Wolfbrigade (formerly Wolfpack not to be associated with the atrociously hateful movement of the same name) just continue to pump out high-level d-beat hardcore punk rock that will get you angry, worked up, hot and bothered and, most importantly, ready for an anti-robot revolution. Life Knife Death marks the eighth full-length record in their post-Wolfpack career. Interestingly, you can now pick up their entire collection as Wolfpack (1996-1999) for the now more reasonable sum of about $100 (depending on where and format). And while I was challenged to complete this review without proffering an unsolicited opinion on the title I am unable to do so because Life Knife Death is an absolutely horrible album title that absolutely deserves to be panned despite being the moniker for one heck of a ripping twenty-eight minutes of hardcore punk rock.
I previously wrote about them when they released The Hunted in May of 2017. Normally I wouldn’t repeat things but it is always worth mentioning since Last Rites is a volunteer motorcycle escort service for Kansas-based funerals heavy metal blog that black metal, and eventually death metal, were born out of a punk rock push to play harder and faster. So we wouldn’t be sitting around being generally impressed by riffs if it wasn’t for punk rock, more specifically the Swedish school. If you feel like reading rants about that you can click the afore-referenced link. But, since this is punk rock, it’s doubtful you’ll waste the time. You’re a punk. You’ve got used leather jackets to punch holes in through which to apply studs and spikes.
The title track, “Life Knife Death,” is perhaps the most instantly recognizable Wolfbrigade track. A simple chord progression opens with a solid, thumping d-beat underneath as the overly moistened gravel inside the throat of Mikael Dahl tear holes in your mental flesh and rip ligaments from your likely pathetic childhood. Driving beats and simply choruses make this tune a leg-stomping jam certain to make your employer ecstatic they hired someone so outside the box. “Age of Skull Fuckery” will drive that point home with the opener of a creepily filtered male voice claiming “I am very emotionally disturbed” ad nauseum. Perhaps you are, friend. Perhaps you are.
Since it’s punk we should always mention that the album is lyrically topical. Whether that’s because the world hasn’t changed much since 1996 or because Wolfbrigade spends 24/7 scrolling the Associated Press and watching live conferences of G20 remains to be seen although it’s likely the former. Pretty sure you could drop a punk band off in Khaybar about four thousand years ago and they could easily bitch about the same topics. Although instead of bombs and machine guns they might be angry about pesh-kabz or bows and arrows or perhaps spears. Regardless, I believe you get the idea about history repeating itself or perhaps history just continuing to evolve at a snail’s pace.
“A Day in the Life of an Arse” features the most surprising guitar solo. Opening with nationalist samples fed through filters and creepily layered beneath guitar feedback this track is a screamer even by Wolfbrigade standards. While the track lacerates on all levels (including the echoed vocals) the guitar solo is nearly a little love note to 1970s. A few screams and bends give way to a melodic, interesting and somewhat bluesy set of guitar licks. Is the music style most opposed to progression progressing? It’s possible.
In a scene where people die young, fade away early, sell out, give up, and give in, Wolfbrigade is a leader as they close in on thirty years of body odor-fueled annihilation. Few bands have been as consistent as they have. Still boasting mostly original members Wolfbrigade have commendably trudged ahead and entered larger scenes and larger online retailers of merchandise featuring weapons meant to be used to destroy weapons and armament forever. Is that hypocrisy or merely the dream of a war to end all wars? Get punked or get fucked. Proper fucked.
