Gogol Bordello
We Mean It, Man!
We Mean It, Man! is a bit of a different beast for Gogol Bordello. ‘Beast’ is an apt word, for a start; this thing is butting against the rafters with how enormously stuffed with sound it is. Not in a very Gogol Bordello-esque way, though. This is a band best known for their self-coined ‘gypsy-punk’ style, which has always done best when kept light, loose and meeting the international, communal vibe of its personnel. They were nailing that as recently as Solidaritine in 2022, too. So, as We Mean It, Man!’s title track heralds what’s to come—pounding guitars and drums, and synths overlaid with a quasi-industrial veneer—the sinking feeling is not unwarranted.
It’s likely a product of Nick Launay and Adam “Atom” Greenspan, two producers primarily known for post-punk and whose skillsets seem totally incongruous with what Gogol Bordello are. And, yeah, that’s a fair assessment. We Mean It, Man! gets so bogged down by noise and clutter, to where the band’s usual liveliness almost gets swamped out completely. Korey Kingston’s drums are the most severe casualty, gated and heavied on Life Is Possible Again and Ignition in a way that sees any fluidity evaporate. For punk informed by the rabble-rousing potential of Balkan folk, it’s a style that does Gogol Bordello no favours. When No Time For Idiots or From Boyarka To Boyaca do attempt to pick up the tempo, or Mystics strives for a dance-punk pivot, they’re too blocky and weighed-down to work.
At least Eugene Hütz remains unscathed, as the bug-eyed, one-of-a-kind mouthpiece who carries over the soul of old, despite the changes. By no means is he the clearest fit anymore, but he’s awash with personality, as opposed to a more ‘standard’ singer who’d get flattened by a sound like this. And when Hütz is put in more familiar climes—see the Euro-stomp of Hater Liquidator and the turned-down, contemplative Boiling Point—it’s almost like the normal, workable pieces fall in line. But they’re clearly in the minority, and designed to be as such. When the album ends with Solidarity and nary a single Bordello-ism can break through its impervious, thudding shell, that’s the impression you’re supposed to be left with.
What’s extra disappointing is that We Mean It, Man! would probably do as well as always, were its bionic enhancements removed. At its core, this is Gogol Bordello working as intended, sparking and shouting its revolutionary vibe with glee and aplomb. You feel that through songs like Hater Liquidator and Crayons that, even in current form, are raring for a shout-along. Too often, though, the bricked-out coldness gets in the way, and Gogol Bordello are left fighting against it. Ultimately, too much attention is spent on that, instead of what really matters.
For fans of: Frank Turner, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Gang Of Four
‘We Mean It, Man!’ by Gogol Bordello is out now.
ATLAS
Sunder
You’ll find ATLAS’ Sunder pitched as something of a cross between HIM and Humanity’s Last Breath. That’s not inaccurate, either, given the ways they’ve diversified from straight metalcore on a rather consistent basis. Thus, some expectations begin to percolate—generally heavy but also with an ear for melody, swept up in Nordic metal’s ever-frigid air. With those two acts specifically in mind, Sunder lands in the overlap rather than being any kind of holistic fusion. You don’t get the higher ends of HIM’s swooning, nor a bleakness as truly soul-rending as Humanity’s Last Breath.
This is still very strong, though, in proving that ATLAS are capable of willing something with these grand, monolithic ambitions. I Whisper Your Name Like A Curse is a worthy centerpiece in scale alone, a towering melancholy built from black and glacially-slow cold. Altar Of Your Love does it even better, defined by Patrik Nuorteva’s seismic, stentorian voice and Aku Karjalainen’s calamitous drums made all the heavier by the crawl. It’s the sort of album where joy and levity are pasted by design. ATLAS’ might be a bit too clean in their ways for long-lasting desolation, but that doesn’t mean there’s none of it here.
Their true metalcore side present on Tower and Salt And Sulfur isn’t quite as interesting; it’s where the rounded, cleaner production stands out the most. That just seems at odds with the whole vibe of Sunder, wisely rectified across its majority. This is supposed to be overblown, and that threshold can most easily be crossed when there’s an instrumental canvas to match, not to mention with how much lyrical melodrama is smuggled into a song like Anodyne. And generally, it’s good to see that ATLAS understand that. For what’s ultimately styled by blackened music’s grander reaches rather than shaped by them, Sunder gets there. The power, the chill and the exasperating gloom are the prime components, and each one of them works in tandem, as they should. Rarely is Euro-metal miserablism as fit for purpose as this.
