Nylon – Single Shot (2026) - REVIEW BY @JDPROSHO

Nylon – Single Shot EP

Single Shot by Rhapsody favourite Sheffield Stormtroopers Nylon is exactly what it sounds like: fast, filthy, and fired straight from the wrist with no regard for recoil. It’s four tracks of pure Steel City chaos, an audio bruise that reminds you why Nylon are at the top of the Uk Hardcore tree.

Since their 2024 acclaimed Chariot of the Gods, Nylon have spent basically all of 2025 doing the touring equivalent of a triathlon — sprinting between cities, festivals and any space that will have them, including a couple of shows up in Teesside. Single Shot feels like a postcard from that road‑worn mission: battered, grimy, and absolutely vibrating with the adrenaline of dozens of shows’ worth of crowd‑kill energy.

Single Shot doesn’t waste time — or even acknowledge the idea of time. From the first snare crack, Nylon come in swinging like they’re trying to shake the rafters of whatever building you’re listening in. Their signature cocktail of brutish punk aggression and chugging, hardcore breakdowns remains fully intact, only now it’s been marinated in endless tour miles and shows a band shaped by their experiences out on the road.

The guitars scrape and grind with that classic UKHC grit — like a rusted buzzsaw held together with duct tape. The rhythm section sounds one minor inconvenience away from full structural collapse, what’s interesting about Single Shot, though, is the subtle shift beneath the carnage. Nylon are letting melody seep into the cracks of their sound — not via any singalong hooks, but in the sense that something more expansive is bubbling under the surface of the chaos.

If this EP is a pulse check on where they’re heading for 2026, the outlook is wild: bigger ideas, bigger swings, and possibly the most melodic direction they’ve attempted yet. Just South Yorkshire hardcore at its rowdiest, and a warning shot for what they’ve got cooking over the next year.

Eight minutes. Four tracks. Zero pretension.

Written by @jdprosho

Indigo Ice – No Closure (2026) - REVIEW BY @JDPROSHO

Indigo Ice – No Closure

Indigo Ice’s new offering No Closure arrives like a steel‑toed boot to the temple; it’s seven tracks of mathcore‑meets‑deathcore chaos.

A kind of sonic panic attack that acts as a phenomenal follow up to their 2023 record Phantom Limb which flirted with the established rules of the genre, whilst No Closure is the moment the band snaps those rules over their knee. This is Indigo Ice doubling down on their own identity — less mimicry, more mutation.

It’s still recognizably mathcore, yes, but now it feels like they’ve redrawn the blueprint in their own image entirely.

The first thing that hits you is the drumming — Spencer Brown’s fast, pounding, borderline‑cardiac rhythms form the backbone of the album. His kit might as well be a tectonic plate, everything else violently shifting around it. Each blast beat sounds like it’s trying to escape its body.

Then there’s Cliff Aubut, who doesn’t so much provide vocals as he does exorcise whatever demons lay deep within. His screeches and guttural screams feel physically unsafe, like they were recorded in violation of several workplace safety regulations.

Hovering above and occasionally detonating beneath everything is Mike James, whose multi‑instrumental contributions feel like he’s speed‑running a lifetime of musical training in real time. He shifts between twiddly intricacy and blunt‑force deathcore with the confidence of someone who has nothing left to prove and no concerns about whether your speakers survive.

“Death Diva” is the show-stealer — a writhing, concussive onslaught that grabs your nervous system by the shoulders and screams directly into its face. 

“Progenial Martyrdom” and “Your Celestial Drift” are other stand out tracks with heavy breakdowns and enough traditional hardcore DNA to satisfy the old heads looking for something familiar to lose themselves in. These tracks keep the record tethered to the genre’s roots, even as Indigo Ice gleefully shreds the rulebook.

No Closure is a short, savage, deeply considered assault that will satisfy fans of Car Bomb and Johnny Booth equally. It marks Indigo Ice not just as mathcore disciples but as innovators ready to carve their own serrated path forward.

Written by @jdprosho

Phasma – Purgatory (2026) - REVIEW BY @JDPROSHO

 Phasma – Purgatory

Greek deathcore group Phasma’s new offering ‘Purgatory’ is easily their most hostile, dissonant, and deranged work to date — a record that feels less like a collection of songs and more like a psychological event.

