Frank Carter is back with his Rattlesnakes for a second LP, and it’s a half hour scourge of abrasive pop-punk, propulsively led by furious, agitated guitar riffs and Carter’s caustic howl. Carter was a cult figure as the outrageously enigmatic frontman with Gallows before their 2011 split, and maintains a horde of followers from those days, in addition to those picked up during his time fronting the poppier tones of Pure Love. If they’re after a brutish catharsis, they’ll be feasting on this record, but the almost mellifluous production of the record deodorises the stink that should accompany the piss-soaked, serrated guitars, ultimately sanding down a product that should rip all in its path to pieces. Carter’s default psyche is an afflicted one, and his lyrics commenting on the migrant crisis typically don’t pull any punches. On the other hand, his first steps into a more ornate sound on Neon Rust is a welcome change.
[FIRST PUBLISHED ON NO RIPCORD]