For fans of: HIM, The Amity Affliction, Lorna Shore
‘Sunder’ by ATLAS is released on 20th February on Odyssey Music.
Bruise Control
Bruise Control
The artwork of Bruise Control’s self-titled EP features frontman Jim Taylor’s ‘Born t’Lose’ tattoo, a northernised take on the mantra of Lemmy Kilmister. Fittingly enough, the similarities to Motörhead do seem quite pertinent. Both are raucous and hoary, and stand staunchly in a working-class background that’s had its space and outlets gutted under unconquerable austerity. Bruise Control’s specific variant of that is through the lens of Manchester punk, coated in dirt, grime and the urban brutalism that makes Taylor’s hardcore bark sometimes deliberately garbled. Between Left Behind and If You’re Not Mine’s battering speed and the full-fat closer Jumping Ship, presence in any form is not an issue for Bruise Control.
In a nice change of pace, there’s also a bit more going on in the mix than just brusqueness dialled up to its limit. There’s a quasi-indie-rock and post-punk feel going on here, most notably on Spinners Mill and how it casts more than a few glances at early Fontaines D.C.. Revolutionary, it is not, but nonetheless, it gives Bruise Control their own feel. As a body of work, there’s no one that this EP aligns with all the way through, and that’s not nothing. It comes with the feel of a band for whom stylisation is a distant way behind deliverance hammered out of straight ennui. Punk in its purest, sanctified form, in other words. For a band apparently ‘born to lose’, Bruise Control sure seem like they’re onto a winner.
For fans of: Rifle, Amyl & The Sniffers, Spiritual Cramp
‘Bruise Control’ by Bruise Control is released on 20th February on Republic Of Music.
Death Of Youth
Nothing Is The Same Anymore
You know that a band’s serious about this whole DIY lark when a separate label is releasing specifically the cassette version of their album. In fact, depending on where you are in the world, Death Of Youth’s Nothing Is The Same Anymore will be coming to you via one of more than half-a-dozen labels. That’s worth mentioning because…well, it’s probably the most unique thing about the album. This is emotional hardcore at its most no-nonsense, and no innovation. And that’s not inherently debilitating; Death Of Youth are familiar enough with what’s required of them for it to matter. The anxious style borne from emo and screamo is always good, and having it further condensed on Rumination and The Inverse Of Patriotism yields stronger results again. On top of that, the fervour with which it’s executed can’t be denied even slightly.
All the same, though, Nothing Is The Same Anymore is an unmistakable case of Debut Album Syndrome, as Death Of Youth get their bearings within the scene and not much else. Comparisons to Touché Amoré and La Dispute work best superficially; you’d struggle to find something as intricate or explorative as either on here. It’s an unforgiving benchmark to have thrust upon Death Of Youth, granted, but also not one you can just ignore. After all, this is supposed to be catharsis manifest, and as a patchwork of topics like trans rights, bigotry in heavy scenes and violence against women, the experience never seems too well-rounded. The trade-off between important subjects and their fragmented execution is where Nothing Is The Same Anymore stumbles, over and over again.
There’s also Rob David’s voice, which is more of a bugbear than an out-and-out fault, but still contributes to Death Of Youth’s very inexperienced feel. His ‘early-2010s British hardcore’ accent reads as a need for identity these days, which isn’t far from the truth at all. The basics and standards are here, but in this realm of post-hardcore, it’ll take more than just that to get Death Of Youth to the heights of their forebears. Still, for a debut, Nothing Is The Same Anymore has no egregious portents. All things considered, it’s a healthy-enough start, one where growth could come naturally. It’s not hard to believe that Death Of Youth will eventually come out with more to their name than an okay sound and a million labels to showcase it on.
For fans of: Touché Amore, La Dispute, Casey
‘Nothing Is The Same Anymore’ by Death Of Youth is out now on Engineer Records (UK), Cat’s Claw Records (UK – Cassette Tape Only), Sell The Heart Records (US), Remorse Records (France), Dancing Rabbit Records (Germany), Vina Records (Italy), & Pasidaryk Pat Records (Lithuania).
Words by Luke Nuttall
