The balaclava is a garment that carries dual connotations: it can be warm and cozy, protection and comfort for the head and face in freezing conditions and an essential garment for mountaineers, but it can equally be perceived as threatening, a way of masking – literally – one's identity, as favoured by muggers, terrorists and bank robbers.
There's nothing remotely cozy, comforting or woolly about Balaclava of Richmond, Virginia who unleash sonic terrorism on their debut full-length album. 'Crimes of Faith' is a detonation of utter brutality, bringing sludgy elements to the tried and tested hardcore punk template to forge a sound that hits like a hurricane of screaming vocals and guitars that slam like a tsunami, leaving nothing but a trail of devastation.
Seven tracks are enough – especially considering that two run well past the eight-minute mark: any more would lessen the impact. As it stands, 'Crimes of Faith' is a bludgeoning aural assault, and when they do, briefly, take things down a notch, the guitars simply feed back and drone, thick and heavy, the musical equivalent of a mudslide, or otherwise surprisingly delicate, as in the almost mellow mid0section of 'This City'.
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For the most part though, battering-ram percussion drives a maelstrom of overdive that melds hardcore, crust and metal to create a hard-hitting yet musically articulate expression of ire that hits the spot – hard.
Balaclava on MySpace
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