Ten years ago, Justice Tripp made the fateful decision not to sing a great hardcore song. Tripp was up onstage with has band Angel Du$t at Washington, DC's St. Stephen's Church, a local institution that's been hosting punk shows for decades. (Fugazi's second show was at St. Stephen's in 1987.) That night, Angel Du$t were playing the record-release show for Turnstile's Move Thru Me EP. Some members of Turnstile were in Angel Du$t at the time; others were moshing and stagediving for them. It was beautiful even before the grand finale, and the grand finale is something that I never get tired of watching.
Angel Du$t's 2014 debut album AD ends with "Set Me Up," an absolutely perfect hardcore song. It's about one minute of riffs and accuations: "How! Could! You! Set me up! To knock me down! When I needed you! You were never around!" At St. Stephen's Church, Tripp said, "There's like 400 women in the room right now! So fellas, thank you for your support. Make your way to the back. I don't wanna sing a word." When the song started, most of the fellas did make their way to the back, and a succession of young women took turns barking the song out to each other. I think about that video all the time. I keep rewatching it, especially when I'm in some kind of depressive funk. It's therapeutic.
By the time Angel Du$t got to "Set Me Up" that night, Justice Tripp was shirtless. For most of the set, though, he had on a black button-up and slacks. Tripp always dresses in incredibly slick ways, but this was not a fashion decision on his part. When you watch the video of the full set, there's a moment where Tripp explains his attire: "Today, I'm dressed up really cool. It's not just because it looks cool. I just made my way from a public viewing. Lost somebody. Life is very, very short. People gonna die in this room. Soon. Hopefully not too soon, but it's gonna happen. Somebody's got to go. That's how it works." I don't know who Tripp lost, but in the wake of that loss he played a wild, euphoric show and attempted to lift up everybody else in the room. I think about that all the time, too.
Last Friday night, Justice Tripp and Angel Du$t were back onstage in St. Stephen's Church. Tripp was the only band member remaining from that 2016 show, and he was a decade older, but the energy was the same. Angel Du$t just released Cold 2 The Touch, their sixth album and to my mind their best. The night earlier, they'd played a huge, free record release show in their Baltimore hometown, and I would've been there if I could've fit it into my life. The DC show was the first night of a long tour that you really, really should go see if you get the chance. What I saw at St. Stephen's Church was truly special. I've seen Angel Du$t a handful of times, and they've always kicked ass. The show on Friday was the best that I've seen from them.
Angel Du$t are a weird band. When Tripp started the group, he was best-known as the frontman of Trapped Under Ice, the hardest band in the world. TUI didn't always make down-the-middle meat-and-potatoes hardcore, but if you were into NYHC-style anthemic chug, they were the kings. Some of Angel Du$t's music fits into that lane, too. But Angel Du$t pull in all sorts of other sounds and ideas — shimmering power-pop harmonies, funky textures, acoustic guitars, classic-rock choogles — while still working unambiguously as a hardcore band. Angel Du$t songs sometimes speed up or slow down at moments where those things just don't make sense. Sometimes, they mush things together that shouldn't be mushed together. That's one of the main reasons their music works so well. I'm always fascinated to hear what they'll do next.
Cold 2 The Touch is the hardest, most intense Angel Du$t record in a while, but it also feels freer and more unencumbered than some of their stuff. The harmonies and the mosh parts don't feel like they exist in opposition anymore. They feed each other. A searching, percussive psychedelic rock zone-out will melt into pure haze, and then a juddering stomp-riff will appear on the horizon like distant headlights. Tripp will sing sweetly that he's praying for your downfall. There's a sincere, searching quality to the record that I find really moving. Tripp sings about sex and loneliness and rage and the futile, never-ending quest to stop feeling so cold inside. Much of the record, at least the way I hear it, is about finding reasons to resist death while accepting it's coming anyway. Somebody's got to go. That's how it works.
