaty chunks of rollicking hardcore; music that grinds its way down to the snapping point where the rhythmic artillery disintegrates into heavy-as-hell, double-kicking, slow-motion breakdowns that chew you up and spit you back out into real time. FBC are a righteous Chimaira; Madball on steroids. The tracks do dip in and out of rockier and thrashier sections, but you have to pay attention to what’s being brewed up in the smothered background thrum to spot them – “Rise + Conquer” diligently inserts gaps and chants to soften the impact of the macerator vocal, whilst “Silence Is Golden” emits a rippling Trivium-esque riff which eventually dissipates into a flamboyant solo – the former raises hairs on your neck; the latter stands out like a poodle at a bulldog convention and makes you briefly wish they’d followed their own title’s advice. As for the thrash, “Battle Hymns And Broken Bones” is almost reminiscent of Austrian Death Machine, albeit without the necessary tongue-in-cheek.

As a complete work, it’s all a bit similar and over-familiar. The tracks that do standout are few and far between. “The Walking Dead” and “War Machine” are Full Blown Chaos on maximum – an auditory sea of fists and a firm thumbs up to those who’ve stayed faithful to the cause – and “Cain Marko”, which has a devilish triple (quadruple, if you count the split chorus timings) breakdown finale to mark it out. Essentially though, this isn’t much of a step away from their previous release and, I fear, will all too easily be left lagging behind the Hatebreeds and Unearths of this world.

By all means, do have a go at spinning their CD in numerous locations and at ever-increasing volume levels (as I did with their last release), but you will seriously need to haul ass to an FBC show to fully understand the real impact that this collection of songs can have on you. Mosh gloves are an absolute necessity.

Also online @ The NewReview = http://thenewreview.net/reviews/full-blown-chaos-full-blown-chaos