Phasma have never been subtle, but Purgatory makes their earlier material sound almost polite by comparison. This is a violent reimagining of their sound: darker, dingier, and saturated with the kind of chaotic songwriting, the guitars no longer riff as much as they grind, scrape, and collapse into each other. The vocals sound like they’re coming from someone who has lived in the walls of an abandoned building for several months. Everything is detuned, decaying, and deliberately uncomfortable.

This is deathcore, yes — but only technically. Purgatory is less concerned with genre allegiance and more focused on how many different sonic encounters it can cram into a single release. There are breakdowns, but they’re warped and contorted, landing like steel beams dropped from a great height. There are blast beats, but they disintegrate into black‑metal tremolos, industrial noise, and sludge‑soaked grooves. It’s pure genre‑melding chaos.

What makes it compelling rather than just punishing is the sense of intention beneath the madness. Phasma aren’t so much throwing paint at the wall — they’re meticulously arranging their sonic debris into something that feels ritualistic. Nothing on Purgatory is clean. The production is smeared and grimy, the edges intentionally frayed, like the mix itself is decomposing. But the clarity comes through in the choices: the sudden drops, the jagged transitions, the moments where they let silence hang just long enough for your pulse to spike before launching back into violence.

Lyrically, the themes match the music: desolation, spiritual rot, internal purging, the slow collapse of the self under pressure. Even at its most atmospheric, Purgatory feels like it’s trying to drag you somewhere you don’t want to go.

Where many deathcore bands polish their brutality into something digestible, Phasma refuse that path entirely. Purgatory is rough, uncomfortable, and genuinely unsettling — and that’s the point.

For fans of extreme music, Purgatory is a reminder that chaos, when done right, is its own kind of beauty. It’s a record that doesn’t ask for your attention so much as demand it, grab it by the throat, and hold it against a wall until the final seconds fade out.

Written by @jdprosho

King Street – Parting Shots (2026) - REVIEW BY @JDPROSHO

 King Street – Parting Shots (2026)

London hardcore has been experiencing one of its periodic explosions—new venues, new faces, new bands insisting they’re the next great export. 

But even in a scene this crowded, King Street have always had an aura of inevitability. The capital’s long‑running beatdown specialists have earned a reputation for weaponizing chaos, turning every show into a controlled demolition. And yet on Parting Shots, their new six‑track EP and first release since 2024’s full‑length War Scrolls, they manage something few veteran bands ever do: meaningful evolution without losing any of the fight.

King Street have always been heavy but this record is different. The aggression is still there, thick and unavoidable, but the delivery is noticeably more refined. Parting Shots feels structured, intentional, even strategic. There are riffs everywhere but they’re organised this time rather than flung at your head all at once. It’s the band’s most self‑assured release so far, and the moment where they stop being “one of London’s hardest bands” and become one of its most important.

The EP’s identity is inseparable from the city that shaped it. London hangs over these tracks like smog over the Thames. The themes—generational struggle, political hostility, fractured families, the slow grind of trying to find meaning in a place that takes more than it gives—are all pulled straight from lived experience. Hardcore bands often claim authenticity; King Street don’t have to claim anything. It’s baked into every section, every barked lyric, every groove.

Even the artwork reinforces the point. The EP’s demonic, frenzied visual identity, created by iamanartistyouknow, looks like something found spray‑painted on a derelict South London underpass. It matches the music’s tone: raw, urban, and unsettling in a way that feels earnestly local rather than curated for international cool.

The production deserves special recognition. Engineered at Persepolis Studios in Chelmsford by bassist Matt Darby, the EP sounds like a live show trapped inside a studio—tight enough to highlight the band’s evolution but volatile enough to still feel dangerous. King Street’s gigs have always been a spectacle of bodies and noise and Parting Shots captures that energy unnervingly well. It moves fast, it hits hard, and it doesn’t waste time.

Their résumé includes sharing stages with hardcore pillars like Terror and Madball—acts whose influence is still audible but no longer overpowering. King Street aren’t imitating anyone anymore. They’re writing with the confidence of a band that understands its own mythology and is ready to build on it.

