Scene-veteran hardcore supergroups should have the promise that, with members individually cutting their teeth, destroying their lungs and breaking just about every bone they have, they know how to collectively make something that rips. Call that Commitment, and this band do, living up to the name and even poking an ironic jibe at it with a debut named Fear Of: a no-fucking-around affair from some prime purveyors of pissed music. And just at a time where their ‘anti-imperialist’ mindset is needed most.
Originators and pals Jake Smith and Pierce Jordan are hxc powerbanks––the former employing old No Qualms / Republicorpse bandmate bassist Zach Bailey, and the latter fronting, arguably, one of the most explosive groups in the world. Jordan takes the back-stage drumming role here, yet still embodies the image of breathlessness incarnate in his playing. I say that from experience having seen him and his microphone melting across the course of an hour, spluttering social commentary through egregious grills in the stage of mega-hip post-punk palace The Windmill of all places—weird! Where’s Soul Glo at, anyways?
I digress. Needless to say, Jordan’s latest troupe are making the right sort of waves, driving vitriol at those that deserve it. Most impressive is the super-hire of vocalist Tati Salazar; an indie-pop singer-songwriter with Modest Mouse YouTube covers who makes her first stint as formidable punk rock frontperson look like child’s play. Fear Of gets its most memorable moments of ear-pricking attention through Salazar’s bite, and lyrics that’ll make you gasp in astonishment or laugh. Either way, every instance breaks up your impromptu neck-snapping movements courtesy of Smith, Bailey and Jordan’s propulsive sub-two-minute rippers.
One look at the tracklist is enough to spark curiosity, and it speaks greater volumes once you dive in for Salazar’s lay of the land: a ‘take the power back’ sexual liberation anthem remarkably named Bukakkracy, Hall Of Meat and, perhaps, allusions to Tony Soprano’s HQ in Bada Bing!. With some re-recordings from their demo, we’ve already heard pure riffathons Hard Candy and Affirmative Action, and the re-named STD which features the best recorded use of “send the deposit!” in a track that follows the rhythms of a washing machine spin cycle. Pluto In Aquarius sees the band hitting a stank-face groove, and Jordan’s drumming characteristically feels like it’ll self-combust at any moment on Content. Initial single Hellraiser hits a hilarious waltz-style over an “I’m on your ass, bitch!” refrain, and plenty of Smith’s crossover style, minus the tasteless overly-squealing hair-metal shit (also displayed well on Neuromancer).
When there is pure venom, it feels absolutely genuine, with DOG POUND told from Salazar wanting to “divulge in my violent fantasies towards men that deserve such treatment”, and spares no prisoners, much like Lickback’s assertion of “watch what I will do to you”. In some instances where hardcore’s tongue-in-cheekness clashes with the provocations, it really does not work. Commitment seems to have nailed the two-in-one combo, straight from sequencing taster-course opener Thirst before the industrial-inspired spoken word ‘intro’ Let’s Begin that lets us know we were fated to find the band, to then utterly destroy a listener with twenty-or-so minutes of frenzied, funny and thought-provoking art. If you’re not on board, get on: there’s surely far more of the bumpy ride ahead for Philadelphia’s next hardcore maestros.
For fans of: Drain, End It, Speed
‘Fear Of’ by Commitment is released on April on Get Better Records.
Words by Elliot Burr
