Tuesday, 27 May 2014

Hysterics - Can't I Live?

True roiling hardcore punk straight out of the early 80s, flailing with whip-quick shifts of emotion and tempo, Outside In screams, then sneers, then lifts from a spoken verse into rushing anger and manic laughter, each change-up throwing out waves of bitterness, alienation, the snap of frustration flowering into rage, dissent. Stomp-along or crash through wild riffs, matching crushing choruses with chaotic verses. "LEAVE ME ALONE. DON'T WASTE MY TIME. OR MY SPACE. CAN'T YOU SEE. I'M A HUMAN BEING." the chorus to Leave Me Alone bludgeons, force and bluntness, "DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE, MAN?" it drawls, spitting derision and venom, ripping shithead cat-callers to pieces. Hysterics tear at crushing ills of every day, grievances mirrored and exploded, disconnected and uncomfortable on Outside In, scornful on Psychic Drain, tired on Now I See, enraged on No Vision. Classically corrosive, contemporarily barbed.

The pace slackens on Please Sir (I Want Some More), a mid-tempo thump at the smug grandiloquences of male supremacy, rolling along in scathing scratching punk, "PLEASE SIR/BESTOW UPON ME/YOUR INVALUABLE GIFTS/THE WORLD/AS IT IS THROUGH YOUR EYES". The vocals bite and sneer and then split into wordless retching, disgusted by the lines that they're intoning, however satirical they may be. It's like the truth behind the words, the truth of the obliviousness of dudes acting like that, marinating in their own self-delusion and fragile egotism, cuts through the mockery and, unable to play these caustic words with a straight face, the song explodes, the words breaking apart into a slurred scream, the guitar lacerating. I started writing this review at the end of last week and left it as I went off to spent the weekend getting fucked up and watching amazing bands and terrible bands. In that time the supreme vileness of male entitlement was expressed publicly in the worst possible way, several people are dead because of it. Hysterics rage at the world that allows those poisonous ideas to flourish and bloom into tragedy, they try to rip them up at the root, with the tools they have, sharp disdain and hardcore punk fury. Can't I Live? You can, but the bastards aren't gonna make it easy.

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