Charger

Purely misanthropic hatecore/sludge emanating from the United Kingdom isn’t a new phenomenon (remember Iron Monkey? Oh, and a little band called Black Sabbath) but it’s still seen as a little brother to the U.S.’s unholy trinity of Cavity, Eyehategod and the dearly departed Buzzov*en. And while Charger doesn’t exactly redefine a genre that has always been more about misanthropy and musical (self-) abuse than innovation, they throw their hats into leading the next wave (especially with much of the U.S.’s established acts facing uncertain futures or already breaking up). Feedback-drenched dystopian doom crashes and breaks on the jagged rocks of more up-tempo hardcore punk and it’s clear that Charger have taken the Sabbath/Melvins/Black Flag influence of their peers (think Eyehategod, whom they most closely resemble and who are largely responsible for the genre) to their blackened hearts. However, Charger’s sonic violence is given increased hostility and credibility by legendary producer Billy Anderson (Neurosis, Melvins, EHG, etc.), who imbues Confessions with a recklessness and animosity that almost, if not quite, equals that of its peers, which few drowning in that next wave ever achieve. It must be all that Smiths, Cure and rain that inspires so much hatred in the UK; who can blame them?