Across its six tracks, Parting Shots positions King Street as a defining presence in an increasingly competitive London hardcore scene. It’s the sound of a band that knows its strengths, confronts its weaknesses, and emerges sharper, heavier, and more purposeful.

 

Written by @jdprosho

Without Love – Diminishing Returns (2026) - REVIEW BY @JDPROSHO

Without Love – Diminishing Returns (2026)

Diminishing Returns, the new 17‑minute blast from Yorkshire‑rooted hardcore collective Without Love, is sharp, tightly‑wound, and somehow still scrappier than half the bands trying twice as hard.

Clocking in at eight tracks, the record barely gives you time to get your balance before ripping it away again. It’s the band’s first release since signing to US hardcore institution Indecision Records, and you can hear the shift immediately — not in a compromising way, but the sound is cleaner, tighter, more deliberately shaped. Yet the same grit that’s made them a staple of modern British hardcore still bleeds through.

Lyrically, Diminishing Returns hits the familiar emotional trinity that fuels most great hardcore: frustration, resilience, and the kind of community‑minded collectivism that can only be born from years of criss‑crossing the continent playing all manner of towns and venues. There’s anger here, sure, but it’s not nihilistic. It’s the kind of anger that wants the scene to be better, not burn it down.

The standout moments arrive fast and frantic. “The Forever War” is the band at their most feral - it’s got the speed‑run urgency of Youth of Today and the melodic bounce of Gorilla Biscuits, which is fitting considering Without Love will be sharing UK stages with GB soon.

Then there’s the more anthemic “With Hands Tied,”. It leans heavier, a little darker, flirting with emo in the way early Have Heart could without ever compromising intensity.

Fans of Bane, early Comeback Kid, and more melodic hardcore which blends emotional honesty and two‑step‑ready riffs will feel right at home here. The record never overstays its welcome, but it also never feels rushed. That’s particularly impressive considering Without Love’s history of short, chaotic releases including their 2021 split EP release with hardcore stalwarts Time Heist.

The production is the unsung hero here. It’s crisp enough to showcase the band’s increasingly mature songwriting, but raw enough to feel like it was recorded in a room with condensation dripping from the ceiling.

Diminishing Returns might be short, but it’s the most fully-realized thing Without Love have ever released. It’s a reminder that modern British hardcore doesn’t need to mimic its American influences to be world‑class — but when it draws from them, it can go toe‑to‑toe with the best. It’s urgent, memorable, and quietly massive.

Written by @jdprosho

 Rhapsody Records All Dayer Review

A Properly Chaotic Day in the Pit: Hardcore Takes Over Play, Middlesbrough

There are worse ways to spend a Saturday in Middlesbrough than being systematically flattened by a dozen‑plus hardcore bands in a brewery. Play, a fantastic ‘jewel-in-Middlesbrough’s-crown’ venue usually home to craft IPAs and pop culture‑adjacent quizzes, transforms into a sweat‑slicked pressure cooker as Teesside’s hardcore faithful descend for an all‑day festival that’s less “gig” and more “spiritual cleansing by violence.”

From the moment doors open, the room fills like a tinderbox. The crowd isn’t just here. The crowd is ready — caffeinated, cartilage‑loose, and spiritually aligned with the sacred art of swinging fists at strangers who will apologise after.

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DISARMED:

Disarmed open up proceedings to an already sizeable crowd. They’re still technically “early career,” but Middlesbrough has already adopted them with the kind of feral loyalty usually reserved for the football club and parmos.

“Price to Pay” spits pure venom, a punch‑drunk takedown of the world’s current nonsense, and before anyone has time to blink, the Terror cover (“Keepers of the Faith”) detonates the first proper pit of the afternoon. A few punters wrench the mic from vocalist Jack’s hands and fill the air with a guttural reverb and sparks limbs to strike out at all around — and it’s perfect.

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SECONDS OUT:

Seconds Out fight through early‑afternoon energy like they’re trying to wake the undead. It works — the queue for loaded fries evaporates as people stumble back inside for something heavier than carbs. More sludgy than speedy, more scowl than sprint, the Newcastle upstarts warm into their set and eventually coax the first crowd‑wide “FUCK ICE” chant, which feels exactly right for 2pm in a former brewery.

