By Various Artists
I don't profess to like metal or hardcore or any of that dark, hairy, sweaty stodge so I view this as an experiment. My lack of knowledge will become apparent, though methodologically I will be correct, and thankfully I wear the shield of subjectivity to protect me from a dark, sweaty uprising. For effect I turned my stereo to hyperdrive velocity, syringed my ears and donned some heavily insulated headphones. This is what happened.
First up is the unimaginative acronym RSJ with Deadbolt. The first minute was like riding a BMX up a ten-storey sand dune. I found myself staring meaninglessly at a stain on the carpet and wondering if the blitz sounded as badly coordinated as this. There was a little spasm in my right shoulder, I felt hysterically bored and my toes began to itch. Then my teeth did likewise. My cat watched me suspiciously and nervously from afar. Next, Asking Alexandria (the song title is largely irrelevant) sound a bit like Satan relentlessly hammering Cookie Monster around the head with a steel chair. In a wind-tunnel. Whilst roller-skating on a carpet of crisps. Several of my favourite brain cells were severed brutally from my cerebral cortex and for the first time ever I ponder Coronation Street as a viable entertainment alternative. Even the neighbours knock on the walls to show their disgust.
Following this dirge, LAP (another crap acronym) give us 'The Minute I Live Is The Minute I Die', which hopefully means by the time you read this they will have left this life and are unlikely to remain the blatant ear-botherers that they are. I scratch my toe enough to stop it itching. Scratching my teeth doesn't work but it injects a bit of fun into the proceedings. For a brief minute I consider what the band look like. I flick through a tabloid from three weeks ago which is lying around. I remain un-entertained. Apparently the next dirge is by Anemic (what is it about metal bands trying to sound risqué?). After three seconds I am already showing symptoms of anaemia: my skin has turned pallid, I feel fatigued, the palpitations have commenced and I'm unusually short of breath. Some kids are fighting outside on the street. My phone rings. The noise in my ears melts into one constant hum like a rusty Russian power plant. Unfortunately Djevara ('Moths To The Flame') aren't helping my condition. My lungs rattle. My eyes water. It's like eating rhubarb crumble laced with glassy shards and strychnine. I remember why metal is a niche taste. I sip some water and hope to remain conscious for long enough to complete my experiment. Lastly (and certainly least) is Circle of One. It's basically the sound of a hoover being chanted at by Neolithic cavemen with no tongues and ruptured vocal chords. In a damp cave. I'm almost there. I just have to sit through the last minute. Which sounds like a lisping goat roaring into a pebble-hurling hairdryer. Metal's shit. Enough said. Get over it.