Anger. Righteous indignation. These are the stakes that tether and ground rock and roll to the Earth, roll it in the dirt and filth and muck. If it can rise from that soup, caked and muddied from battle we call it crust punk. I’m on pain meds so I have no idea if that metaphor makes any sense but it’s what I think of when I hear Wolfbrigade. There’s little in the way of pretense or artifice on new album The Enemy: Reality. Just an unrelenting pursuit of speed and aggression, a hardcore chase of the elusive Kilmister meat and potato savagery. Continue reading
Nine Circles 