Big knuckle-dragging riffs, menacing, pounding breakdowns and huge scream-along choruses — the debut release from hardcore “supergroup” Afraid To Die is engineered with one primary objective, and one method for achieving it, get the blood coursing through the body.
There’s no slow burn, no gentle introduction, no attempt to ease the listener in. From the first seconds it’s clear exactly what this EP sets out to do, and to its credit it accomplishes that mission with unapologetic force.Self-confessed 90s/00s hardcore worship as their descriptor doesn’t get much more accurate. Afraid To Die wear their influences like a badge of honour, and in most ways you’ll know exactly what to expect going in on their debut EP, Hell Is A Place In My Mind.
This is fight music. It’s music to spin-kick into someone’s face to, music for two-stepping in the pit and stage diving without a second thought. It gives you everything you want out of a hardcore record in bunches and then throws in a little extra weight for good measure. There’s a familiarity to the sound, but it never tips over into tired or derivative; it feels more like a loving reconstruction of a formula, that whilst it has never needed fixing, lends itself so well to being sharpened and refined or broken down completely in chaos and we have a little bit of both here. The quality is there to justify such shameless idol worship though; they’re not ripping off the greats, they’re paying homage to them.
“It gives you everything you want out of a hardcore record”
It’s big, it’s blunt, and it sure as shit isn’t trying to be clever. There’s no hidden layers or conceptual smoke and mirrors — everything is laid bare with zero apologies. When the riffs hit as hard as they do here, you simply don’t need to mess around with unnecessary embellishments. The guitars stomp and lurch forward like hulking giants, throwing their gargantuan weight around without a care for anyone’s safety, while the vocals cut through with pure venom and intent.
Like all the best hardcore, this EP is built for the live show. You can practically smell the sweat of a cramped dive venue while listening, the anticipation building before a guttural mosh call sends bodies colliding. It’s raw, physical and immediate — a release designed less for passive listening and more for collective catharsis. If you’re looking for something refined or boundary-pushing you won’t find it here, but if you want to let loose, rage and feel the floor shake beneath your feet, Afraid To Die deliver a standout debut that knows exactly what it is and revels in it.