Urbanoia-Svart Sement EP (2013)

Well, I haven't reviewed any hardcore records in awhile. Hell, I haven't reviewed anything at all in awhile. So why not get back to music-writing, and the music of my youth, with Stavanger's Urbanoia, eh? Following in a venerable tradition of heavy Scandinavian ragers, Urbanoia presents thee with four tracks of 'eavy, 'eavy blitzkrieg bop.

 I'm pretty sure it's obligatory to mention Discharge if you're reviewing a hardcore punk record these days, but actually Urbanoia doesn't really do the d-beat thing. As far as I can tell, who knows, maybe d-beat has morphed into how Urbanoia sounds. In any case, this is heavy (not metal-heavy, though) hardcore that goes for mid-tempo, clean production instead of a wall of shrieking feedback. It's raining, I'm hungover, the sun hasn't been out in days, and I'm pretty sure lots of bad things are happening in the world right now: Urbanoia's just as good a soundtrack for this mood as anything else.

You can listen to Urbanoia, and possibly buy their EP, here.

Svart Framtid-1984 EP (take a wild guess)

"hey man, it's quality not quantity..."-Slater, Dazed & Confused
 If you could boil punk down to a DNA strand, Svart Framtid's 1984 might be the product. This is the only thing SF recorded before dissolving. Yet it contains all the virtues of punk as a musical form, and lacks its downsides, which are legion.

  Many years ago one of my friends was critiquing a band that another friend had just started, saying that "these dudes don't know how to write songs, they only know how to write hardcore songs. A good hardcore song isn't the same thing as a good song." Substitute "punk" for "hardcore" there, and you've got Svart Framtid.
  Every moment on this EP is essential to the band's majestic coherence: the guitar lead on "Religious Terror"; the perfectly paired drum-bass intro to "Disiplin"; the intro to "Milliarder," which puts a dozen Dead Kennedys bass leads to shame;  the singer's fucking urgency.
   I don't speak Norwegian. I don't know shit about Norway. Except that Vikings and Knut Hamsun were in part or whole from there. But I do know that this guy MEANT every fuckin' word he sang! How many punks, this 'un included, could ever say that without lying?
  I remember hearing SF for the first time on the Red Line,  headin' down to Boystown for another teen blooz New Year's Eve party in 2008. It was about 6 in the evening, I was already wasted, and the Navy Pier-bound yuppie revelers were clearly disgusted as I started slam-dancing in my seat to this slab of nordic brilliance.
  Please don't be waiting for me. Shit is ~30 years outta print, but all you spiky-haired punx should peeps the blog I stole this sweet wax from, here!