The Casualties
Under Attack

For you, what is punk?

Was it an ethical-social phenomenon that involved the '70s and, marginally, the '80s? Was it a movement of rebellion by the teenagers of that time, in response to the arrogant Vietnam War conducted by the rebellious Americans? Was it a particular musical genre, which gave rise to a myriad of forgotten bands and unforgettable sacred monsters, such as Clash, Ramones, and Sex Pistols? In your opinion, did punk die in the Eighties and was only partially redeemed in the first half of the '90s, merging with some metal elements and giving birth to grunge, the flagship genre of Nirvana and Alice In Chains? Well. If you answered affirmatively to all these questions, know that you need to take a step back and review your theories. Because punk is still among us: angrier, more motivated, and more polemical than ever.

The Casualties are one of the most famous and influential street-punk bands in their genre. Formed in 1990, in New York, from an idea by the singer Jorge Contreas, they unite many purely punk themes (the lyrics, the limited duration of the songs, the prominence of drums and percussion) with some elements belonging to the hardcore genre (the great speed of execution, as well as the introduction of screaming as the predominant vocal part). And from 1990 to today, the guys have come a long way: both musically (first demo recorded the same year of founding, first EP in 1995, first album, "For The Punx," in 1997) and socially (they are credited with the invention of the slogans "up the punx" and "punx unite").

In 2006 their latest work, "Under Attack," was released: and right from the cover, the New York quartet reveals their intentions. The artwork is classic (there have been too many guys with mohawks), and despite the passing of time, still one of the most direct. It's as if Contreas were saying: hey, boys, there's no room for virtuosity here, no room for instrumental complexity, no room for difficulty, no room for heaviness and other unidentified objects. This is a punk record, with all that's necessary, and nothing more. And these days, thank God if it's truly like that.

The start is rocket-like: the first homonymous track opens with an elementary bass riff, preceded and accompanied by some muffled bass drum hits. The drums then begin to evolve: the first rolls appear, while Contreas's raspy screaming enters the scene for the first time. The chorus can only be in adolescent-angry-with-the-world style: a nice little chant of "Under Attack!" sandwiched between drumming and a guitar riff. There's no time to stop, no time to recover: on with the second piece, "Without Warning." Guitar riff with vaguely Far West echoes, drums always in the foreground, verses squawked by the hoarse singer, choruses repeated by the whole band. The rhythmic structure is in perfect oi! style: one can already imagine the scene, with the skinheads in front of us, complete with mohawks, studs, batons, and banners. The effect is truly remarkable. Third piece, with an apocalyptic title ("System Failed Us... Again"): opening from the anthology, with a series of repeated and furious beats. The guitar, as always, is limited to two, three chords at most: what really pleases is the stadium chant that, throughout the song, alternates (or accompanies) Contreas's work. Too much, however, spoils: there is an exaggeration in placing the collective singing, and in the end, the composition proves too repetitive. A half misstep that ruins a decidedly interesting cue.

The moment arrives for "Social Outcast": the band manages to dose polemic, rebellion, and provocation in this track (which opens with a rebellious "We are the enemies/of this society"), and to show themselves relevant, they decide to harden the guitar riffs while remaining faithful to the simple punk rhythm. There is a recorded increase in speed on the drums by Megger Egger, and angrier screaming by Contreas, almost metal. It is definitely contrasting, therefore, the pairing with the fifth "VIP": guitars softened to the point of producing typical beach pop chords, drums relieved from the overwhelming task of producing supersonic drumming, chorus decidedly in Green Day style, verses much less aggressive than average. Even if the rebellious soul is never denied: the final "fuck you" is a concrete example of this. "No Solution - No Control": sixth, piercing composition, one of the fastest on the record, one of the simplest, one of the most powerful. Perfect initial blend between drums and guitar: the drums then is left free to do whatever it desires most, while guitar and bass fixate on three-chord riffs. Contreas does what he has to do: make noise. The screaming returns hoarse and violent: and the song flies by with pleasure. The seventh piece, "Down & Out", offers some surprises: the onset is entrusted to Eggers, who marks the rhythm with criminal expertise imitating the bass drums and drums of marching bands. In a second moment, Jake Pass Kleatis's guitar is invited to join the party: and what a party. While one can imagine the underlying crowd beginning to mosh with indecent enthusiasm, the good Contreas emits chilling sounds that could be attributed to common screaming or the wails of pigs slaughtered in industrial facilities. And as per the quartet's best tradition, key words highlighted with a chant: in this case, "Down & Out".

Eighth track: "In It For Life" is a true outburst, borrowing all the anger of the oi! movement to transfer it onto a pedal, six strings, or an inflamed throat. Worth noting is a first attempt at a solo, halfway through the song: successful halfway, as under ten seconds it's not really a solo. At least the modesty is appreciated. After various adventures, one arrives at "On City Streets", the album's masterpiece. Initial part dominated exclusively by the band's chants: the guitar and bass are limited to a subdued background, which transforms into something more only around the minute mark. Away with the counter-choirs, away with the delicacies: a rough punk track begins, predominated by screaming, with new drum contrasts and a stronger presence of Mike Beer's bass. Anyway, the epilogue is applause-worthy: the band, once again united, sings with a shaky voice, a symptom of heavy intoxication, "Casualties... come on Casualties" for a duration of forty seconds. And the Casualties arrive, indeed they do. With new and renewed energy, with new and renewed ferocity: one could summarize the content of "Fallen Heroes", the following track, which records a hallucinatory drumming, followed by a chant of "Fallen Heroes" at around fifteen seconds. Contreas, at the expense of vocal cords, decides to give his all to vomit his soul onto the microphone and rasp like a man possessed the word "heroes... heroes!". And indeed, this excess of foaming fury is noticed in the penultimate song, "The Great American Progress".

The band is now exhausted: Contreas's screaming is weak, perhaps too weak, and the riffs loom menacingly over his shoulders, threatening to strike him. But even the chords lack clarity, and drummer Meggers Eggers seems to have run out of ideas. How to recover from this sharp decline? But with an instrumental, of course: "Under Attack" is masterfully closed by the conclusive "Stand And Fight" (and if this isn't punk...), a minute and forty-two seconds of free space, dedicated to nervous riffs alternating with very rapid rolls and moments of calm, soon suffocated under a ton of anger.

To conclude, then, what can be said about this "Under Attack"? For fans of the genre, it would be a must to buy the cd: a release from the Casualties is nonetheless, for better or worse, a true event for the community of punk, punk-like, skinhead and company. For all those unfamiliar with the genre, but who were interested, "Under Attack" is an excellent starting point. To the band's detractors, however, let it suffice to know this. With this latest cd, the Casualties have taken nothing away, added nothing: they have simply, and masterfully, reiterated. Requiem.