It was 1999 and Reading Festival that my head was first turned by what I now understand to be a hardcore band. Oddly enough, Sick Of It All were playing the main stage that day, and although swamped by the towering proscenium arch, monolithic looking thing, Sick Of It All, delivered what only a hardcore band can (if you’re reading this you’ll know, if not go find out). It set me off an a quest to discover hardcore punk, to buy the records and the shirts and know the names. I bought those Victory Records compilations, loved H2O and Snapcase and the like. It was 99/00…come on. I also learned a lot of the bands/records I’d loved prior to this owed a lot to hardcore.
The lineage of the movement is clearly to dense a thing to delve into here and I know from experience that the parameters and pioneers of hardcore are as sacred as they are hotly contested. For those that want a more comprehensive account I recommend Stephen Blush’s book American Hardcore.
I lost touch with the scene somewhat over the years, however, there have been some incredible bands that come from that hardcore proving ground. The sheer volume of hardcore bands and an often strict adherence to certain formulas made me slip out of the loop somewhat over time.
Having said this, this week I heard a record that made me feel the same way I did almost 20 years ago the first time I encountered hardcore. This being the new self- titled release from Manchester’s Incisions. Although I loved them, Sick Of It All were from New York City, unobtainable, American and enigmatic. With Incisions, I am confronted with some of the most honest and candid punk rock I have encountered in years. Music which reflects the world I see in urban and small town Britain. These young northerners capture the shit zero-hour contract Tory Britain that has bought the the country to its knees. 60 hours is a hardcore masterpiece, as is the utter abandon and nihilism running throughout the record. This is Black Flag, Minor Threat Level, visceral, fuck the world music. With lyrics like “I’m stealing food, so I’ve got drug money”, you can’t help but say that this is a bleak album, but an album that is a sign of the times.
Yet this is an album that gives me hope. That the disenfranchised youth are making art that both mirrors and spews bile at their surroundings. And as the performance artist Andre Stitt points out “Art is not a mirror, it’s a fucking hammer”, and after all is said and done, this is hardcore.
Tonko Jeff Music 