Barricade

On their colorful disc Demons, the Pa. hardcore thrashers in Barricade beat and berate for a little less than a half-hour, turning over well-worn tough guy topics like honor, pride and profanity along the way. Music-wise, it’s a soundtrack for mooks’ spinkicks. It’s pretty brainless, monotonous stuff, although I suppose the band deserves credit for trying to keep the tone as pummeling as possible. If you dig shows where meatballs flail their arms as violently as possible for no discernible reason, then this might serve as your soundtrack for violence.

Still, the band did a good job self-recording, as Demons avoids overprocessing the tunes in favor of a dirtier, thicker sound. The snare sounds muddy in a good way, while the vox come off extra forceful yet still discernible. The result: Demons sounds like a top-notch live record. It just happens to be a record for which I have little patience.

While Demons comes out strong on opening number “Harvey Dent,” its homogenous, all-encompassing crunch leaves little to the imagination. Forget experimentation or variety; this puppy is all about killing time until the breakdowns and two-steps kick in. It’s big on the “us vs. them” story, regaling listeners with tale after tale of egotistical phonies and worthless traitors who keep trying to keep Barricade down. And as they’ll be the first to tell you, they super-duper-aggro-terra-ultra-Crag don’t give a fudge. Only they don’t say fudge. Like, ever. If you think songs that couple the value of pride’s supreme dominance with double-bass kicks sum up your life, then uh, have at it. Just don’t hit me, you hyped-up lil devil.