I feel weird when people talk in the past-tense, like this cat at Easy Street Records in Seattle once said to me, “Yeah man, I used to collect a lot of stuff on Marriage (Records).” To me it’s like, “USED to? More like: Did, do, and will forever,” knowhatImean? Like, why do entire genres and ‘scenes’ have to die before people realize they were cool and/or worthwhile? I remember Daughters telling me not a single person in the United States cared about their former band As The Sun Sets until it was already broken up, or, like, you can buy thousands of comics and never bumble upon a truly monetarily valuable collector’s item. But shouldn’t every comic be valuable to collectors? (Or something?) I could go on about this all day, of course, and it wouldn’t change a thing. And yet the kids DO seem to get it, or at least they’re trying. A lot of new sub-metal stuff in the power-violence realm is starting to rear up and kick my ears in the teeth, including releases on Iron Lung I’ve covered here and elsewhere (in particular TRTRKMMR, those guys bang it hard) and material birthed by the Halo of Flies label (not to mention Fragile Branch, Ivory Antler, others I can’t remember). These are of course just a few isolated signs of life, but what about this Broken Limbs outfit, dealing in death yet keeping it real, putting out André Foisy tapes side by side with bands like Ramlord who might not conceivably be able to find a home anywhere else? It’s the circle of life, my friends, and this self-titled 7-inch will have you feelin’ the love. “The Breached Sanctum” sluices through the tunnel of life like a slick metal production at first, then belly-flops into more conventional, yet more satisfying, hardcore poundage led by singers that both shriek and croak in a hoarse wail. A gaudy cymbal bell and double-bass throttling later, and I’m wondering what the fuck I can say about Ramlord that hasn’t been crammed down your ears already (if you’re listening to the provided sample, which you always should be; that’s how this works), and I’m barely into the flip, a rager that takes the vocals even further into post-Dystopia aggro-wolf territory and the guitar/drums/bass further into a coma laced with fuzz and endless rhythmic pummeling. You’ll get all nuts when the tempo goes warp-style and the snare cracks like shotgun blasts, looking forward to the day when Ramlord might, say, get involved in a recording of more substantial duration (already happening: split 10-inch w/ Sea Of Bones forthcoming). Until then, stay dark, stay open, stay dreary, and let the new wave of the new wave carry you to the next one.
More about: Ramlord
