TOTIMOSHI
Ladron
(Crucial Blast)

SUNNO)))/BORIS
Altar
(Southern Lord)

OM
Conference of the Birds
(Holy Mountain)

DOOMRIDERS
Black Thunder
(Deathwish)

GIANT SQUID
Metridium Fields
(The End)

THE COFFIN LIDS
Round Midnight 

(Bomp)

NACHTMYSTIUM
Instinct Decay

(Battle Kommand)

MORE REVIEWS

The first time I saw these guys live was horrific. And by horrific I mean, it was incredibly exhilarating. Sure, it wasn’t for a few others in attendance, but for me watching the exact moment when vocalist Bob Gorham’s neck vein burst out of his stretched neck skin and sprayed the whole front row with blood was almost like the equivalent of an out of body experience to a tantric sex practitioner.  Can we say I am a sanguinary son of a bitch? To put the icing on the chocolate cake, Gorham then stepped down to the crowd’s side and started demolishing faces with his ridiculously giant hammer-like clenched fists Whak-a-Mole style.  People were getting knocked down like marbles in the middle of a hurricane. I mean, this shit was ridiculous and all because the front row had been packed with tight jean wearing teenagers who for some unknown reason thought they were watching Joan Baez at Woodstock. Them silly boys had their arms up and were waving them slowly from left to right, form right to left. One of them even got his tongue bitten off by Gorham who then proceeded to spit it out before kicking into a merciless rendition of “The Thinning Cynic” of his band’s latest album. OK, maybe this is all bullshit and I have never seen Syracuse, NY’s Engineer live, but The Dregs certainly brings you close.

Or so I think. Those who were wise enough to check out their mighty Hex Records release Reproach already know that this three brothers and drummer don’t fuck around and that in matter of minutes their intelligent and brutal hardcore meets bits of hidden noise is as textured and intricately designed as balls out hardcore is going to get before getting evicted of the New York school. Like Reproach, The Dregs is top notch.  Ten tracks quickly get laid out in a bit over half an hour; enough time to watch distorted riffs fall drip like wet ink, chunky riffs bitch slap you in the face, burly and stenchy vocals provoke stomach turning, nuanced drums inspiring kids to bang on pots and pans and causing enough energy to fuel an Iranian power plant.  Yes, Engineer belong to the same school of hometown boys Achilles; those which are elevating basic hardcore, not getting to the forward thinking levels of post hardcore bands, but opting for retaining the brutality and using it as a basis to present smart structure. Once again well-done.