«Built for War»
4 September 2015
Just think for a minute ’bout what would happen if you blended NWOBHM, oldschool punk, sleazy «biker» groove rock, melodic viking metal and razorsharp modern thrash, and y’pretty much get the general picture of what «Built for War» is about in technical terms- I do, however, adamantly and passionately defend the point that this record is about the fucking feel, grit, and lethal wildfire of the delivery. Where HAMMERCULT is concerned, I wouldn’t give half a rat’s arse if they suddenly ended up switching gears all the way from vintage rock to swedish death metal- they can blend sub-genres in any way they like- the way they bring the goods is as effective as it is because of their commendable attitude problem I love them for so damn much.
In layman’s terms, if you want to guzzle on adrenaline and feel so energized as a result you don’t give half a living fuck about where you are and what you’re doing to the point where you can hardly touch the ground, this is what you wanna spin. This is like a wild and fairly breck-neck ride down a highway where not a single civilian is around for their typical sole purpose to cut across or slow you down.
Saying I’m impressed with the versatility of the guitarwork we have here would be a dramatically astounding under-statement. Guitarists Guy Ben David and Yuval Kramer work together with sticksman Maayan Henik to pull you into this deadly, high-voltage realm of unforgivingly tempestuous song structures that, as mentioned above, range from one style to the other within the often noteworthy short span of less than three minutes, effortlessly steamrollin’ through verses that will burn across flesh with their immediate sex-appeal, interweaving with choruses that are infectious and just as effective everytime they’re back into the framework (as opposed to being a corny annoyance); solo sections don’t appear to be scheduled or force-fed given the varied approaches to such passages, going from wondrously technical speed-riffery to more introspective and luxuriously melodic licks that have a way of making these tracks feel roomier, and slightly more akin to what one would appreciate on a 3 INCHES OF BLOOD record (RIP). The vocals also aptly melt one’s fucking face off with its clear intent to simply grate through your skull ’til you’re gone- that and a bag o’ chips.
This thirteen-track long-player zooms right past you, leavin’ ya so bruised you’ve had no time to process nearly all of its awesomness before it’s done and you’re left physically needing more. This is a dose of high-volume danger you might want to appreciate as it slices through you and allows you to love every minute of the fucking wreckage- really, in other words, I might as well say it’s how metal should always be brought to the table. This type of authentic and merciless onslaught of an approach is simply necessary to make me take notice.