I’ve been reading about the atrocities in Ukraine as I listen to Anti-Colonial, Vol. 2. Let’s just say that every act of imperialism is unique but combining listening to this record definitely highlights the brutal impact when a state tries to conquer a people. This record isn’t just political hardcore. It seethes with anger and inherited trauma. It’s a fucking bloodletting. After a Spanish language spoken intro, we get a brutal, throat shredding English snippet to kick things into high gear: “Not here/ Never, never, never again.”
La Armada have been playing music together since 2000, and the band has grown in that time (as well as relocating from their native Dominican Republic to Chicago, IL). Hardcore by genre, there are guitar-heavy moments, punk vitriol, Caribbean rhythms and more global sounds that make their presence known in between beatdowns. This is metallic, chugging hardcore: head boppers instead of frenzy. It’s sharp, it’s pointed, and it hurts your throat to listen to Casper Torres roar. The lyrics bounce between English and Spanish and, similarly, the melodic flow shifts frequently (but smoothly). It can be fluid and catchy, or harsh and unforgiving. Something about Torres’ delivery reminds me of Zach de la Rocha, moving from speak to sing to shout and back again, carrying the transitions in his bellowing. Meanwhile the tempo is more akin to Modern Life Is War, though with more metallic flourishes.
The rhythm section defines much of the tone on the record: brooding and punishing darkness with guitar textures moving it forward and song structures that are far more detailed than your overage hardcore band. It’s a big sound, but it comes from the shadows. At times it has a dreamlike, spiritual quality.
Overall, the 11 songs here fit together extremely smoothly, united by consistent production that melds pummeling beats with more diverse instrumental movements. The structures are well established by the time we reach “Los Muertos,” but I want to call out the saxophone solo in this song, which absolutely shatters and expectations of the hardcore genre. It’s one of those, “I didn’t see that coming -- but I absolutely should have,” moments. Then a tribal chant tune, “Nu Bu Wa Carib” reflects for a moment before the pummeling “Gun Nation” interludes. “All We Know” is a personal favorite, defined by rhythmic flow that bobs back and forth at the start, building to a wall of sound and back.
Fans of political heavy music of any style should check this out, but it should also appeal to musically adventurous listeners who appreciate songcraft with concise songwriting. There’s a lot to absorb here, but it’s packaged in three-minute songs that come as a burst instead of a tome.
The band self-released this album in the US, with help from Thousand Islands (Canada) and Lockjaw (EU/UK).
