Die Brucke

Total length shouldn’t really be influential in the overall impact of an album. Yet when a band can pack their eight-song attack into 15 minutes and leave you feeling like you were just beaten harder than a protester at Kent State, special consideration must be made. Even though the influences are decidedly close on the extreme music family tree (Doom and Crass’ crust, 9 Shocks Terror’s ravenous hardcore and elements of thrash metal in the Slayer vein), it’s the degree of reckless obliteration Die Brucke impose that is equal parts disturbing, shocking and inspiring. Singer Mark Black is just screeching his fucking head off, sounding like a pterodactyl with its genitalia caught in its own claws over riffs that relentlessly hammer away and come full-circle in under a minute. Creepy and evil thanks to the aforementioned vocal drive but daunting with the hyper drum pace and barbed guitar riffs, this ephemeral gem leads one to wonder what the fuck they’re putting in the water over in Nova Scotia… and can they share it, please?