A few short years ago, I looked upon my music collection and pondered, “If I’m listening to such fucked up shit as compared to the previous generation, what’ll the generation following mine be listening to?” I envisioned a movement in music in which its listeners would be able to detect within musical matrix the grinding of machines and static. A movement in music in culture alien and disturbing in nature to those outside its vortex. Digital Hardcore is the label precursor to such a movement; a necessary link in the evolutionary chain; a scaly reticulating omen of things to come.
Bomb 20 makes no bones about being on the outside and having to chomp and stomp its way in. They have discovered the animal — no make that the monster — in the machine. They are the product of tech, but have become something more organic, oily, acidic, bloody, and hungry. After listening to it, your ears will definitely never be the same. It comes down like a jackhammer and cracks the foundation of all aesthetic sensibilities.
Revolutionary in nature, through and through, these sonic terrorists use familiar hip hop beats as a delivery system for a virus of sound that will eventually erode the ground floor of an all too blasé culture and society. Your parents aren’t ready for it. Your friends aren’t gonna be ready for it. You’re not ready for it. And the MAN definitely ain’t ready for it.
Field Manual is just that. The liner notes offer no pretentious lyrics or industry info, but are dedicated to educating the reader on just how we are being duped by the establishment, and the what’s and how’s we can do something about it. This aspect of this release is truly inspired and reeks of sincerity and passion. Bomb 20 could do the world a shitload of good by just distributing the front pages of this CD. But if one is incapable of assimilating the sound, is one ready for such toxic ideas? Digital Hardcore Recordings, 30 Dean Street, London W1V 5AN, UK; http://www.bomb20.com