Street Sects
End Position

“We are a virus / We’re a product of bad luck / We scream our way into existence / Nine months after, someone else gets fucked”.

Let me say right from the start, End Position, the debut album by the Street Sects, is not for everyone. It is a dark and angry album, from the first to the last note; pounding, obsessive, and migraine-inducing, both in its sounds and lyrics.

It's true, we've often heard similar words when talking about extreme music. Numerous artists find artistic release in the absolute noise, but what sets the Street Sects apart from the rest?

Imagine finding yourself in a room full of televisions, many old cathode-ray tube TVs, transmitting nothing but irritating static signal. Outside this room, the chaos of dozens of jackhammers hammering on the asphalt continuously.

Looking out the window, you notice that there's no one wielding these tools. They operate on their own, as if possessed. Where are the men? The pillars of smoke in the distance make it immediately clear: at war, against themselves. If you're still confused, the bombs exploding on the horizon will clear up any doubts. Amidst the catastrophe, slowly, you recognize other details; sirens, gunshots and screams, human cries of despair. Panicking, you wonder what has happened to the Earth, what has turned it into such a colorless hell filled with noise.

Fortunately, you wake up... you drink the glass of water on your nightstand, you calm yourself. It was just a nightmare!

End Position, however, is real.

Take a big scoop of the most vicious NIN residues (from their early career, to be precise) and the most anarchic and disillusioned Atari Teenage Riot, and absorb certain radiations of power electronics school, Leo Ashline (vocals) and Shaun Ringsmuth (multi-instrumentalist), via The Flenser, shape this tremendous amalgam of industrial, punk, and harsh noise.

All of this, however, is taken to the extreme, in pursuing a fascinating aesthetic of sound terrorism, highly percussive, calculated in a meticulous and ingenious way. I am eager to use this last adjective because in shaping the noise, the two are extremely capable.

Amidst breaking glass, screeching metal, emptying cartridges, and unsettling samples, there is never peace in this sonic battle, and in the total time of 32 minutes, this whirl of sadism comes to an end, leaving us, besides the corroded eardrums, the sensation of having just listened to an excellent example of ultra-violent experimentalism dated 2016.

Those who love a certain racket (non)musical will have their fun; if you're curious and want to give it a chance, be ready for the worst... the nightmare will become reality.