It’s difficult to fault the ethos of this album.  It’s so bone-crunchingly heavy and malevolent, the band sound like they’re burrowing into your consciousness the way At The Drive In used to.  Kinda like the sound a pig would make, if it had been stuck with a very large needle, hog-tied and sliced with a razor between the nostrils, The Drone twists the whole Hardcore/Thrash/Noise Rock genre beyond all recognition; displaying enough weird talents to hint that they could take this absolutely anywhere.  And while the pig analogy is adequate, WAKD’s attack is far more direct.  It’s not pretty but it’s certainly unique and they should be applauded for steaming back after 12’s Tit for Tat, with the kinda riffs that made Dillinger Escape Plan rulers of the stripped-down Noise Rock roost.  The album slams in with ‘This Better Be Life Threatening Norman’, the vocalist screaming – “Channelling frustration, guess I’ve made my bed. This was confessed, routine addiction in Sunday best”, before the disarming ‘Starting Strength’ and ‘Class of 94’ sandwich raw gashes of noise with sweet slices of sound.  To expect the word to fall at their feet would be a tall order, but they do manage to convince you of their authenticity and could easily give their peers a run for their money in the ‘you’d better believe it’ stakes!  Of course there’s no escaping the doom and grime blitz coursing throughout, proving WAKD aren’t afraid of anything; which is why they can get away with the wild rumbling death combo’s on ‘Sucker’ and ‘The Moon On A Stick’.  For best results – cram 300 friends in your living room, slap this on, and thrash like a bastard! You wanna know where they’re from?  Don’t be dense!  Only Geordies could come up with something this disturbing. Right?  (7)



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