“Strength through hate. Thanks to no one.” These are the last two sentences of the LP insert for Cadaver Dog’s brutal 2018 LP Dying Breed, and no two sentences better capture the attitude of the LP. These fifteen songs are an eleven minute negativity filled gut punch that follow one right after the other. Cadaver Dog is the brain child of one James Trejo, who not only wrote the fifteen songs that make up Dying Breed, but also played every instrument on the recording. There are no moments of rest, no moments of understanding, no moments of quiet; every song bleeds into one another making Dying Breed a non-stop barrage of sheer aggression.

Coming off the heels of Cadaver Dog’s 2016 release Blunt Force Trauma, Dying Breed follows in the same footsteps, but somehow manages to pack even more of a wallop than its predecessor. Musically the songs on Dying Breed seem like basic hardcore; chord changes happen in a blur, manically growled vocals loom over you, and drums that pummel you to the floor. But with Dying Breed it’s more than just a typical hardcore record. Trejo is letting us hear what hardcore is and what hardcore should always be, pure unrefined anger. Even through all the negativity there is an excitement that flows through out the record. It’s an energizing listen, and dare I say it, kind of a fun one too. Every instrument on the recording is pushed well past the red, and the vocals follow suit. Combine that sound with some of the most evil and angry lyrics I have ever read, and you’ve got yourself the perfect way to excise your inner demons. “Enjoyment of life / Makes me want death / There’s no fucking pleasure, in feeling happiness.” I mean, honestly, that is about as angry as you can get, but somehow Trejo finds a way to go beyond that, “Fucking repulsed by everyone around me / Blood thirsty visions of the enemy / Jaded, empty, there’s nothing left / I’ll see all of your faces at the end of a bat.” Trejo is definitely finding his strength through hate and somewhere beyond that.

The eleven minute journey through James Trejo’s mind leaves you as shaken to the core as a four hour snuff film. It’s a record of pure negative emotion that you will find yourself drifting back to often without even being sure of why. When you think of hardcore music you always think of energy, anger, and aggression, but most of hardcore feels like it’s just posturing after you listen to Cadaver Dog. James Trejo’s version, and vision of hardcore, is exactly what hardcore should be. Pure fucking anger.