There are two types of people in this world. Those who listen to Hatebreed and immediately feel the urge to run through a brick wall, and those who probably shouldn’t be left in charge of the stereo at a party.
It’s been six bloody years since Connecticut’s finest purveyors of musical violence last unleashed a studio album upon an unsuspecting public. Six fucking years! That’s practically a lifetime in hardcore terms. Long enough for governments to change, the ginger-haired orange blimp to get his finger back on the nuclear button, petrol prices to go through the fucking roof and your average Hatebreed fan to develop a dodgy knee that makes getting out of the mosh pit considerably more difficult than getting into it.
But fear not, because Jamey Jasta and his merry band of exceptionally angry gentlemen have returned with Fatal Paradox, their ninth studio album, and they’ve clearly decided that subtlety is something best left to Coldplay.
If you’re expecting a dramatic change of direction, perhaps some acoustic ballads, a string quartet or Jasta exploring his sensitive side over a gentle piano accompaniment, then you’ve come to the wrong place.
This is Hatebreed doing what Hatebreed do best: delivering enormous riffs, bone-crunching breakdowns and enough motivational aggression to make your local gym instructor look like a complete lightweight. And thank Christ for that.
Opening track ‘Kill Count Increase’ wastes precious little time reminding us exactly who we’re dealing with. A dark, menacing introduction gives way to an absolute battering ram of thrash-infused hardcore. It’s the musical equivalent of opening your front door and being greeted by an angry rhinoceros wearing steel-toe-capped boots. There’s no polite introduction, no gentle easing into proceedings. Just an immediate reminder that Hatebreed aren’t here to make friends.
‘The Carrion Choir’ follows with the sort of savage, neck-snapping intensity that made this band such an important force in heavy music in the first place. The riffs are enormous, the drums sound like someone demolishing a small building with a pneumatic drill, and Jasta’s vocals remain as gloriously confrontational as ever.
And that’s something worth mentioning. After more than three decades of shouting at people for a living, Jamey Jasta still sounds like a man who’s just discovered somebody has parked across his driveway. There’s venom, conviction and genuine passion in every syllable. He’s not simply barking instructions at the listener; he’s delivering the sort of motivational speech that would have you charging into battle armed with nothing more than a packet of crisps and an unreasonable amount of confidence.
‘Decisions Become Destinies’ introduces some particularly tasty thrash influences, complete with sharp guitar work and a surprisingly impressive solo. It’s a reminder that beneath all the testosterone-fuelled mayhem, Hatebreed are a seriously accomplished group of musicians. They’re perfectly capable of doing something technically clever; they just prefer to hit you over the head with it rather than frame it and hang it on the wall.
The brilliantly titled ‘Total Invincible’ is another absolute monster. If this doesn’t get heads banging and fists pumping, then I suggest checking for a pulse. It’s got everything you’d want from a Hatebreed track: aggression, groove, enormous breakdowns and that wonderful feeling that somebody has attached a rocket engine to your backside.
The title track, ‘Fatal Paradox’, keeps the momentum going, delivering another hefty helping of social frustration and defiance. Hatebreed have always been rather good at turning anger into something strangely positive. Where other bands might spend an entire album wallowing in misery, Jasta and company seem determined to grab you by the collar, shake some sense into you and tell you to get off your arse and do something about it.
It’s motivational speaking for people who prefer their self-help advice delivered through a Marshall stack.
‘Still A Threat’ does exactly what its title suggests, proving that age hasn’t softened this lot in the slightest. The guitars are filthy, the rhythm section is relentless, and the whole thing has the sort of swagger that comes from knowing you’re exceptionally good at what you do.
But one of the album’s real highlights arrives in the shape of ‘Sacrifice Season’, featuring none other than Obituary frontman John Tardy.
Now there’s a collaboration that makes perfect sense. Putting Jamey Jasta and John Tardy together is rather like inviting two particularly aggressive grizzly bears to a dinner party and then wondering why the furniture’s been destroyed.
Tardy’s unmistakable death-metal growl adds another dimension to proceedings, and the resulting collision of hardcore and old-school death metal is absolutely magnificent. It’s heavy, nasty and gloriously uncompromising. If this track doesn’t cause absolute carnage when played live, I’ll eat my camera bag.
‘Truth Is A Lion’ and ‘Make The Demons Obey’ continue the relentless assault, the latter delivering some particularly vicious thrash-metal guitar work. There’s a definite Slayer-like edge to parts of the record, although everything is unmistakably filtered through Hatebreed’s trademark hardcore brutality.
What makes Fatal Paradox particularly enjoyable is that the band haven’t forgotten the importance of groove. Yes, it’s heavy enough to register on the Richter scale, but there’s an irresistible rhythmic quality running through these songs. They’re not simply trying to play as fast as humanly possible. They’re making music designed to get bodies moving, heads banging and security guards questioning their career choices.
Then comes ‘None Left To Save’, a sprawling (for Hatebreed, at least) six-and-a-half-minute beast that demonstrates Hatebreed aren’t afraid to stretch their musical muscles. By their standards, that’s practically a progressive rock epic. You could probably fit three traditional Hatebreed songs into that running time, with enough room left over for Jasta to shout at you about personal responsibility.
It’s an ambitious, punishing conclusion to the album’s original material and shows that, even after all these years, the band still have a few tricks tucked away beneath their heavily tattooed sleeves.
Finally, there’s a cover of Corrosion Of Conformity’s ‘Poison Planet’, which receives the full Hatebreed treatment. It’s a fitting nod to the band’s hardcore and crossover roots, rounding things off with a short, sharp reminder of the music that helped shape their sound.
Now, is Fatal Paradox revolutionary? Absolutely not.
Does it reinvent hardcore? Not even slightly.
Does it need to? Not a bloody chance.
The thing about Hatebreed is that they’ve never pretended to be anything other than what they are. They aren’t chasing trends, desperately trying to appeal to a younger audience or experimenting with electronic dance music because somebody at the record label thinks it might be commercially beneficial.
They’re Hatebreed. They play Hatebreed music. And they’re exceptionally bloody good at it.
The production, courtesy of longtime collaborator Chris ‘Zeuss’ Harris, is suitably enormous, allowing the guitars to punch through with devastating force while the drums and bass provide the sort of low-end thump that could probably loosen the fillings in your teeth.
There is, admittedly, a degree of familiarity running through the record. Certain riffs and breakdowns sound like old friends returning for another round, and anyone looking for groundbreaking musical experimentation might find themselves wanting a little more variety.
But complaining that a Hatebreed album sounds like Hatebreed is rather like complaining that your pint tastes of beer.
You knew what you were ordering.
And after six years away from releasing studio albums, it’s genuinely refreshing to hear a band sounding this focused, determined and downright furious. Fatal Paradox doesn’t feel like a group of ageing musicians going through the motions. It sounds like a band who still have something to prove, even though their place in hardcore history was secured decades ago.
I met the guys in France earlier this year at Hellfest, and they certainly hadn’t lost any of their enthusiasm when talking about what the future held for the band.
Thirty-plus years into their career, Hatebreed remain one of the most dependable heavy bands on the planet. They’ve weathered line-up changes, personal challenges and an ever-changing musical landscape, yet their fundamental message remains intact: stand your ground, fight through adversity and never let the bastards grind you down.
And preferably do it while somebody plays an absolutely enormous guitar riff behind you.
So crank up the volume, move anything breakable out of the living room and make sure your neighbours have adequate home insurance.
Hatebreed are back.
And they’re still absolutely bloody furious.
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