Another day, another random hardcore band. This one comes complete with neato pictures of the band members all bloodied after moshing. Gee. I get it, you're really hardcore. Like I give a shit. The only question that matters is-- is there anything to the fucking music?

Lyrically, that answer would be no. Don't go looking here for some great insights into society or the state of the nation or, well, anything. This is pissed off hardcore for no good apparent reason. Or as the boys tell it themselves, "I'm a bitter man/I know it's sad but true." Wow. Thanks for that deep psychological breakthrough. No, rather than insights here you'll find songs about vomiting in the toilet ("Porcelain God"), how neat and truly hardcore they are ("Stitched and Stapled") and how the younger bands are making them feel old ("Times"). And that's just in the first few songs. Think of these guys as BLACK FLAG without the sarcasm or wit.

Then just when I was about to toss this in the trash as a random piece of juvenile, snotty hardcore pap, a strange thing happened. I began to like it. Really like it. The entire album rages with a visceral urge that just can't be ignored. If you've got something in your spleen you need to get out, this will do it. Admittedly, not all the songs work, and in fact, it's the songs where they try to make a statement that work the least well. "We Have Control of Your Mind," is just rubbish. "Whip Crack of the Great," and "Hurt the World," follow close behind. But there's no denying the power of the other tracks and when the guys drop into a damn good MOTORHEAD-ized "Burning Trash," and "How?" I had to fight the urge to drive my car straight to the police station and torch the place. With real melodies and strong riffs, my guess is that this represents a maturation of songwriting as the guys are turning into the older turks on the scene. I'm still undecided on their cover versions of CCR's "Born on the Bayou," and Iggy's "Now I Want to Be Your Dog," but the CCR one has grown on me and I give em props for trying something new.

In the end, "Hurt On the World," is a keeper, a strong set of hardcore with a few damning hiccups. But if "How?" represents what these guys are capable of as they mature, I can't wait until they are Viagra-aged geezers. They should be pretty fricking fantastic by then.

- Severin

OFFICIAL SITE: myspace.com/fracas

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