Hardcore, grindcore, crustcore, doomcore, sludgecore, trudgecore, d-beatcore, sorecore, filthcore, mudcore, applecore, boarcore, warcore, fistcore, killcore…
Cor blimey, that’s a lot of cores. Yet somehow all of them roughly seem apt as descriptions of relatively new North London mob Dysteria, who spilt their debut puddle of misery Fuck The Future on our heads back in February of this year. After a year of inactivity, the band are now back together and primed and ready to self-destroy themselves night after night at the expense of amp stacks, beer bottles and minds all across the UK. Taking in the apocalypse-summoning lead vocals of Jill (also of Hate Fuck), the gutter-slurry bass of Matt (also Dead Existence), the mortician’s scythe of Donny’s (Nebukadnezza, Kunt Puncher) guitar and the firing-squad drums of Jake (Who Cares?, ex-Ghee) and locking them together as one, this becomes the deafening sound of pure, disgusting vitriol at its grimmest.
Slamming straight into the full-on assault of Thirst, Matt and Donny’s penchant for nailing the punkier side the sludge metal riff comes straight to the fore as Jill vomits and spews her guttural intensity across this hyper-speed carnage. Carvery ups the ante even further. I don’t know what the subject matter at hand is but it’s certainly not as jovial as a Sunday roast with Yorkie puds-style carvery as Jill’s roar takes on a new dimension of darkness atop Donny’s chugging breakdowns and Jake’s pounding blasts of extremity.
Epitaphs hits more of a sludge note initially, like a bastardised EyeHateGod out on the streets scraping through bins for anything syringe-shaped or lager-scented as Donny’s razor sharp licks give way to a raft of crunching, bone-slapping riffs. Unearth mangles a sinister sense of unrest with a brutal feeling of near fatal closure. As a chilling excerpt from the ‘rat pack speech’ of former Clydebank Communist councillor Jimmy Reid rings down from the skies, it’s Matt bludgeoning bassline that rams the track home between the eyes and into your skull for good. The “little ditty about greed and accountability” that is Defaultocrat is a slow crawl through the same sewers once only inhabited by the likes of Noothgrush and Winter. Never once popping its head up out of a manhole to roar at full stretch, the track instead just wades onwards forever through the grime.
Quadraplegic is the eventual pressure-release value; a full-on barrage through fields of mechanised guitar torture and nail-spiked drumwork all encrusted in vacuum-packed coffin of despair. Invalides returns us to the punkier filth of the early sections of the record, but fills out through its centre with a choppy sludge-riff and deathcrawl that the likes of Brainoil or Cavity could once have mustered up in their prime. Closer Mephistopheles has a whiff of one-time underground sludge heroes Dopefight about its intro before it collapses headfirst into a gauntlet of drug abuse, careering blitzkriegs of guitar and wallpaper-peeling howls. It’s certainly got a “thank you and good fucking night!” about its powerful conclusion and yet by the time the bass abruptly cuts out it seems barely five seconds since you switched this entire minefield of hatred on in the first place.
From its scorched earth cover art to its apocalyptic vision of continuous, spell-bound misery, Dysteria have crafted a sound and a set that oozes bile, wretchedness and spite from every pore. If this really is the future, then we really are all fucked beyond any comprehension. Deadcore? You can only hope you will be by the time this lot roll into your town to torch your warehouse-scattered belongings and sleep on your urine-stained mattress. In other words: highly recommended listening for those with a crusty outer core.
Scribed by: Pete Green