I’ve no idea who POB are other than they probably hail from the Crimea. I’ve also no idea what they are singing about as I didn’t have anyone from that part of the world handy to do a translation. However, that does not really matter as these six short songs – only one breaches the two minute barrier – are about as fine an example of aggression fuelled hardcore punk as you will likely find.
With the volume turned right up – and if you haven’t done so, you will have done so by the end of the first song – the sheer ferocity of this band’s performance is nothing less than inspirational. The guitars are a solid wall of anger, the drums nothing but a club to split your skull and the voice, the voice. This isn’t singing. This is anguish expressed in sound and catapulted at you in a bucket of boiling oil. There is no choice in the matter - your flesh will burn off your bones.
Bands like POB don’t ever sell out. They might, however, go to jail.
Available on cassette and for download from Bandcamp.