Hardcore is best when it’s fat free; when it’s lean, menacing, frothing at the mouth and intent onstabbing your ears with a rusty knife. The essence that possesses this music is unlike any other. At the heart of it all sits a pure, refined chassis of rage, which is proudly aware of what it is. Never at any point does it boil over into an extension of teenage angst and sulkiness, pointing an accusative finger of blame. Rather, it’s quite the opposite. It’s a rousing, empowering rally against all the cunts in the world that live to bring you down, and as Stigmata proclaimed, no one can bring me down.
This fire breathing hydra from Finland emphatically embodies this. The odd man of Scandinavia is home to scores of other metallic marvels, but few gleam with such confidence and yet harbour such utter spite against everything like .45 Stainless. The middle finger is defiantly raised throughout every minute of their debut’s duration. Pregnant with menace, it stalks with purpose, cramming in as much musical carnage as is possible into each track’s framework.
The musical DNA of their heroes runs deep in their blood, but is gloriously manipulated to create
hideous musical mutations, hell bent on turning dance floors into killing fields littered with headless
corpses. After all, that’s clearly the purpose, and to be frank, there’s no need to deaden the impact
with unnecessary extras that would otherwise dilute such a potent barrage.
Deciding which is king of the monstrous musical components that have been melded together here is
a tricky endeavour. Vocally, the record is flawless, perfectly balancing tough, throaty spits with earth
shaking gutturals that don’t creep into samey, cookie monster on coke, repetition. Equally flawless
are the beats and the rhythm, which seem to be divinely crafted. They smoothly merge with the riffs
and vocals to accentuate the intensity of each passage whilst never at any point choking a groove or
suffocating a vocal.
The rulers though, are the riffs, the alpha and the omega, the first and the last, and always the
axis of quality hardcore. Here, they glisten with a bold, omnipotent tone which just simply crushes
relentlessly. Without them, this band, and all those like them, would be nothing, the impotence would
be overwhelming, and when it would come to the last judgment, this, would be their greatest crime, for
a hardcore band with no riffs is not a hardcore band.
Don’t call it a comeback, hardcore never left, and contrary to what OLC says (be it ironic or not), it’s
.45 Stainless – O.G.B.D. //O.G.B.D. MCD//2011//Beatdown Hardwear Records
.45 Stainless – Violence For Violence//O.G.B.D. MCD//2011//Beatdown Hardwear Records
“Hated” promo video: