The Philadelphia punk band lounge chairs its progressive hymns in winking middle age symbolism, playing with camp as they hone the guillotine's edge.
Fury and persecution are authentic constants. Poison Ruïn's Härvest weds primitive revolt with contemporary troublemaker rage, holding up a middle age mirror to the class' natural images of disappointment. The Philadelphia band exchanges the disobedient cityscape of Terrible Minds' "Prohibited in D.C." or the mechanical hellscape of the Microbes' "Media Rush" for fields, mazes, and burial chambers, yeeting contemporary sounds like a Molotov mixed drink through hundreds of years past.
The record is supporting and combustible; it's additionally a break. It guarantees transport, whether to an era long since past or an alternate profound plane. Opener "Zenith of Bliss" enters as though on a haze, epic synth surrendering to driving power harmonies as singer Macintosh Kennedy snarls, "Decay, face down in the drain/Shrouded in flies." In a little while, the guitars develop excited, the riffs confounding, and the melody's hero, crawling in the shadows, has tracked down joy in their modest station.
"Härvest," the collection's feature, follows a comparable way. Working from its gradual process true to life console opener, it segues into a propulsive troublemaker hymn, part Legend of Zelda and part Ramones. Settling on an open decision to revolt, Kennedy drones, "You planted your seed/In spite of the salt/Some epicurean's eagerness/You had your impact," adding forebodingly, "You have your influence until we make a motion."
Regardless of supernatural embellishments, from Endless Story-style break "Revival I" to the sword honing sounds that open "Rats Dance," the collection never crosses completely into the domain of camp. Poison Ruïn play intentionally with this line, winking sporadically from their seat close to the guillotine, however this record swears off the cheddar of adjoining knight-or wizard-center behaves like Chilled Earth or Undertaker. All things considered, Toxic substance Ruïn utilize images that highlight contemporary equals, genuine and significant abberations in riches and class that main exist since we grant them. "Isn't this our reap?" Kennedy asks on the nominal tune. "Isn't this our blowout to share?/Savvier ones are asking themselves,/'Who's swinging the sickle?'"
At its generally strong, Härvest instigates, whether the product of their reap is class fury or sadness. From the not so subtle eliminate of a dream, the audience is induced to rethink their relationship to work and office, whether swinging a sickle or working hourly at a supermarket. The energy eases back on "Foreshadow Pass on," a functionally very quick tune that could be crafted by any bad-to-the-bone band, yet by "Rats Dance," we're either wheeling around the pit with total surrender or bouncing into the seat with a lit light.
The best dissent tunes compare the surviving with the conceivable, the unsatisfactory with the confident. Like a horseman's boot to the face, Toxin Ruïn's collection is a sign of the savagery we endure and the viciousness we can distribute to support something more noteworthy. Whether transformation begins in a practice space or a field, Härvest validates that it's woozy and hot-blooded, a wellspring of force ascending from the drain.
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