Harm's Way- Rust LP review

Harm’s Way- Rust LP review

Imagine a cinematic sequence of a movie version of Streets of Rage:  Four guys surround you; one has a machete, one has a pipe, a third has a knife, and one more is unarmed.  The guy with the pipe swings at you, but you dodge it and hook him, knocking his featherweight ass out; he drops it and you pick it up.  You swing it up at the guy with the machete, who is coming at you, blade raised in the air.  You knock him back, stunning him briefly as he drops his weapon and the knife wielder lunges at you, the blade drawn and pointed right at your midsection.  You lean far backward, your assailant just missing his strike as you drop the pipe in your left hand.  With that same hand, you force your fingers into his throat and rip out his Adam’s apple, pitching up his knife as the two remaining assailants close in once again.  You swing the knife in the direction of the unarmed assassin, causing him to take a step back, while the Jason Voorhees wannabe gears up to slice you.  As he brings his blade down, you do a 180° spin with your right arm at shoulder level, with your own blade traveling in the direction of this armed assailant, who just misses you as the blade passes only three inches away from your back.  The knife swiftly enters into his neck; he almost instantly drops his weapon, clutching at his neck as you let go of your stolen knife.  Seeing that your one remaining adversary is right behind you and moving in, you let out a spinkick and do an about-face to confront your final enemy.  You pick up the machete from the ground and glare at your only remaining adversary, staring almost all the way through him as the urge to scream in anger rips through your body.  Your final assailant turns around and runs away in fear as your mouth open to bellow out all the rage that’s festered inside you all these years; finally, you unleash it…

You realize you’re the singer of Harm’s Way, an extremely heavy metallic hardcore band from Chicago, Illinois, and your assailants were members of Weekend Nachos, the last surviving member (the one who turned tail and ran, the turncoat bastard) being Snyder.  You realize that you have to finish vocals for your new record, and you get back to the studio to lay down the last few tracks.  Heavily influenced sound-wise by death and industrial metal, you lay down a similar albeit different style of vocal more akin to a hoarse version of Mike IX Williams from Eyehategod.  The records comes off as sounding as heavy, pissed, and full as ever, though the lyrics indicate you are a man of few words.  Just as it should be.  Truly a progression just as much as it no doubt a Harm’s Way album.

-Aunty Social