Agnostic Front: The American Dream Died

AGNOSTIC FRONT: THE AMERICAN DREAM DIED (2015)

1) Intro; 2) The American Dream Died; 3) Police Violence; 4) Only In America; 5) Test Of Time; 6) We Walk The Line; 7) Never Walk Alone; 8) Enough Is Enough; 9) I Can't Relate; 10) Old New York; 11) Social Justice; 12) Reasonable Doubt; 13) No War Fuck You; 14) Attack!; 15) A Wise Man; 16) Just Like Yesterday.

Yes, in case you weren't aware, the American dream just died, but you probably wouldn't believe this anyway unless you were told about this by someone who sounds exactly like a 300-pound Neanderthal who just sat down with his bare ass on a hornets nest. In other words, yes, ten years after the fact, Roger Miret still shows no signs of getting weary from his Another Voice — may­be the idea is that in a few decades we will finally get used to it, and once that happens, Agnostic Front will finally get a chance to rule the world. All you have to do is be tenacious.

I do respect that attitude, but I think that I respect the idea of keeping it short (this record barely goes over 27 minutes) even more. If I understand this right, the album once again moves away from metal and towards the good old hardcore — not just because of the song lengths (several of these are well under one minute in duration), but also due to another lineup shift, with Craig Sil­verman replacing Joseph James on second guitar and the music embracing «noise» and «grind» over relatively complex metal riffs or solos. What with all the nostalgia and everything,  they may think they are channelling the spirit of Victim In Pain here. But not with that «gorilla in heat» voice they aren't, never in a million years.

As usual, there are no problems with the overall energy level or the conviction with which the testosteronic riffs and the anti-establishment lyrics are delivered. Just as usual, there is nothing whatsoever worth discussing in the melody department, and the «gimmicks» this time around con­sist of a two-minute intro with police sirens and news flashes on the crimes of and ruptures within the evil capitalist system, and of a brief quotation from Taxi Driver at the beginning of ʽOld New Yorkʼ, in which Miret complains about "the Bowery slums turned into fashion bou­tiques" and the lack of drug dealers and freaks on the street. Uh... okay. I'm not sure I really want to comment on that particular attitude.

Other than this brief piece of information, all you really need to do is to look closely at the song titles — then understand for yourself whether you may or may not need this in your life (depen­ding, among other things, on whether you have «occupation of Wall Street» coming up on your calendar any time soon). The best I can do is not give the album a thumbs down — because, somehow, I am marginally impressed at how those old punkers seem to draw even more energy out of their frustration at growing old (and irrelevant) than they used to. I mean, the music is shit in any case, but as they get older, they learn to fling it with increased force and accuracy, even if nobody seems to care any more. Besides, it's not as if a whole lot of young artists these days cared much singing about social problems — so, perhaps, there is still some niche space left for the good old hardcore warriors.

Agnostic Front: My Life My Way

AGNOSTIC FRONT: MY LIFE MY WAY (2011)

1) City Streets; 2) More Than A Memory; 3) Us Against The World; 4) My Life My Way; 5) That's Life; 6) Self Pride; 7) Until The Day I Die; 8) Now And Forever; 9) The Sacrifice; 10) A Mi Manera; 11) Your Worst Enemy; 12) Em­p­ty Dreams; 13) Time Has Come.

Over the first three or four songs on this record, my nose seemed to smell out a bit more «vocal harmonies» and «catchy choruses» than on Warriors, so, for about five minutes, I was sort of en­tertaining the thoughts that, perhaps, this would be an attempt at fusing together the band's hope­less «crossover» thing with the old pure-hardcore schtick that worked so much better on Dead Yuppies. That way, I could at least feebly recommend the album, be done with it, and get on with life's more precious chores.

Alas, pretty soon it turned out that I was completely wrong. Joseph James is still in the band, and the overall sound is almost exactly the same as it was on Warriors. The album blurb on their of­ficial record label, Nuclear Blast, proudly states that "...the title of their tenth studio album “My Life My Way” underlines perfectly what Hardcore means to Stigma and his bandmates: It’s not just music, it’s an attitude to life!" They almost got it right — simply scrap that "just", and the motto will be word-perfect. (For the record, the same blurb states that Miret considers this to be "our catchiest record to date", so don't go complaining how I only present my opinion on all these albums and nobody else's. Now you know how the band's frontman sincerely feels about his la­test record. And he probably felt that way about the previous one, too, and the one before that, and each and every time he must have been completely sincere, and one cannot blame him).