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NOTHING PURE REMAINS:

Rebrand? What rebrand? NPR (formerly RICO) launch their “new era” by exploding all over the stage like they’ve been starved of oxygen. Frontman Jo swings between crowd‑embracing messiah and human wrecking ball, baptising the faithful in sweat and chaos. If this is their rebirth, the aftershocks are just beginning.

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FLIPSIDE:

Flipside step up like they own the joint. Fast, fun, feral — the Middlesbrough stalwarts sprint through their set with the kind of chaotic sincerity you can’t fake. James snarls, the band thrashes, and the whole room gets a reminder of hardcore’s only real rule: no gatekeeping, no bullshit — just turn up and mean it.

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EMANCIPATION:

Emancipation have travelled farther than anyone else so far, and the crowd is quick to show their appreciation to the boys from the East Midlands. Their blend of doom‑tinged breakdowns, metalcore muscle, and atmospheric dips gives Play its first taste of full‑body heaviness. When the floor opens up, it feels less like moshing and more like being swallowed whole.

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AGGRIEVED:

Then it’s time for heartbreak.

Aggrieved — bona fide TSHC legends — take the stage for one last dance. It’s emotional, it’s chaotic, and mid‑set, someone brings out pizza like it’s communion. People rip the mic out of Jack’s hands and scream the lyrics back like their lives depend on it. Thi set probably shaved five years off everyone’s lifespan. If you’re gonna go out, go out swinging.

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PROZPEKT:

Most bands would crumble following a farewell set. Prozpekt are not “most bands.” They’re the gravitational centre of Teesside hardcore, and when Cal Leach stalks the stage, the room collectively straightens up like schoolkids caught messing around.

Tracks like “Brain Constraint” and “Tees Valley” hit like precision‑guided spin‑kicks to the chest as the floor turns into a full‑scale battleground. Leach conducts the room like he’s been ordained by the Pit Gods. If hardcore ever needed a mayor, he’d win by landslide.

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MAELSTROM:

South Wales’ Maelstrom bring a set polished sharp from constant touring — tight, furious, and engineered to make strangers punch each other lovingly. Beatdowns drop like concrete blocks. Bodies fly. The walls shake. Play is one step away from declaring structural damage.

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HUMAN DECEIT:

Human Deceit arrive with the intense energy that has followed them around in recent times and marked them out as torch bearers for UKHC. Frontman Matt stalks the room, screaming like he’s settling personal scores with each individual audience member. Teesside eats it up. The pit responds in kind. Middlesbrough may have a new favourite band.

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TEST OF PATIENCE:

It’s their first time in TS1, but Glasgow’s Test of Patience act like they’ve been coming here for years. Frontwoman Gem snarls her way through a set that radiates purpose and absolute fury. There’s something cathartic in the air — a sense of communal exorcism. The applause when they finish is thunderous. This better not be their last visit.

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LOST TO LIFE:

Lost to Life proudly announce they’re the first Irish hardcore band ever to step foot in Middlesbrough. True or not, the crowd happily two‑steps themselves into oblivion to celebrate. Fast, punk‑tinged, and dangerously catchy, they nearly shake the paint off the walls.

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OVERPOWER:

As the day teeters into its ninth hour, Overpower hit like defibrillator paddles. Sharp, technical, ferocious — their fusion of thrash and hardcore is the adrenaline shot the room needs. Matt Howson storms around in his chainmail headpiece like he’s preparing for war, while the dual‑guitar assault from Lewis and Casey feels illegally good.

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LIFESICK:

Lifesick close the night out with a set that’s heavier than the emotional baggage everyone’s carrying from the Aggrieved goodbye. The Danish bruisers tear through material from Loved By None, Hated By All, flattening what’s left of the crowd with ruthless breakdowns and pit‑summoning riffs. Nicolai leads with total command, preaching unity, community, and catharsis — the same values that held this entire day together.

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By the time the lights come up, Play smells like sweat, spilled lager, and collective liberation. Teesside Hardcore didn’t just show up today — it showed off: its heart, its chaos, its community.

No egos. No gatekeeping. Just family.

FTHxBTH

Show review by : James Prosho @jdprosho

Regress S/T (2026) - REVIEW BY @JDPROSHO

 Regress – Self-Titled EP (2026)

London’s hardcore underground has always been a pressure cooker and the latest bright upstarts Regress have just ripped the lid clean off with their self-titled debut EP on Rucktion Records. Mixed and mastered by Lucas Kilpatrick, this 5 track EP record is hostile and an absolutely relentless 15-minute offering from our capital’s underbelly.

