When civilization collapses, fuel and ammunition will be humanity’s most valuable resources. You know it. I know it. George Miller knows it. That’s why I keep hundreds of full five-gallon gas cans and thousands of shotgun shells in my basement. That’s perfectly safe, right?
Not that earlier Children Of Technology was in the slightest bit short on spark, but new drummer Dee Dee Altar drives this particular war rig with his pedal to the metal, propelling Borys Crossburn’s punkish speedy riffs with all the subtlety of a nitrous injection. From the crossover swagger of “Soundtrack Of No Future” onward, Written Destiny operates primarily in fourth or fifth gears, offset by a mid-album downshift in the eminently hooky “The New Barbarians,” replete with the closest this band will likely ever come to a singalong epic melody. That track is almost by default one of Destiny’s standouts, simply because it literally stands out from the chunky thrash around it by virtue of difference, but it’s also one of the best just because it does break from the galloping norm long enough to come up for air. Still, Children Of Technology’s forte remains the gleeful abandon of their Discharge-meets-Slayer ‘core-fueled bashing, exemplified in tunes like “Warpainted Nightcreatures” and “Creation Through Destruction.” And seriously, kids, could there ever a better possible song title for this type of thing than “Warpainted Nightcreatures”? The answer is simply, “No.” Throughout Destiny‘s thirty-three-minute assault, vocalist DeathLörd Astwülf snarls and shouts, punctuating his bark with the odd Araya-like piercing scream, the madman leading the warrior gangs into battle. (To my knowledge, this particular Astwülf is of no relation to the more famous Astwülf.)
Like the good apocalyptic b-movies that undoubtedly inspired them, Children Of Technology isn’t necessarily made for deep analysis — this is pure, unadulterated, crossover-thrashing fun, born of the giddy rush of adrenaline that comes with speed and fire and volume. Put it in your CD player or dial it up on your digital device of choice; apply your warpaint and lace up your boots; strap on some spikes and machine guns and weld the proper armor to your weather-beaten vehicle, my friends. Let’s go pillage the wastelands, shall we?