In a brief news release, here is what they do on this album:

(a) first time ever (I think) sing in Spa­nish ('A Mi Manera'), to broaden their fanbase among illegal Mexican and Puerto Rican im­mi­grants, after a recent statistics poll has shown that these people are chiefly motivated to leave their families and risk their freedom and safety by the en­ticing opportunities to access indie record stores in L.A., N.Y.C., and other major metropolises;

(b) sing about themselves in the past tense ("It was us against the world... we fought to survive"), apparently, from out of the geriatric refuge of their rocking chairs, enlightening the younger ge­neration, who might otherwise erroneously suppose that it has always been Pink to fight aga­inst the world — too bad the nationwide coverage is so reluctant to pick that up;

(c) then suddenly declare that "TIME HAS COME... to show the world this revolution HAS BE­GUN" on the last track. Considering the timeline, I can only assume they are referring to the Arab Spring here, which makes me wonder why the song has not been explicitly dedicated to «our blood bro­thers and sisters in Libya and Egypt» (including The Society of The Muslim Brothers and other merry gentlemen who would gladly watch the N.Y.C. hardcore scene sink to the bot­tom of the ocean, along with the rest of N.Y.C.).

Actually, though, it's all in the line of work. You can close your eyes, forget all about the cultural and temporal con­text, and simply kick out the jams with these guys. If there is anything at all ad­mirable, it is how their stamina level never ever decreases through all these years — the only pos­sible motive that could drive me to still pick up their albums when they are in their seventies and eighties, and be happy to learn that the revolution never ever ceases to begin on each subsequent one. Which will hardly prevent each of these albums (unless they decide to drop the metal schtick once again, with Miret reverting to a normal kind of voice) from getting a thumbs down — this one is no exception.

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Agnostic Front: Warriors

AGNOSTIC FRONT: WARRIORS (2007)

1) Addiction; 2) Dead To Me; 3) Outraged; 4) Warriors; 5) Black And Blue; 6) Change Your Ways; 7) For My Fa­mi­ly; 8) No Regrets; 9) Revenge; 10) We Want The Truth; 11) By My Side; 12) Come Alive; 13) All These Years; 14) Forgive Me Mother; 15) Break The Chains.

Matt Henderson is out again, but the «metalcore» stuff is still in, nurtured by new guitarist Joseph James, whose playing is able to keep the band at a respectable level, but does not bring in any in­teresting individuality. They may have earned the right to call themselves «warriors», but, the way my ears perceive them, they still keep fighting in the 3rd Clone Division.

But this time around, they are also nostalgic clones. The single 'For My Family' does nothing if not tug at the feelings of the hardcore crowds around 1982, targeted at those few survivors who are still able to recall those days of hard drink, heavy sweat, grizzly tattoos, and pulsating hatred for The Oppressors with fondness rather than embarrassment. Musically, it is every bit as forget­table as everything else on here, but at least its silliness is somewhat touching — in a way, almost sentimental, with the appropriate correction as to what may constitute «sentiment» when we're talking Roger Miret and Vinnie Stigma.

Other than that, Miret's vocals are a little less rough this time. For Another Voice, he had made every effort to sing like a retarded piece of scum with serious larynx problems; on Warriors, he sounds like a retarded piece of scum who has just undergone successful clinical treatment for la­ryngitis. (To prevent libel suits, I am not insinuating or implying anything, merely laying out sub­jective impressions in the exact particular order that they are overflowing my mind). Unfortunate­ly, he still is not singing, screaming, or spitting out anything I'd ever like to hear again.

No change in musical values, either. No solos, no unexpected musical trickery, just textbook me­tallic riffage that may only sound enticing to those who believe that thrash metal was invented by Municipal Waste — or to those who piss their pants from happiness every time they hear a metal line, no matter how old, simple, or «hollow», flash past their senses at jet plane speed. Thumbs down for all that — and for the stupid album sleeve in particular. (I'm not saying I feel any hap­pier about all those Nazi-themed covers from yesteryears, though, but at least they were direct and intentional offenses against taste — Warriors-style imagery is simply cheap).

Agnostic Front: Another Voice

AGNOSTIC FRONT: ANOTHER VOICE (2004)

1) Still Here; 2) All Is Not Forgotten; 3) Fall Of The Parasite; 4) Pride, Faith, Respect; 5) So Pure To Me; 6) De­di­ca­tion; 7) Peace; 8) Take Me Back; 9) Hardcore! (The Definition); 10) Casuality Of The Times; 11) I Live It; 12) It's For Life; 13) Another Voice.

Oh fuck NO. Just as these guys were almost about to turn into a marginally interesting band in the context of the new first decade, Matt «Metal God» Henderson is back, and with him, the drea­ded «crossover» sound. Even if you are in the dumb half of Agnostic Front fans, the very title of the album will remind you of One Voice — and, unless you are in the very dumb half of the dumb half of Agnostic Front fans, will teach you to steer clear of the record.