Regress proudly fly the power violence beatdown flag, but don’t mistake that for simplicity. The guitars weave between jagged riffs and tectonic chugs, while the drums oscillate from calculated menace to full-on blitzkrieg. Vocals from Marcy Turner are guttural battle cries, spat like shrapnel straight from the diaphragm of someone who’s seen too much and wants you to feel every ounce of it.

Standouts? Until the End and Soaked in Betrayal are sonic rollercoasters—violent, unpredictable, and offering zero respite. They don’t just hit hard; they hit deep, rattling your ribcage and pounding your chest. This isn’t background music. It’s a full-body experience, the kind that leaves you sweaty, bruised, and craving more.

Regress make noise—ugly, beautiful, cathartic noise. And if this EP is any indication, London’s hardcore scene just got a new mouthpiece.

Catch Regress on a couple dates with the dawgs in False Reality and Overpower throughout April. 

9/4/26 - London
12/4/26 - Manchester

Written by @jdprosho

SIDEWINDER, KING ABYSS, LAST WITNESS @ CAFE ETCH DEC '25 , SHOW REVIEW BY JD PROSHO

Mad Friday Mayhem: Teesside Hardcore Turns Café Etch Into a Warzone

Café Etch is slowly morphing into Teesside’s unofficial hardcore embassy. Tonight, it’s hosting the year-end blowout for Rhapsody Records, and the timing couldn’t be more chaotic: the last Friday before Christmas Eve—known in the UK as Mad Friday or, if you’re feeling spicy, Black Eye Friday. Originally NHS and Police jargon for “the night everyone gets obliterated,” it’s now a cultural institution: the final knees-up before festive purgatory. Translation? Middlesbrough’s hardcore kids have one last chance to throw themselves around a 60-cap room like it owes them money.

Hartlepudlian debutants Final Witness pick tonight for their swansong, and honestly, they couldn’t have scripted it better. Early nerves? Sure. But once they lock in, Café Etch gets its first wall of noise—and it’s glorious. Think Municipal Waste thrash colliding head-on with Obituary-style death grooves, snarling vocals riding shotgun. For a band barely old enough to rent a van for the short journey south on the A19, their setlist feels seasoned: heads bang, limbs flail, and Middlesbrough suddenly has four new best friends. Bookmark this name—they’re going places.

Derbyshire’s deathcore veterans King Abyss hit the stage like they’re settling scores. Tracks like Fear the Dead don’t just shake the room—they threaten structural integrity. The pit? A demolition derby. Vocalist Dom stalks the floor like a man possessed, while guitarists Sam and Harry flex technical wizardry on Weapons of Mass Delusion, a track that swings between chugging brutality and fretboard acrobatics. By the time Eyes Always Watching closes, the crowd looks like they’ve been through a small war—and loved every second.

Headliners Sidewinder don’t waste time with pleasantries. Their opening mantra— “Respect the venue, don’t respect each other”—lands like gospel, and the crowd obeys with WWE-level aerial assaults. Leeds’ hardcore export delivers a set so fast and feral you barely have time to breathe. Between sci-fi nods (Starship Troopers, Gears of War) and communal whiskey swigs passed around like sacrament, this feels less like a gig and more like a church service. Damo, their preacher-in-chief, screams sermons of rage and release into the faces of his gathered flock, while Incarcerated—an anthem for anyone shackled to a soul-sucking job—hits extra hard on Mad Friday. Responsibilities? That’s January’s problem.

As the last chord rings and the whiskey bottle empties, Teesside spills into the night—some with bruises, some with literal missing teeth, all with stories. Café Etch didn’t just host a gig tonight; it hosted a riot disguised as a Christmas party. Happy Fucking Holidays.

Full Sidewinder set available below : 

Show review by : James Prosho @jdprosho

Paleface Swiss - The wilted EP (2026) REVIEW BY @JDPROSHO

Paleface Swiss - The wilted EP (2026)

When Paleface Swiss emerged back in 2017, their sound was pure, unfiltered beatdown chaos: raw aggression, blunt-force riffs, and breakdowns that felt like a crowbar to the temple. But The Wilted, a brand-new EP from the Swiss noise merchants, is a different animal.

