Opening this madness of 11-tracks over 16 minutes comes “To The Grave” that is a rapid-fire machine gun flurry of drum sticks clicking and cymbals crashing. Instinctively the idea of a tornado and flashes of light come to fruition as the listener is drowned out by the crowds and hordes of people that pull them under in chaos. But being originally based in Philadelphia, Limp Wrist as a record has a harsh backing for support as bands like Paint It Black and Hot Cross were around this same time of release, and even original OG’s like Pure Hell that could break barriers for punk in the mid-70s.
With a strong historical foundation that claims to have “start[ed] practicing in a Philadelphia basement in 1998, and played our first show in 1999 at Stalag 13 in West Philly,” Limp Wrist is no stranger to the stage or to the decimation of one. The more capturing moments that shine through Limp Wrist appear on tracks like “Spun” where those years of collaboration from each member and the switches to the current line-up still show a sense of unity that is hard to describe. With “Spun,” the overall mission is incredibly tight with the instrumentals pouring sweat and blood into this rage-fueled gasoline trip. As vocals from Martin Sorrondeguy rain over the listener, the shouts are intimidating but sound similar to a pouncing animal that was once prey.
Before Limp Wrist breaks every bone in your body, they show relentless aggression in the form of laying themselves under the magnifying glass. When the crowds finally stop moving, all that remains is a pillar for punk rock against an everlasting battle of unity.