There's something to be said for a band that pulls no punches; there's something to be said for a band that never so much as lets you catch a breath. Assholeparade are one such band, and their lightning-fast style has been a thrash mainstay for over 10 years now, and Embers is proof they haven't forgotten what got them there:
Fast and relentless hardcore.
From the snarling vocals of Travis G to the four men that back him up, there's nothing to stop the stream of chaos and distortion that each short song offers. And make no mistake -- the songs are short. With an average length of about 45 seconds, Assholeparade have to cram as much as possible into a very tiny box. That means no grandiose crescendos, no elongated guitar solos, and no lyrical pontification -- short and to-the-point is the way these men do business.
"The Cash in of the Christ," a song affectionately written about Mel Gibson, shows that through all the muddy production and powerful vocals, there's a social conscience. Just don't expect them to be eloquent about it, as their political and social thoughts are anything but. Eloquent they are not, but full of fire and conviction they are; within two minutes time, Gibson is regarded as the reason hate exists ("You are on my list, the reason hate exists / A lethal fucking weapon") and George W. Bush is not spared either ("Four more fucking years of hell, bodies piled to the fucking sky / A beast with no regard for human life, like how the false witness prophesized"). And I suppose words like that are easy to say, but it's the ferocity in which they are delivered that makes those words truly stick. "Re-throned Emperor," the aforementioned song regarding Bush, has some of the band's fastest guitar work, and drummer Jon W. has to hammer his kit as hard as he can just to keep up.
Songs like "Quarterpipe" make that no easy task, as the thrashy explosion packs a mighty punch in thirty seconds' time, making anything longer that keeps up the same intensity all the more impressive.
Assholeparade, especially by their genre's standards, have been doing this a while. Most bands fizzle out after a couple years and/or zap their creative energy, but Gainseville's loudest sons keep thrashing on. They know what it means to be loud and abrasive and they know how to make killer songs that fit that bill. And nobody, not George W. Bush, or William Wallace himself, can tell them otherwise.