Megavore has been granted temporary anonymous status as an official SLUG reviewer. They had me review Cursed's latest album, III:
Cursed = Cast Iron Hike, Cobra Noir, Converge
Cursed know how to brand woebegone hardcore. They are skilled in the ways of subversively satanic iconography, immoral typeface, and the “I should probably go to therapy cause I’m so messed up but instead I make creepy music” schtick. Moreover, they've maintained a keen awareness of nuanced hardcore authenticity that has elitists like me slowly nodding with approval. On III, Cursed plug in their Voxs, crawl into a dark (and probably totally haunted) basement, and cough up some thick and dirty audio. They’ve toned down their sometimes silly caricature-like horror aesthetic, and the cocksure hardcore rockabilly swagger of previous albums in place of a more no-nonsense, concentrated demonstration of a multifarious antipathy that is (perhaps at times too) reminiscent of Converge. I feel like Cursed is leading me further into their (still totally haunted) mansion of sound, and there are rooms yet worth exploring.
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