Not softer but smarter, sharper, and riding the same modern metalcore wave that’s been dominating playlists without losing the street-level menace that made them infamous.

This EP feels like the band finally decided to hone their craft. There’s melody here, the production is polished without sanding down the serrated edges, and the song writing flexes a confidence that says: “We know exactly who we are, and we’re not afraid to evolve.”

Tracks hit like a hybrid of beatdown brutality and metalcore sophistication—think surgical breakdowns stitched together with atmospheric tension. It’s the sound of a band refusing to drown in an oversaturated scene, carving out their own space with riffs that still swing like a wrecking ball but now come with a more sophisticated blueprint of the direction they want to head in.

Paleface Swiss aren’t abandoning their roots; they’re fertilizing them with something darker, more calculated. In a genre where everyone’s screaming (literally) for attention, these guys are making sure you hear them above the noise. Ones to watch? Absolutely.

Catch Paleface on tour across Europe with Stick to your guns and Statis Dress. In early Jan through to February : 

Written by @jdprosho

Nuclear Venom – Poisoning the Minds (2026) REVIEW BY @JDPROSHO

Nuclear Venom – Poisoning the Minds (2026) 

There’s a particular joy to crossover thrash when it stops pretending to be high art and just goes—the kind of joy that smells like stale beer, hot amps, and a circle pit that forms before the first snare hit. 

On Poisoning the Minds, Polish thrash/crossover upstarts Nuclear Venom channel that joy with almost weaponized efficiency. It’s a really fun record—emphasis on fun—that blends the speed and whiplash riffing of classic thrash with the tar‑thick churn of sludgy hardcore. The drums sprint, the guitars screech, and the vocals sound like they’ve been left out in the radioactive rain.

If your playlists run from Municipal Waste’s beer‑splash blitz to the serrated crossover punch of Manic Aggression, this EP sits right in that sweet spot: fast, filthy, and ferocious. Nuclear Venom never forget that extremity is entertainment, and they lean into it with the kind of energy that’ll have you price‑checking elbow pads before the second chorus.

The production is perhaps a bit raw at times, with guitars that scrape and squeal before dropping into sludge-laced chugs that feel like you’re wading through concrete and vocals that may be difficult for purists to hurdle over, but this isn’t a record for them - plenty of bands can varnish and fine tune their sound but not all of them are able to convey the fun they’re having making music. Nuclear Venom bake humor into menace without undercutting the heft. 

Poisoning the Minds is the sound of a band who understand that extremity and enjoyment are not opposites—they’re accomplices. It’s fast, filthy, and fun, a blast of crossover thrash that drags through sludge just long enough to make the next sprint feel like lift‑off. Short playtime, zero filler, maximum repayment. 

Ones to add to your radar immediately. And maybe to your health insurance.

Written by @jdprosho

JAWLESS, CLOBBER, NYLON, DISARMED , SHOW REVIEW BY JD PROSHO

Hardcore in TS1: A Night of Frostbite, Two-Steps, and Chaos

The last time I hit Café Etch, I was helping my kid demolish carrot sticks and hummus while hiding from a biblical downpour. Tonight, I’m back—still sheltering, but this time from a North East winter that feels like it’s trying to kill me. There’s less Vitamin A and way more aggression in the air.

First up, on a night so cold it could freeze your soul, Newcastle’s Disarmed take the stage for their swansong. Made up of faces familiar to the North East hardcore scene, these debutants waste zero time warming up the already packed room—literally and figuratively. For a first show, they play like seasoned pros. Frontman Jack Anderton owns the space like he was born for it. Their set swings between covers and fresh cuts, with tracks like Price to Pay spitting venom at the state of the world and firing up the crowd before closer Truth Decay detonates the room. Disarmed might be new blood, but they’re already dangerous.

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From rookies to royalty: Sheffield’s NYLON roll in like Steel City stormtroopers on their third visit to Boro. They bring a set stacked with old favourites and new bangers, reminding everyone why they’re perched at the top of UK hardcore’s food chain. Wind Your Neck In and Cuttlefish & Asparagus—both off last year’s killer LP Chariot of the Gods—shake the brickwork and spark the first circle pits of the night. It’s anarchy, and it’s glorious.

