I’m super-stoked to post something home-grown for a change instead of my usual filthy brew of US and Scando nastiness.
British hardcore band Gallows have hovered around the edges of my heavy radar for a couple of years.
I dipped a pinkie into 2009’s Grey Britain but I couldn’t get a lock on it despite the rave reviews in the UK music press.
That’s all changed with today’s release of the eponymous Gallows. It’s their third album but first with new throat Wade MacNeil after shedding fan and press favourite Frank Carter.
OK so MacNeil is Canadian (and sounds not unlike his compatriot, Fucked Up’s barking supremo Damian Abraham) but the rest of the band remains British as Marmite, pork pies and being emotionally repressed.
It would have killed off a lesser band but Gallows have finally stopped lurking in my front garden like a gang of sickly paedos and instead ripped off their shirts, flexed their guns, kicked down my doors, slapped me round the chops, punted my balls into my orbit and given my wife the rogering of her life.
Yep, it’s that good folks.
Gallows is furious hardcore punk that’s able to sling out serrated pop hooks without diluting its riff-tastic power even an ounce.
It’s also catchier than the clap. I listened to it six times on the bounce today – I just couldn’t get enough.
Spotify has it too:
Top tracks are single Outsider Art and album closer Cross of Lorraine.