Drinking, fighting, moshing—in short, wandering through a world of insane partying. I must say, I’ve only recently discovered these guys; damn, where was my head before? At a Testament show, I saw a beautiful girl wearing a Municipal Waste shirt, and I thought, I’ve been hearing their name for a while, time to check them out. The Art of Partying is an album I got through that route. These prolific crossover maniacs from Virginia deliver razor-sharp, lightning-fast thrash tracks that embody total destruction. Positioned somewhere between Exodus, Sacred Reich, Suicidal Tendencies, and S.O.D, these crazy bastards wrote songs on this album that live up to its title—full of party spirit, fun, and riffs that drown you in a sea of thrash-punk fury aimed at tearing your face off.
Tracklist:
Pre-Game
The Art Of Partying
Headbanger Face Rip
Mental Shock
A.D.D. (Attention Defecit Destroyer)
The Inebriator
Lunch Hall Food Brawl
Beer Pressure
Chemically Altered
Sadistic Magician
Open Your Mind
Radioactive Force
Septic Detonation
Rigorous Vengeance
Born To Party
First off, the album cover—this is pure thrash madness. Zombies in full-on thrash national uniform. Honestly, it’s one of my favorite album covers ever. The album itself is a real headache—once you start, you feel almost obligated to listen through all 15 songs. Compared to their previous albums, the tracks here tend to be longer, and the songs are so perfectly crafted and cohesive that guitarist Ryan Waste feels like he’s shredding you personally. My musical tastes usually lean toward more technical stuff, but I never felt out of place with this album. These guys have such mastery over their instruments that sometimes I found myself wondering about the exact tempo during certain riff breaks—like in The Inebriator or Lunch Hall Food Brawl.
The choir-style vocals in Sadistic Magician, as if a gang is shouting together, blew me away. Many songs feature parts that will surely appeal to ‘80s hardcore fans. Bottom line: these guys really know their craft. A special shoutout to vocalist Tony Foresta, whose angry hardcore screams completely wreck. Man, a voice can’t be more destructive than his, and in this latest album, both vocals and sound have been mixed and polished even better. Hearing this blast from the speakers, coupled with David Witte’s relentless drumming, I feel like grabbing my guitar and jumping on stage. Full throttle pogo, no breaks—this album is fire. Hats off to those who create, release, and bring albums like this to us. Much respect and health to all.