Half Digested
Demo 1

"We are grindcore" (cit.).

This review could begin and end with this phrase, caught once by pure chance in a forum of musical zealots born and raised on Napalm Death and Nasum. Whether willingly or unwillingly, it's impossible nowadays to deny the importance of a genre, or subgenre if you will, like this. Born in the mid-Eighties, it picks up the sickest lessons of the hardest punk and the most extreme metal, all built on frenzied rhythms, a task that puts the human endurance to the test, not only of the various guitarists and drummers—who, incidentally, will end up with a terrifying tendinitis by thirty—but also of the (voluntary and willing) unfortunates who, for reasons we won't delve into here, decide to sacrifice a significant part of their eardrums to the "profane" word of musical extremism. To be clear, looking at concert setlists and albums, there’s often a ton of material, but almost always the "songs" (does that term even make sense anymore?) are nothing more than wild shards of little more than thirty seconds. "Already over?": yes, already over, and I'm sorry if you missed it.

What initially might have seemed like a joke, something for youngsters wanting to play at being tough punks, paradoxically takes deeper root, with new bands—often short-lived—that suddenly start inundating fanzines worldwide with tapes and CDs, making it clear that what might have seemed a passing wave is actually a tsunami of biblical dimensions. Remembering their punk origins, grindcore thus manages to become, in certain contexts, a voice of revolt and rebellion, the voice of those who stand against it but who, due to a chronic lack of means, can only use a battered cassette to make their voice heard. And if the genre, at least as far as the legendary figures are concerned, might give the impression that what needed to be said has already been put on record years ago, it's striking to see how over time a fertile underground scene has asserted itself, capable of churning out (self-)productions at remarkable speed that are absolutely noteworthy. Add to this that the last few years have been spent between layoffs and protest sit-ins in front of a company that won't renew your contract, and you'll understand that the soil, the explosive mix, is just right. Grind therefore returns to be the most extreme and true representation of the society we live in: homo homini lupus, this is a jungle, baby. And if the climate isn't rosy in the Big Apple, imagine around Bangkok, where between a typhoon and a layoff letter, they really didn't ring in 2012 with glasses raised.

But let's see it this way, not all evil comes to harm and so, in a semi-catastrophic situation where even the turn's McClane would throw in the towel, the Half Digested are born from almost nowhere. "Why the name? To show that, despite everything, this society hasn't yet, or rather, if it will have us it won't have us alive. That's why we're "Half Digested". We still haven't become a cog in the system". These aren't just "indignados", they are outright furious. "There's a strong scene, we just have to make ourselves heard and any occasion is good, from the myspace profile to giving away the CD at a student rally. Many don’t understand us, but we already have a small following". Ho Chi Minh, an artistic name that already indicates which side they're on, is 22 years old, has a bass bought by contributing friends and very clear ideas. Raised on ultra-pirated bootlegs of Morbid Angel and the "usual" Napalm Death, he doesn't know any other way to express himself than this. It's definitely better than throwing molotovs at the police and risking catching a bullet in the forehead. Wang Hoo on guitar and Paul on drums and you're set.

"Demo 1", recorded with few means and distributed with even less, becomes all the rage in a few months, at least for how much a grind record can in "the extreme Bangkok that matters": five songs five for a total of a full 8 minutes of a record; considering the general pace of their American and British colleagues, we could almost define them progressive-grind. Jokes aside, the three really deserve it and at least for once the anger that oozes from the lyrics, often written in a somewhat improvised English, appears sincere and not contrived, really managing to convey the sense of despair and anguish of someone who at twenty has already realized that their wheel is unlikely to turn in the right direction. Paul (and the surname?) has the same grace as an elephant in a china shop behind the drum set, the bass is pulsating and ever-present despite the awful production, and Ho's voice, alternating between a growl setup and a more acidic one, indebted to old American thrash, is really noteworthy. "Mosquito" guitar? Present, from beginning to end, and every now and then there’s even space for a tiny little solo (oh, a minute of song is a minute). Napalm Death’s "Scum" as the closing, as usual.

To be clear, this is and remains stuff for diehards, I don't think our guys will ever cross the borders of their native Bangkok and I don't know if any label will ever be willing to invest in them and let them taste the "glory" of an official CD, but be that as it may. The satisfaction remains of seeing and hearing how, even in disadvantaged situations, something valid and interesting can often be produced, creating more for themselves than for others and how dear old rock'n’roll, even here in one of its most extreme and rotten versions, can take root even in the most unlikely contexts. As the "alley poet" said, "flowers grow from manure"? Well, if the flowers are like these, there is nothing but to congratulate them.

P.S.: The group's myspace profile, no longer active for several weeks, is currently inaccessible and was, at least for the moment, the only way to listen to the very limited repertoire of the three outside national borders.

Half Digested:

Ho Chi Minh, vocals and bass

Wang Hoo, guitar

Paul, drums

Demo 1 (2011):

Now you see me, now you don't

What lies

Back to the front

Green for money

Scum (Napalm Death cover)