Plenty of people who love hardcore find Angel Du$t to be annoying. I will always remember talking to a guy at last year's United Blood who was psyched that the Angel Du$t set was next: "That'll give me a chance to take a shit!" Delve into enough YouTube comments and you'll find so many people who wish they'd stop farting around and make bangers again. But the farting around, at least from where I'm sitting, is always the point. The band's combination of playfulness and intensity, of melody and fury, of toughness and vulnerability is exactly what sets them apart. Nobody else is doing it like that.
Angel Du$t's membership has changed a bunch of times over the years, but they now exist as an ultra-focused band. When you look at all five guys onstage, they look like they're members of different bands, which means they look even cooler together. I'm really stuck on one of the singles from Cold 2 The Touch: "I'm The Outside," which starts out as fast, zippy, harmony-heavy psych-pop before suddenly downshifting into a lurching, firebreathing breakdown that makes me want to hit a running powerslam on a Sherman tank. It might be my favorite Angel Du$t song since "Set Me Up." It was the first song that they played on Friday night.
Angel Du$t's new guitarist is this guy Jim Carroll. He's not the Jim Carroll who sang "People Who Died"; that Jim Carroll died. This Jim Carroll is a big motherfucker with pigtails who spent time in legendary Boston hardcore bands like the Suicide File and the Hope Conspiracy. He might be the only member of Angel Du$t who's older than me. (If he's not older than me, I don't want to hear it.) He started Friday night's show playing Link Wray's "Rumble" riff and then going directly into "I'm The Outside." It was awesome.
At the back of the stage, mylar balloons spelled out the words "COLD 2." But the room was so hot and muggy that the balloons kept sagging, and the L kept going backwards and bumping drummer Nick Lewis. This was one of those situations where it's cold outside and unbelievably sweaty inside, and there's no reentry, so everyone just stays inside and keeps sweating while a couple of ceiling fans halfheartedly move stale air around. But Justice Tripp still went up onstage in some leather gloves and a western buckskin jacket with fringe. When you stay cold, you always look cool.
The energy in the room that night was unbelievably wholesome. Some of that is down to the way Washington, DC's longstanding DIY punk traditions work. Even at a hardcore show full of tough guys, you always get the sense that a community meeting is about to break out. But some of that feeling was specific to Angel Du$t. My favorite strangers in the crowd were a dad and his teenage daughter. During Angel Du$t, the dad ran off to mosh, but he kept running back to check on his kid in between songs, making sure she was OK. During one of Angel Du$t's brightest and zippiest songs, he coaxed her out to pogo around with him, and they looked so happy together. I was already in a good mood, but that put me in a better one. The whole show worked like that.
The bill on the Angel Du$t tour changes continually as it makes its way through the country, with tons of bands — Big Boy, Béton Armé, Midrift, Home Front — jumping on and jumping off. In DC, they shared the bill with Justice Tripp's favorite band ever, storied '90s NYHC maniacs Crown Of Thornz. Frontman Lord Ezec is one of hardcore history's great larger-than-life figures. In the 1999 documentary NYHC, he comes off as the scariest, most charismatic lunatic in a scene full of scary, charismatic lunatics — the one who tells a story about getting stabbed with a screwdriver and laughs about it. (I also love the bit where he says that he doesn't even like hardcore; he'd rather listen to the Sundays or the Cranberries.) Crown Of Thornz had a weird, intense, tangled sound that was more complicated than it got credit for being, and Ezec sang about mental anguish and self-recrimination, but he also sang about how the Juggernaut is a big, tough guy. Fascinating band.
These days, Lord Ezec is probably the most face-tatted middle-aged man I've ever dapped up, but he's not the psycho nightmare figure that once existed in my imagination, or at least he's not just that. He's fun to watch — bouncing around, shadowboxing, happily shit-talking guitarist Mike Dijan for continuing to father children into his fifties. He's the only hardcore frontman I've ever seen salsa-dance to his own band's intro. Crown Of Thornz' singular sound still hits hard. One of the miracles of hardcore is that it's a vehicle for self-expression for people who don't necessarily strike you as artistic types, and you'll never find a better example of that than Crown Of Thornz.