Then it’s time for the South to show its teeth. London’s Clobber hit the stage in what’s probably the smallest room they’ll play for a while, so everyone here should feel smug about witnessing this up close. Fresh off a European rampage and a slot at Revolution Calling fest, they waste no time necking Red Stripes, roasting the crowd, and unleashing a cocktail of Cockney swagger and two-stepping melodic hardcore. Frontman Charlie Longman stalks the floor like a man possessed, personally injecting life into every body in the pit. Their set is fast, furious, and fun—but also sharp and political, reminding us that hardcore, like the country, works best when we smash division. They want their country back too—just not for the flag-waving brigade. The climax? A feral cover of Cro-Mags’ Hard Times featuring a cameo from Jawless frontwoman Theresa Vendetta. Bonus weirdness: a mid-set kick drum failure sparks an impromptu 2016 internet phenomenon ‘Mannequin Challenge’ throwback, freezing the pit in mid-battle stance before all hell resumes.

Finally, the headliners: Jawless. Technical gremlins try to derail them early, but they bulldoze through, proving why they’re revered in UK hardcore and why legends like Agnostic Front and Cro-Mags have invited them on tour. With members hailing from Spain, Mexico, and Poland but calling London home, Jawless rip through a set dripping in thrash and skate-punk energy. Theresa Vendetta is a whirlwind—spitting stories about dumping a partner for not skating and flipping off London’s finest in blue. Jawless are unapologetically fast, loud, and essential.

Normally, I’d avoid the gender angle—it’s lazy and hacky—but Theresa deserves props for calling all the women in the room to the front, carving out a safe space in the pit. It’s something I’ve seen more and more at hardcore shows, and it rules. This scene is for everyone. Long may that continue.

Photo credit : Callum Leach

Show review by : James Prosho @jdprosho

Bore – Feral (2025) REVIEW BY @JDPROSHO

Bore – Feral (2025) 

Long Island Hardcore Hybrids unleash Album of The Year contender that feels like the World’s Final Scream

Long Island, NY’s Bore release their debut full-length Feral, out now via Silent Pendulum Records into the world at a time when this brand of ferocious and emotional honesty is most needed. These are indeed desperate times and we need loud, unashamed voices calling out how fucked up things are around us to help navigate these hellish shoals.

Feral, produced by Adam Cichocki at Timber Studios, is the sound of a band that’s been sharpening its teeth since 2018 blending hardcore punk, mathcore precision, and metal riffs so heavy they could crack concrete. It’s not just aggressive—it’s calculated violence.

The album’s title isn’t metaphorical. It’s a diagnosis. Bore sees the world as primal, animalistic, and ferocious—and Feral is their sonic autopsy. Tracks like “Hopeless Poet” and “Deadbed” don’t just rage; they reflect. There’s no overt political messaging here, but the apathy, the rot, the slow collapse of belief systems? It’s all there, snarling beneath the surface.

Vocals emanating from Branden Gallagher are less sung and more exorcised. Guitarist Danny Kopij and bassist Sid Valiquette weave riffs that shatter your core, while drummer Matt McAteer drives it all with the subtlety of a brick.

It’s short, brutal, and leaves you feeling like you’ve survived something. Feral doesn’t ask for your attention—it grabs it by the throat and doesn’t let go. In a world that’s gone feral, Bore might just be the soundtrack we deserve.

Written by @jdprosho

GOING OFF - KILL LIST II (2025) REVIEW BY @JDPROSHO

Going Off – Kill List II (2025)

Manchester’s Beatdown Bruisers find their tender yet visceral greatness to round off Spooky Season.

Manchester’s Going Off have never been ones to play nice. Their 2024 record Die Fast was a feral, teeth-bared sprint through hardcore punk’s nastiest alleyways. But Kill List II, clocking in at a lean 11 minutes, is something else entirely: a snarling, emotionally raw evolution that doesn’t just punch—it bruises, bleeds, and occasionally, hugs.

