Power-violence. Such a masculine genre, isn’t it? It’s hardcore stripped down to its pants, bare naked and raw for the world to see and hate upon. The genre’s latest hopefuls expect no less of you – anything other than a reaction of complete and utter disgust would be a failure.

They’re Bournemouth’s Witch Cult; consisting of a Spazz fanboy, an Integrity fanboy, a Fall Of Efafra fanboy, a Trash Talk fanboy and a Minutemen fanboy, they are a bunch of misfits with instruments creating incomprehensive brain-destroying sludge for bros to mosh the fuck out and get down to. They call this ‘South Coast Power-violence’, but if I’m honest with you, it’s basically just regular powerviolence backed by quite an extraordinary amount of hype.

On paper, they’re a DIY punk’s wet dream. They gained momentum on the Internet without recording any songs. They spread the word of their forthcoming apocalypse through giving out homemade patches. They gained the approval of ‘the scene’, and for a brief moment in time it actually seemed like something special was going to happen. But it didn’t. Don’t get me wrong, for what the record is, it’s okay – it ticks all the right boxes. You’ve got the ridiculous tempos, the absolutely screeching guitars and the insane, spazzy aesthetic – but it doesn’t go anywhere else.

The record’s ten minutes long. Ten minutes. Over 10 tracks. Now, I know punk records are meant to be short and sweet – but this 12” doesn’t really go anywhere. When it suddenly stops you’re left thinking “wait, what? Is that really it?” and you shouldn’t be thinking that of a band which is supposed to be delivering something that’s more than subpar.

It’s a shame, because they definitely have potential. Under all the pretentiousness of the reverb and the breakdowns and the walls of noise, there’s some pretty good rhythms and dare I say it – actual melodies. Something which if they’d emphasised a little more would’ve made a much more interesting record. Tracks like ‘Break’ and ‘Everyday’ are great examples of this, and oh! They both have something in common: they’re both more than a minute long.

At the end of the day, I suppose Witch Cult do exactly what they say on the tin – ten minutes of powerviolence for you to be really bloody angry to. What they don’t do however is deliver what it says on the back of the label of the glorified, golden tin they’ve dressed up as a holy grail, and I genuinely think a lot of people are going to be disappointed.