Everyone has that band that got them into music, or into a genre. And no matter how mediocre or revolutionary that band is, you'll always hold them as one of the greatest things ever recorded. Personally speaking, my first real dose of underground hardcore, thrash, crust, and pure wreckage is also a completely unsung band known as Run For Your Fucking Life. A band that gave absolutely no shits and simply set out to destroy everything in their path, including themselves.
I saw a biography on this band a long time ago back when MySpace was still a thing (remember those days?). The band page wasn't even up that long either. The little I remember of it went something like this: Run For Your Fucking Life was a hardcore band that existed from the late 90s until the early 2000s releasing only one full length on Gloom Records and a demo. The name came from the singer (whatever his name is) scribbling the phrase down on walls and public bathroom stalls. The band composed of a group of guys that didn't like each other much (or maybe they did and just fought a lot). Shows were often violent and seldom did the band finish a set, with fights breaking out between band members often. Add in drug issues and the band was doomed from the start. How did things end? Who cares? They moved on to other projects. I don't know what they were. The bio never said. And how much of this is true or accurate, only the band members really know. Take it with a grain of salt and realize I'm trying to remember something I read seven years ago.
Run For Your Fucking Life is one of those no bullshit bands. When it came to getting down to business there wasn't a moment wasted. The minute “Thirty Eight Milligrams” kicks in with its rapid drum break and guzzling guitar feedback, there's no going back. The vocals sound like they're spitting shrapnel as they break in, offering no apologies (literally). There could not be a more perfect way for the band to shove into action. Every sentence, every word, this band nails. From the defiance of the old school “My Dead Friends and Those Who May as Well Be Dead” to the blisteringly pissed off “Trust is a Good Concept in Theory”, to the three phrases in “88 Kid”, and the fuming “Scathed 2000”, the writing is simple but spot on with every lyric. It's violent, lurching, hateful, frustrated, condemning, and sadistic. Just reading them will leave your knuckles scraped and scabbed.
Instrumentally speaking, Run For Your Fucking Life isn't just a thrash attack with no variation. Despite the vitriol the band still has plenty of slowed down sections. The piece “Slow Veins” is a crushing crawl. Something you'd expect to see fifteen minutes after someone had their jaw smashed in with a baseball bat while having meth withdrawal. The guitar distortion is like crusted blood. It sounds like it flakes and peels. Songs like “Still Beating Heart / Sal Si Puedes” is like a building fight. Slow to start and hard hitting as the track pushes forth and runs at its opponent. It helps balance out the record through the sheer, skin stripping rage that progresses throughout. And all the while the anguished screams of the singer sound like they're echoing out of a dark back alleyway.
The raw elements that Run For Your Fucking Life incorporated feel lost in a lot of modern music. Their self-titled and demo pieces feel like a pure blast from the 80s. Songs like the aforementioned “Trust is a Good Concept in Theory” fuse elements of crust and thrash while other pieces like “88 Kid” are straight up old school hardcore/punk. Listening to the record over and over again, the end result feels like if Negative Approach and Heresy had a lovechild. But it feels fresh, not regurgitated. The band had some real, raw chemistry and every song they crafted was like a steel-toe kick in the teeth and a middle finger to follow.
Anytime I'm asked to name raw albums Run For Your Fucking Life is always the first thing that spurts out of my mouth. I'll never be able to get over how good this band was. Every chord struck on this album is slaughter and sweat. It's hard hitting, it isn't filled with a bunch of self-deprecating dark, broody, whiny bullshit that is so prevalent in modern music, it's not filled with bullshit abstract lyrics about flowers and skull fucking; it does one thing, it delivers absolutely destructive tendencies and won't take “no” for an answer. Hell, it won't even ask, it'll just punch you in the mouth instead. It's a band in its rawest, most abrasive hour, going for the throat, tearing out every tendon it can find, and spitting in your face.
Bottom line: if you're sick of seeing the “dark” label attached to a million bands screaming and bitching about being depressed from their diaries or lamenting how love always loses and beauty decays, then it's time to find a copy of Run For Your Fucking Life and understand what raw, gritty, abrasive hardcore can really be. As the band would say, “Fuck your beauty, you're human waste.”
Pick this up and kiss your sorry ass goodbye because this isn't an act. Shit's as real as it gets.
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