From the first chug of guitar, it’s clear the band haven’t lost their taste for beatdown brutality. But there’s a new texture, a kind of wounded clarity that cuts through the distortion. Vocalist Huxley, known for his guttural bark, now sounds like he’s screaming from the edge of a breakdown rather than just the pit. It’s still confrontational, still visceral—but there’s vulnerability in the venom. A middle finger, sure, but this time with a more polished nail.

Tracks like “Soft Target” and “Dead Air” showcase this duality best: the riffs are pure concrete, but the lyrics hint at something deeper—regret, reflection, even tenderness. It’s hardcore with a heart, and it hits harder because of it.

The band’s cheeky punk ethos hasn’t vanished either. There are still moments of sardonic humour and chaotic energy, but they’re tempered by a sense of purpose. Kill List II feels like a band growing up without growing soft—a rare feat in a genre that often equates maturity with compromise.

Released DIY, the album is a testament to Going Off’s commitment to doing things their way. It’s short, sharp, and emotionally devastating. Hardcore punk rarely sounds this human.

For fans of: Bareknuckle, Slow Burn

Written by @jdprosho

REGRETS - XL (2025) REVIEW BY @JDPROSHO

Regrets – XL (2025)

London’s Hardcore Chaos Merchants Deliver a 16-Minute Blitz of Fury and Funk

If you’ve ever wondered what it sounds like when a band captures the energy of a mosh pit inside a Morley’s Chicken shop, wonder no more. Regrets, the London-based hardcore punk trio, have finally dropped their debut album XL—11 tracks, 16 minutes, and zero apologies. It’s a sonic riot that feels like being thrown down a flight of stairs.

Regrets have been teasing chaos for years with a string of singles and a reputation for live shows that feel more like controlled demolition. With XL, they’ve bottled that energy and smashed it against the wall. Think Trapped Under Ice meets Trash Talk, with the rawness of Static Vision and the early-day swagger of Turnstile and Knocked Loose.

The album opens with “Tequila,” a track that starts with a salsa-flavored intro before detonating into a two-step beatdown. It’s a bait-and-switch that sets the tone for the rest of the album.

“Suck It Up,” the lead single, is a standout. With a bass-and-drum intro that kicks the door in, it’s a cathartic anthem for anyone drowning in daily stress. The lyrics are bleak, but the delivery is euphoric.

Tracks like “9ine to 5ive” and “Out of Control” dive into themes of addiction, burnout, and existential dread, but never lose the groove. Guitarist Greg’s rapid-fire riffs are punky, punchy, and perfectly paired with Dylan’s piercing vocal delivery—a voice that sounds like it was forged in a back alley argument.

“XL,” the title track, is pure London hardcore theatre. The music video—filmed inside a Morley’s Chicken on Brick Lane—is already legendary, capturing the band’s chaotic spirit in a setting that’s as greasy and iconic as their sound.

For fans of: Trapped Under Ice, Trash Talk, Static Vision,

Written by @jdprosho

PLUTO'S KISS - S/T (2025) REVIEW BY @JDPROSHO

Pluto’s Kiss – Pluto’s Kiss (2025)

Detroit’s DIY Hardcore Sweethearts Deliver a 12-Minute Blast of Melody, and Mayhem

Some bands take years to find their voice. Pluto’s Kiss found theirs in a summer. Formed in Toronto in 2024, the melodic hardcore punk outfit dropped a five-track demo (5 Songs) that immediately turned heads. Now, with their self-titled debut—ten songs in twelve minutes—they’ve cemented themselves as one of the most exciting new voices in DIY punk.

Released on Total Supply Records, Pluto’s Kiss is a whirlwind of melodic hooks, shouted choruses, and raw emotional energy. It’s fast, it’s catchy, and it’s got just enough grit to remind you it came from basements, not boardrooms.

The album both channels the urgent intensity of CIV and the ferocity of other NYHC bands on tracks such as “Piggybank!” whilst tracks like “Hard Serenade” and “Never Learn” showcase the band’s knack for balancing melody with aggression, more in tune with some of the bands exploding into the mainstream right now.

There’s a clear nod to Boston’s hardcore legacy, but it’s filtered through Toronto's resilience.

Recorded over a couple of weeks in bedrooms, garages, and practice spaces, this is a true DIY record.

For fans of: Home Invasion, Step by Step, TS Warspite, and Stand Tall

Written by @jdprosho