Backlash, a young DC band who played earlier in the evening, are pretty much by-the-numbers hardcore, but they play it with verve and style. They just released a self-titled EP that's worth your attention. Another band dropped off the show at the last minute, so we also got a set from Loose Leash, a brand new DC band that includes ex-members of Bacchae and Give. That band rules. This was only their second show; the first was opening for Angel Du$t's in Baltimore the previous night. You can tell that they're just getting started, but I find their sincere, funky take on classic DC hardcore (and the Inside Out cover that closed their set) to be just incredibly cool. I can't recommend their demo enough.
In the months ahead, Angel Du$t will roll through North America, Australia, and Europe. Every show won't be like the DC one. I can't say for certain that you'll have a magical experience at any one of those shows, but I can tell you that I had one. For my money, Angel Du$t are one of the best rock 'n' roll bands on the face of the planet right now. They play all the time, and they keep getting sharper and more locked-in. You should go see them. If the spirit moves you at the right moment, you should grab the mic.
Azshara - "Cradle Of Dawn"
When I went to college at Syracuse, I worked as an overnight security guard in the dorms. It's supposed to feel good when you get off work, but I have never known greater misery than the feeling of leaving that job at 7AM in the middle of an endless Syracuse winter. You're so tired, and it's so cold. There's snow on the ground seven months out of the year. Sometimes, the wind is so bad that you have to throw your weight into the door just to get it open. One time, I was on my way back home when I saw some crows picking at a squirrel's guts, and the squirrel was still kicking. I felt like the squirrel. On the plus side, that kind of experience might lead you to make epic evilly triumphant At The Gates-ass metalcore, the way Syracuse's own Azshara do. I can't tell if Azshara are the crows or the squirrel on "Cradle Of Dawn." Maybe they're both. Maybe they're just the chill in the air. [From Azshara & Unmoved's Cold Blooded Tag Team split EP, out now on DAZE.]
Dry Socket - "Leglock"
Did you ever get one of your friends to put you in the figure four leglock, just to see how it felt? It hurts way worse than it looks. Portland basement destroyers Dry Socket's "Leglock" isn't specifically about that kind of pain. It's about being trapped by the world, knowing that you're going to have to keep working until death. But it captures some of that urgent, feral "wait no ow get off holy shit this hurts" feeling. Dry Socket are great when they're in frantic-sprint mode, but when they slow down and the thundering crusty floor toms land, that's when they really get their hooks in. [From Self Defense Techniques, out 3/27 on Get Better.]
Holy Dose - "Wreck"
It would be cool if one band felt empowered to make apocalyptic epic-struggle metallic hardcore anthems and fuzz-ripping '90s melodo-jams, if those two things could inform and power one another. In hardcore, though, that's not the way it works. If you want to make music that falls under a minutely different subgenre, you need to start a whole new side project and release all that shit under a different name. So when three guys in Contention want to get their Drug Church on, they have to make a whole other band and call it Holy Dose. Fortunately, though, they are really good at both modes of communication. The Holy Dose EP has tons of hooks and energy, and I'm almost as excited to see this band do more shit as I am to see Contention's next move. [From Sharp Decline EP, out now on New Morality Zine.]
Latest God - "Glue Factory"
It's always so funny to see regional sounds travel. Latest God make music that's based in a very specific time and place. They're a mid-'80s DC band, obsessed with the moment that the guys from the OG hardcore bands started messing around with big, expressive melodies and surging dynamics. But they're not from DC. They're from Newcastle, Australia. They're really good at recreating the fiery passion of that classic DC music, but it ends up sounding like some weird new mutation only because they have accents. I like that! I think that rules! Let a thousand different-accented mid-'80s DC scenes bloom! [From Concrete Kids, out now on Life.Lair.Regret.]
