Head Wound City - A New Wave Of Violence (LP)

A New Wave of Violence is the rare reunion-era record that doesn’t just cash in on nostalgia but feels like a challenge thrown across the room. Head Wound City, the supergroup made up of Jordan Blilie and Cody Votolato from The Blood Brothers, Justin Pearson and the late Gabe Serbian from The Locust, and Nick Zinner from Yeah Yeah Yeahs, finally delivered their first full-length on May 13, 2016 through Vice Records. The pedigree is wild, but the album’s real thrill is how locked-in it sounds. No bloat, no hedging. Just a sharp, 20-something-minute storm that remembers why short albums often hit the hardest.

If you grew up on the yelp and yowl of The Blood Brothers, hearing Blilie rip through these songs feels like running into an old friend who hasn’t lost a step. He and Pearson tag-team the vocals like a knife fight, switching from flayed screeches to gutter bark with almost comic timing. Zinner and Votolato twist out guitars that squeal, clang, and scythe, giving the record a wiry, metallic character that’s different from each of their main gigs yet clearly informed by them. And Serbian’s drumming is just ferocious. He hits with punk speed and grindcore precision, then drops into tumbling fills that feel like the floor giving way. It’s a performance fans still talk about, and this album is a brutal, living document of it.

The band worked with producer Ross Robinson, and you can hear the live-amp heat he’s famous for. Guitars feel like they’re inches from the mic. The bass gnaws at the edges. Drums sit loud in the room rather than tucked behind a safety net of polish. It’s the kind of production that rewards volume. On a decent system the kick thumps your sternum. On headphones it’s a pressure cooker. If you spin A New Wave of Violence vinyl, that grit and impact really comes through, the cymbals spraying like shrapnel while the low end keeps the chaos grounded.

Several singles paved the way for the record’s release. Scraper was the calling card, a hooky blaster that proved this wasn’t just a one-off nostalgia lap. Old Age Takes Too Long arrived too, with press coverage that made clear how much attention the reunion was attracting. Critics at places like Pitchfork and Stereogum noted the chemistry, and you could hear why. The songs kick hard but they also stick. Choruses claw back into your brain while the riffs keep shape-shifting, more neon-lit alleyway than relentless blur.

What I love about this album is how it threads the needle between scenes. There’s West Coast powerviolence in the speed, a dash of no wave abrasion in Zinner’s squalls, and that theatrical Blood Brothers drama in the vocal trade-offs. Pearson’s knack for acerbic slogans pops up, but the band never leans on shock for its own sake. The title telegraphs the mood. This is music for when everything feels overheated and frayed, yet it carries a crooked grin, like the band knows that noise can be cleansing.

The pacing helps. Head Wound City keeps each track lean, so even the nastiest ideas never outstay their welcome. The sequencing is smart too. Just when you think the record is about to collapse under speed, a mid-tempo churn arrives and the rhythms lurch in a way that makes the next blast hit even harder. It’s an old hardcore trick, but they put their stamp on it, and Zinner’s ear for texture gives the churns extra color.

As a document of a specific moment, the album lands with some poignancy now. Serbian’s drumming was a force across The Locust, Cattle Decapitation, and more, and his work here sounds possessed. The record captures him in full command, pushing the band into the red but keeping the swing alive. You feel musicians who know each other’s angles, cutting and parrying without ever looking down.

For collectors, it’s an easy recommendation. Head Wound City vinyl doesn’t flood bins the way their main bands do, so when you see A New Wave of Violence vinyl, grab it. If you like to buy Head Wound City records online, you’ll usually find copies through indie shops and marketplace sellers. I’ve seen it pop up at more than one Melbourne record store, and a few vinyl records Australia sites have carried it on and off, which says something about how far this small, savage record traveled.

Supergroups often sound like meetings. This sounds like a band. It’s concise, vicious, and weirdly fun, the kind of album you throw on before a night out or after a day that needs steam blown off. Head Wound City albums on vinyl aren’t plentiful, but this one earns its shelf space, and it still feels hot to the touch when the needle lifts.