With brooding metal-punk ferocity, the band tears into all the dilemmas of modern fucked-up lives with an earth-shattering intensity. On tunes like "Land of the Free," they rage against the ironies of so-called democracy, where 'freedom' masks the overlooked ghettoes, deceitful politicians, frustrating voting system, and millions of mistakes that take years to see and correct. With raspy-voiced, ominous vocals and bludgeoning drums, the vibe is dark, agitated, and razory.
Other tunes, though, go down the mineshaft of personal pain and misery, like savaged hearts or “Whiskey Nights,” which sheds light on the bruising realities of impromptu violence, endless soggy drink-doused nights, and losing control. It’s candid and harsh, like a look through a bloodied broken mirror.
“Friends Today” laments the whole dysfunction of being older and broke, mired in dead-end jobs and crappy homes, banging heroin and feeling failed by the bullshit stories of society: the anger is palpable, the vehemence real, and the shitty lives bleak as hell. And ”Suburbs” reveals a class war, pitting the plastic people working behind cubicles and walking pedigreed dogs against those with motley breeds, broken guitars, a house stinking of weed, and unpaid bills piled up everywhere.
These tunes are meant to explore the other side of the American coin, the ratty and blemished, the dinged-up and defiant, for those who prefer a heavy dose of grit rather than more safe music for shiny cosmetic lifestyles. The sonic edge cuts like a knife, the band rasps and roars, and anybody with a grudge, or an ounce of discontentment, will sense their anguish and frustration.