A Mourning Star - "Moonlight Guides My Faith"
What could that song title possibly mean? Whose faith is guided by moonlight? Is that like when Inigo Montoya prays to his dead father and beseeches him to guide his sword? Are they knights chasing moonbeams? You can't really tell, since the singer from Vancouver's A Mourning Star roars his lyrics in ways that feel altogether post-language. For that matter, I have questions about A Mourning Star's band name. As in: Is that a pun? Are they just really into the emotional effects of celestial bodies? I'm being snarky here because I'm lazy. Bands like this are so sincere that they're easy targets. What's hard is explaining why this kind of grand-scale triumphant metalcore can absolutely touch your soul. I think it's because they're so sincere, so willing to make themselves into that kind of target. It's also because the riffs are so gigantic and evil and merciless. It's all those things. [From Dusk's Cold Embrace compilation, out now on The Coming Strife.]
NØ MAN - "Moan"
NØ MAN are the kind of band that seem like they were created in some kind of addled dream factory: Three first-wave screamo veterans in angular-churn mode, backing up a Palestinian-American woman with an elemental roar of a voice, using that music to rage righteously about ongoing genocide and envisioning a beautiful day of revenge. How could that be real? How could any band hope to contain and channel that kind of fury? But they're extremely real, and their music sounds like planets exploding, which is exactly how it should sound. "Moan" is a song explicitly about how hard it is to turn that anger into art: "If I can’t find the words, they better run for cover." Sometimes, you need to hear something like this to feel sane. [Stand-alone single, out now on Iodine.]
Portrayal Of Guilt - "Human Terror"
Portrayal Of Guilt have made all kinds of weird shit that occupies different spaces on the extreme music map, but I've never heard them sound like an even more deranged Korn before this song. The bass tone on this thing is beyond disgusting. It's disgraceful. It should be ashamed of itself. Parents should write letters to their representatives, demanding a full Congressional inquiry into this bass tone. I'm writing this blurb only a few hours after "Human Terror" came out, and that bass tone is already corrupting America's youth. [From ...Beginning Of The End, out 4/24 on Run For Cover.]
Rejoice - "Ghouls Under A Festering Sun"
I'm no scientist, but as far as I know, the sun cannot fester. It's not made of organic material. It's just, what, burning gas? It doesn't rot. It just burns. Suddenly, though, I'm not so sure. If the sun didn't fester, how could a song this magically, transcendently grimy even exist? We might have to rewrite some scientific principles here. Based on our latest findings, the sun does fester, and there's some ghouls under it. Thank you for your attention to this matter. [From Exit Life/Rejoice split, out now on Delayed Gratification.]
Terror - "Still Suffer"
Not fair. Shouldn't be allowed. Violates all the rules. Terror have been a band for 24 years. They never broke up. They never made shitty funk-rock or slam metal or whatever. Every Terror record is not created equal, but the worst one is still pretty good. This is not how it's supposed to happen for hardcore bands. It's not how it's supposed to happen for any band. Energy and inspiration are supposed to die down. When people keep making variations on the same thing, it's supposed to sound increasingly tired. A bunch of middle-aged guys should not be able to create the hardest breakdown you've heard all year. And yet. [From Still Suffer, out 4/24 on Flatspot.]
World I Hate - "Your Phantasm"
The creatures stir in the darkness. For untold generations, these beings have lurked somewhere deep in the secret realms beneath our feet. They have listened to us as we scurry around from place to place, taking idle interest in our comings and goings. They were amused at first. Their amusement gave way to disgust. Still, they waited, biding their time, only revealing themselves to us in the nightmares that we force ourselves to forget immediately upon waking. Finally, though, the time will come when they must rise from their slumber and clean this terrible species from the surface of this stinking world. By amazing coincidence, this moment will arrive just when World I Hate hit the breakdown on "Your Phantasm." Who could've guessed? [From Total Nuclear Annihilation, out 3/6 on Convulse.]
