Angry, mean, desperate....weird. Modern hardcore put through a filter that I can only describe as "Oklahoman" sentenced to do time on tiny magnetic tape with '90s US basement 'core and West Coast Powerviolence greats. I wish I could say that everyone gets along here, but the clash of frustrations from all side results in an incredibly tense release, and you feel kinda dirty after you listen to it. Whether that's the point or not, it's the effect. And it's honest.
Maybe presenting cassettes in their physical form is rather assholish behavior (on my part) when it means that you get a mutated, hiss-filled tweak to what the band likely intended, but I still believe that that's a part of the joy, and the excitement, of sub-par media. Life is a crapshoot, punk, and sometimes you get what you fukkn get even when you try real hard...and besides, you're on the damn internet. So if you want to hear a version more suited for driving to the mall in your mom's '14 Acura instead of getting shithoused on a country backroad north of Guthrie in that shitty '87 Ford pickup you keep limping around town, then CROSSBREAKER still has you covered.
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