Irreverent, chaotic, jerk, rancid.
Played at the speed of the rhythm section, so dear to hardcore, in this album the American quartet led by Armstrong, backed by musically more restrained punk rock standards, wants to spit out the true punk blood that flows in their veins, understood and expressed as an inseparable essence from life, far from any category and fashion.
Thus, 40 minutes of dirty and unworthy instinct flow through Tim Armstrong's increasingly hoarse voice, which pays for the abuse of marijuana, and Frederiksen's unreachable palm-muted notes. To season this rancid sauce of sounds, Freeman's bass virtuosity infiltrates, never limited to the standard verse/chorus format but rather follows the flow of notes that runs through each musician, at the expense of precise metric rules.
It's hard to grasp the singular meaning of each song; it's punk that rejects it.
Fascinating, inconclusive, rancid.
"Rancid... is highly surprising, 16 intense tracks surrounded by a raw and tenacious sound."
"The only flaw... is having created structures that in some instances are very similar to each other."
The musical style of the album is nothing but raw Hardcore Punk without melody except for a few songs.
An album I recommend to all Hardcore Punk enthusiasts, both Old School and modern.