Once again, Miret is through with shouting and/or singing, and picks up the practice of, uh, let's call it expectorating. Only this time, with much cleaner and crisper production, his vocals are ne­ver lost in the metal guitar growl, and now, to quote Ian Anderson, he is «spitting out the pieces of his broken lungs» right in your face, so arm yourself with napkins a-plenty before turning on the music. I have no idea what kind of world this person must be living in if there were even two or three people who supported him on taking up this vocal approach. «Right on, Roger! Be the envy of professional wrestlers worldwide!»

The utter stupidity of the vocals is hardly helped by the fact that Matt Henderson loyally conti­nues dis-providing fresh riffs — most of the current batch seems like regurgitated old stock foo­tage, stolen out of the vaults of everybody from Sabbath to Slayer — and that I did not even no­tice any guitar solo passages whatsoever. Not that solos would have seriously helped, of course, but, in order to be at least briefly relieved of the endless, monotonous, gray-tone chugga-chugga, I would have welcomed even Yngwie Malmsteen as a guest star on a couple of tracks.

The only dubiously redeeming quality of this bunch of metalcore garbage is that the band still seems to have plenty of dedication to whatever they are doing — in fact, 'Dedication' is even the name of one of the tracks — and that they are still running high on genuine testosterone. Unfortu­nately, pure, undiluted testosterone only makes me puke. Thumbs down.

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Agnostic Front: Dead Yuppies

AGNOSTIC FRONT: DEAD YUPPIES (2001)

1) I Wanna Know; 2) Out Of Reach; 3) Everybody's A Critic; 4) Liberty; 5) Club Girl; 6) Uncle Sam; 7) Urban De­ca­dence; 8) Love To Be Hated; 9) No Mercy; 10) Politician; 11) Pedophile; 12) Alright; 13) Dead Yuppies; 14) Stan­ding On My Own.

Recorded with Mike Gallo on bass this time, and I almost think I can hear the difference — some damn fine basslines on occasion, particularly on 'Pedophile' (no implications meant). It is also one of those 2001 releases that got in accidental trouble for you-know-what: the title Dead Yuppies was generated before 9/11, and the album sleeves were most likely printed before that date, too, or else the band would have probably changed the title. As it was, all they could do was delay the release by a few weeks — and then slap an annoying sticker on each copy, explaining how deep­ly they feel about the plight of, er, all them «dead yuppies». Cowards, I say. Hypocrites.

But you know what? The album itself is decidedly not half-bad. In fact — in response to surpri­sed complaints about why I should spend time reviewing the entire lengthy career of a band I so obviously do not give a damn about — it was almost worth it sitting through Agnostic Front's shitty efforts to arrive at something like Dead Yuppies. To me, it sounds like the culmination, and the most sensible product of the band's second pure-hardcore phase of existence.

Basically, the songs are a wee bit slower, a tad less noisy, a trifle more disciplined, and a tiny touch more melodic than on the previous two albums. Without sacrificing the spirit, they have somewhat improved on the form. At its best, Dead Yuppies sounds like it actually is carrying on the tradition of early 1980s accessible hardcore — the one that was more concerned with tough­en­ing up the achievements of «pop punk» rather than with breaking the barriers between punk and pure noise.

Among other things, Dead Yuppies contains my absolutely favorite Agnostic Front song — 'Li­berty', an anthem as straightforward as any they have ever written, but completely noise-free and with a catchy singalong chorus to boot. It is almost amazing how a phrase as trite as "give me li­berty or give me death" can still sound so inspiring in the year 2001, but somehow, it does. This is the magic of Agnostic Front: they may have very little musical talent (or so it would seem), and their metal yearnings may more often lead them away from the path of righteousness than onto it, but when they're on, they're ON — there is no doubting the genuine heat of the fire that is work­ing out their steampower.

I am also amused by 'Love To Be Hated', featuring the hilarious phrase "well I know somebody somewhere is gonna FUCK ME!" delivered in an utterly hilarious way; by the above-mentioned 'Pedophile', whose shift between the loud chainsaw-buzz sections and the quiet, bass-driven parts is certainly more of an achievement than the chorus ("Kill yourself, suicide, it's about time you fuckin' die" — Miret's paternal advice to the protagonist); and by 'Standing On My Own', another fairly convincing anthem. Actually, it may be so that the chief attraction of Dead Yuppies are its gang choruses and, uh, «vocal harmonies», adding melody, structure, and individual hooks to the band's usual pile of similar-sounding energy blasts. But why not?

Even if most of the other songs still fall short of occupying the proper memory cells, it is impor­tant to understand — here is an album recorded in 2001 that sounds exactly like it could have be­en recorded in 1981, not a year later. For comparison, could the Rolling Stones circa 1983 record an album that'd sound totally 1963? And not just from a purely technical standpoint, but actually conveying the same spirit? I'd say this alone is a fine achievement on the part of these guys, and merits at least an «intellectual» thumbs up, if not necessarily an emotional one. Especially con­sidering all the evolution (= degradation) of the punk scene over that 20-year period.

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