This started out as a piece on one track from their new album, an introduction for us sent by Voice Of Addiction which was so persuasive the whole album had to instead be the focus of attention. A multi-flavoured punk rock roar from the Chicago based band, The Lost Art of Empathy is one rousing confrontation which has the body bouncing and spirit leaping with its boisterous escapades from start to finish.
Becoming a potent part of the Chicago punk scene through their explosive live shows, Voice Of Addiction have been stirring up ears and venues since 2004, with a handful of releases and a host of compilation appearances marking their way. At their centre is vocalist/bassist Ian “JohnnyX “ Tomele joined upon the latest Voice Of Addiction stomp by drummer Dennis Tynan, guitarist/backing vocalist Jake Smith, and backing vocalist Luke Ostojic. Listening to the treat that is The Lost Art of Empathy, it seems impossible that the band is not a more widely recognised proposition within the global punk scene; a prospect their new album just might trigger.
With politically and socially challenging lyrics matched by a sound which bites however it comes across it’s twelve tracks, The Lost Art of Empathy opens up with that first song heard here. Rustbelt instantly coaxes ears with a spicy hook which is soon joined by a grouchy bassline and jabbing beats. Together they surge at the senses, developing an infectious urgency as Tomele’s vocals with equally potent backing swiftly capture the imagination. In no time the romp is igniting ears and appetite, its drive towards one irresistible chorus just as manipulative as everything from hardcore, pop and classic punk seems to get involved.
The following Dead By Dawn has a rawer manner in tone and touch but is equally as contagious with athletic beats and the grumbling bass shaping the assault from within which a collage of vocals and the clang of guitar entice. Smith spins a web of sonic endeavour as unpredictable as his riffs are rabid before Unity brings its own belligerent defiance to the party. Tomele’s bass again whips up the appetite, its magnetic prowess matched by another potent mix of vocals across the band.
Petty Schemes swaggers in next with a knowing mischief before bounding into a snarling and keenly eventful melodic punk blaze while the soulful Corporate Pariah evolves into a ska punk canter before which feet and hips are leaping as thoughts are provoked by the tracks incisive words. Both songs hit the spot, the second especially persuasive before Lockwood uncages its sonic spiral and subsequent punk contagion to eclipse both. Across the album bands such as NOFX, Bad Religion, and Angelic Upstarts come to mind, this track especially hinting but there is no denying that Voice Of Addiction embrace all into their own individual furor.
The street punk fuelled I Can’t Breathe invitingly brawls with the listener next, the band merging US and seventies UK punk for its tenacious attack and triumph; a success matched by the visceral punk holler of Everything Must Go. It too is a collusion of styles within the punk banner; alternative and math rock flirting with hardcore tendencies to enthral and arouse.
Through the caustic yet melodically hued tear up of Ad Nauseum and the equally uncompromising and enticing Eviction Notice, the album continues to grip attention even if the songs do not hit the same level as those before them; a plateau Alcorn Queen definitely flirts with straight after with its Mars Volta meets Converge like adventure and animosity. The track is superb, stealing best track honours at the death though there is still time for the acoustic brilliance of Are We Even Human Anymore to shine with Tomele vocally luring ears like moths to a flame.
The Lost Art of Empathy is a moment in time not to be missed; indeed all punks should make it their cause to share its compelling sound as too the presence of Voice Of Addiction. America is catching on, now it is our turn around the world.
The Lost Art of Empathy is available now @ https://voiceofaddiction.bandcamp.com/album/the-lost-art-of-empathy-2
https://voiceofaddiction.com/ https://www.facebook.com/voarockers/ https://twitter.com/VoArockers
Pete RingMaster 09/08/2017
Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright
The following Shutdown offers its own collusion of punk and metal lined rock ‘n’ roll next; prowling riffs and biting rhythms a predacious incitement matched in success and intrusive magnetism by a litter of hooks and vocal unity. Standing at the fore SV is the trigger, his tones a belligerent yet welcoming cause to get on board with whilst the bass simply seduces the appetite with its devious groove. The track rocks the joint with ease, bodies and speakers rocking just as tenaciously through the more corrosive presence of Gatecrash and in turn by the seriously irresistible of Fuck This For A Game Of Soldiers. The first of the two lacks some of the sparks of its predecessor, such the former’s inventive bent, but still has full command of again throat and physical participation with its dirty punk ‘n’ roll while the second simply snarls and invades the senses with its primal hearted, melodically catchy antics. Initially a predator in sound and invention, it evolves into another SV anthem which chews up the listener whilst stirring them into an outpouring of unbridled energy. Not Wired Up Right features a special guest in Ginger Wildheart on guitar and backing vocals on three tracks and it would be no surprise if this superb dirt-fest of a romp was not one of them such its unsterilized gutter nurtured rock ’n’ roll.
Through the sonic call to arms scourge of Kill the Beast and the Dead Kennedys scented Prayer, new twists of sound and invention force themselves through ears, each with a virulent strain of spiky hooks and body twisting grooves, while their successor has things bouncing like a dervish. Siva / Rudra is a contagion of enterprise as cantankerous as it is exotically seductive marked, as all three, by Oliveri springing basslines as funky as they are carnal. Alongside, Youth’s riffs and grooves come as primal as they are compelling whilst Joseph squeezes every ounce of uncompromising adventure and emotional incitement out of tone and syllable.
The sultry melodic hues of Bowman’s guitar immediately ignite next up Hope, Fear, Pain, Love, Desire if not lingering around long enough when seducing ears across its contagiously muscular canter for personal tastes while Survive just blisters the senses with its energy and rapacious tone. Though neither quite hits the levels of songs before them each brings hooks and invention which resourcefully leaves a smile on lips before being fully eclipsed by the chest beating might of Let’s Go. For any band, punk or not, wanting to learn about creating organic but purposeful anthems sure to whip up the hearts of their fans, this fevered soundtrack to any uprising has it all; 4 Past Midnight continuing to deliver such incitements album after album at times almost song after song.
The EP opens with the outstanding Ghost Town, a song swiftly making a successful claim for best moment and most potent lure within Lights. With a great slightly off-kilter indie rock revelry to its punk rock tenacity, the track like a mix of Asylums and The Wildhearts, things are swiftly bold and sweaty as the swinging beats of Josh Woolnough scythe through the nagging riffs and spiky grooves of guitarists Matty Halliwell and Lewis Horsley respectively. The energetic vocals of the former equally inject an energy and fresh identity to the encounter, it all colluding in an adventurous and unpredictable mix driven by the alluringly throbbing groan of Laurence Burkitt’s bassline. In no time body and vocal chords are enlisted by the arousing antics of the song, its dynamic and almost bitchy start the perfect introduction to Reckless Intentions.
The album descends on ears with opener Suicide Generation first of all; one minute and a handful of seconds of clanging rock ‘n roll led by the exasperated tones of frontman Sebastian Melmoth. Every aspect of the track is as muggy as it is concussive but veined by intricate melodic acidity which winds seductively around the fuzzy antics of Emily Crowler’s rhythm guitar. It is a potent, enticing smog of sound swiftly out powered and shone by Why Can’t I Play With You. The second track needs mere seconds to lay down heavy seductive hooks within a similarly intensive weight of sound. A Cramps-esque hue smokes vocals and sound alike, Suicide Generation finding a gripping rawness which even their assumed inspirations would have eagerly embraced as the song flirts and dances with garage rock and punk irritability.