Album Review: Horrid Human Condition – Perpetual Imbalance

It’s use of samples is sparing but generally appropriate – I’m typically not a fan of such diversions, but hearing an ex-marine scream “MY FRIENDS ARE DEAD BECAUSE YOU LIED” at George Bush when “Disguise” begins goes unutterably hard. But it’s when the album decides to blast that it resonates most with me. When the primal warfare of “Scorn” hits, or “Price to Pay” unleashes shock tactics, it’s in those moments that this release really gets the class warfare into full gear. That’s predictable to an extent – It’s always going to be when the rev counter hits the red that I’m most invested. But Horrid Human Condition can also bludgeon you insensible with a withering powerviolence groove too – “The Great Decay” hits with the immutable crunch of teeth splitting on a curb, skin grating against concrete to spread wet, red pathways along it. Batons rise and fall with the same fevered pace as the percussion, hollow pops through the mix as bone fractures beneath. The streets are lit only by fires now, hot ember flares as cold breeze slips through the black skeletons of burnt cars. Distant shouts as the crowd moves elsewhere, their footfalls long gone but spoken of in the glittering mosaic of broken glass littering roads for miles around. Flames fan like peacock feathers, part renewal, part retribution, and sat somewhere in their ivory towers men who can never be rich enough steeple their fingers and bide their time.

I’m not sure that anyone else would care for my flights of literary pretension, but I suppose what I’m trying to convey with them is what I get from the album; what it evokes, the images and emotions it calls to mind. If an album can maintain that evocation through the fullness of its runtime, unbroken, then I consider it a point of praise. Which isn’t to say that I can’t see anything to criticise Horrid Human Condition for. The opening tack – “Prelude to Failure” – sets the mood well enough but is ultimately pretty inessential, and the album doesn’t exactly break the mould, fitting like a glove within the boundaries of it’s particular sub-genre without straining any of them overmuch. There’s a bleak poignancy to that, insofar as so many left wing revolutions have wound up the same way, turning on and devouring themselves, becoming just as callous and indifferent as the capitalist systems they sought once to dethrone if they get anywhere at all. These same minor key variations on riffs have been played, one way or another, a million times across a million bands, these same punk strumming patterns just as well worn. It’s done well, with a scuzzy, dirty production and an awesomely prominent bass, so there’s a limit to how entitled I’d feel to complain, but nonetheless it has also been done well before. Also, I realise I mentioned that the samples were appropriate, and they are – except for two; that “humanity is a virus” sample from The Matrix. Fine, it’s a decent scene, but at this point the amount of times I’ve heard it sampled exceeds the amount of times I’ve seen the film it’s pulled from and secondly, the “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore” sample is just as redundant. I’d quibble the album sequencing to a minor degree – I think “The Last Era” would be a more appropriate closing track – and some songs obviously aren’t as good as others, but nothing is “bad” or even approaching subpar – it’s all consistently invigorating, the parting blows of a forlorn cause thrown with all the spite there is to summon against an irresistible oppressor.

And it all went quiet in the city. The revolution, as many before it, quelled. Its leaders hounded. A populace subdued, suppressed. Its failure lingering in slithering smoke tails sliding up into the choking smog. It’s perhaps a function of the “crust” prefix in “crust punk”, but there’s none of the uplift of a lot of punk. The punk defiance on this release exists in force, but its welded to a denaturing, smouldering anger that longs to smash and smash ‘til nothing remains of a most hated enemy. But it’s not joyous, nor delighting in the sense of righteous fury. No. There is only the rage, and the will to throttle a foe until their throats creak and their eyes roll backwards into their skulls. I’m on board with it, though it’s faults exist, and it isn’t strong enough to vault its more esteemed predecessors. Still - to paraphrase Mary J Blige, let there be neither hateration nor holleration in this dancery. In the end the “if it ain't broke…” ethos has allowed Horrid Human Condition to hit the ground flailing lit molotovs and yanking a guillotine behind them with their teeth. Subtle it is not, but then, extreme conditions demand extreme responses. If your social calendar involves burnt Teslas, anarchist communes, and good old fashioned civil disobedience, look no further for background music.