I am, by nature, a pessimist. My glass has always been half empty, I’m not given to joyfulness, experience has taught that there’s no such thing as a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow and that the Universe in all of its divine wisdom and for whatever reason it sees fit, favours some members of our species over others. Smiling doesn’t come easily to me and the things that make me happy are few and far between. So when one of those elusive things that makes my blackened heart whoop and holler with glee crosses my path, I tend to cling to it tightly and not let go. And boys and girls, Wasteland is one of those things that makes me very, very happy.
Ninetynine play the sort of bruising, pit ready Hardcore that makes me want to bust out my best old man dance moves and pretend that I can still hang on the dancefloor with kids half my age who aren’t beset and plagued by a never-ending series of nagging, life-long injuries. If Johnny Miller from Straight Faced fronted Rykers and they played Sick Of It All influenced New York Hardcore, then they’d sound exactly like Ninetynine do. Yeah, these cats are that good and then some. It’s slamming time… Tim Cundle