Recorded at Planet Z Studios, Hadley, Massachusetts.

Personnel: Jamey Jasta (vocals); Sean Martin (guitar); Mike Bryne (drums).

Audio Mixer: Mike Fraser.

Recording information: Planet-Z, Hadley, MA.

Crowd reaction and participation have always been hallmarks of the hardcore and thrash genres. It's probably the ultimate goal of any music to entertain, to illicit some kind of response from the listener. But within these enclaves -- especially hardcore -- the musicians can become mouthpieces for the mob, their songs vessels for carrying a collective meaning. While that conduit's energy has been sapped somewhat by shifting allegiances and new influences both in and outside of loud rock, it's remained one of Hatebreed's guiding principles. This has never been more apparent than with Rise of Brutality, the quartet's rapid-fire follow-up to 2002's Perseverance. There are no nods to melodic sensibility here, no cloying string sections or "Let me hear you say" hip-hop flourishes. No, shouter Jamey Jasta and his band have turned in 32 minutes of hard, visceral music that knocks the chip off your shoulder so that it might scream louder in your ear. Songs seem specially designed to incite the crowd -- the choruses of "Tear It Down" and "This Is Now" establish a call and response. Lyrics begin with actionable words, and end with emphatic periods. "Strength, to deny you," Jasta chants over the manic, death metal-ish "Confide in No One." "Trust, in my instincts/Breath, when I'm drowning/Life, when I must rise again." Musically, Rise of Brutality is just as economic. The inclusionary anthem "Live for This" is reduced to the threatening rumble of Sean Martin's guitar and a few well-placed Matt Byrne drum fills, the better for kids to recognize and revel in Jasta's blood, sweat, and sheer honesty. "Another Day, Another Vendetta" is dedicated to and draws directly from Sick of It All; it's classicist N.Y.C. hardcore with a message applicable to Hatebreed's singular reason for being -- "Stay close to what is true to you." Metal, thrash, and hardcore continue to be maligned by outside forces or the quest for accessibility. In defiant response, Hatebreed get respect the old-fashioned way. They earn it. ~ Johnny Loftus

There comes a time in young music fans' lives when they put aside the flashy, lightweight records of their teens, come face to face with humanity's harsh realities, and pick new tunes appropriate to a more serious and realistic worldview. Anyone who feels that it's time to relegate such albums to the box under the bed would do well to start a new life-phase with a little Hatebreed.

On THE RISE OF BRUTALITY, the band lives up to the record's title, delivering a disc of astonishing purity and extreme volume. There is no rapping. There are no turntables and no power ballads. In fact, there is nothing here but a mind-numbing, ferocious, and totally unrelenting onslaught of drums, guitar, bass, and hoarse-voiced shouting. Unlike similar-sounding bands, though, Hatebreed never sounds less than totally impassioned, making for a uniformly thrilling listening experience. Taking its cues from socially aware 1980s hardcore like Sick of It All and Agnostic Front, the band combines positive messages with enough hyper-speed double-bass drumming and stop-on-a-dime rhythmic shifts to keep even the most sugar and testosterone-addled youth moshing until they reach retirement age.