A word of caution: Dwid Hellion, Integrity’s vocalist and sole constant member, is not a man you want to fuck with. He’s not one for chit-chat; lend him the floor in an interview and he will go full Aleister Crowley, framing his nearly thirty-year career as an ceaseless campaign to rub the world the wrong way. “I am that moment when you would give anything to have a second chance, when everything has fallen away, hope has been lost, nothing is left to lose and when you start auditioning religions just in the distant hope that someone, something hears your cry and turns back the hands on the clock,” he proclaimed to the underground music blog Blow the Scene, in 2010. Between his deep admiration for Charles Manson (he’s released the serial killer’s music through his label); his fascination with the Church of Holy Terror, a satanic cult; and that one time he allegedly nailed a human ear to someone’s door; Dwid easily stands as one of heavy music’s most incendiary figures, the G.G. Allin of modern hardcore.
Undoubtedly, the frontman’s masterful trolling catalyzed the Cleveland band’s rise to infamy in the late ’80s and early ’90s. Nevertheless, Integrity’s reputation as fire-starters is ultimately overshadowed by their role in shaping metallic hardcore as we know it. Without their revolutionary fusion of punk, metal, and noise–captured spectacularly on 1995’s magnum opus Humanity Is the Devil–bands like Converge, Full of Hell, Code Orange, and Hatebreed may never have existed.
With their new album Howling, for the Nightmare Shall Consume, Integrity have offered definitive proof of their staying power as hardcore’s resident apocalyptic poets. As with much of the band’s discography, the group’s latest effort it is a concept album, a timely one at that; It details the final days of humanity’s long, slow march to Armageddon, a blood-spattered tableau populated by burning corpses (“Burning Beneath the Devils Cross”), demonic serpents (“Serpent of the Crossroads”), and false messiahs (“Unholy Salvation of Sabbatai Zevi”), among other terrifying characters.
The End of Days being the sublime tragedy to end all tragedies, it’s only fair that Dwid and company mine the murkiest depths so as to ensure that its ecstasies are properly expressed. Its 11 tracks and assorted bonuses play out as a march through the circles of sonic hell, with Dwid as our yawping, spitting guide. The record opens with a cold blast of Scandinavian air (“Fallen to Destroy,” “Blood Sermon,” a punishing two-parter wherein guitarist Dom Romeo unloads a clip of piercing, winding riffs à la Darkthrone). After cranking up the heat with some molten beat-downs (“Hymn for the Children of the Black Flame”, “Die With Your Boots on”), Integrity pivot to anguished long-form, the album’s evil, epic heart: the sludgy “Serpent of the Crossroads,” which contrasts Dwid’s gravelly screams with Dom’s lithe, slithering fretwork.
As always, Integrity’s affinity for chaos supplies much of Howling’s latent gravitas, especially on the first few listens. The record’s lurching pace is powered by a bludgeoning type of bait-and-switch mechanic; For every extended, arduous trudge through the trenches, there’s a shot of good, unclean fun: “Die With Your Boots on”, “Burning Beneath the Devils Cross” and “String Up My Teeth” are three of the catchiest songs the band ever wrote, ragers situated halfway between Motörhead and Morbid Angel. Spin it a few more times, though, and a more disciplined, arcing dynamic emerges: a meticulous dynamic blueprint as old as the Book of Revelation, even man himself. Every temple, no matter how arcane, needs a structure–not just in terms of brick and mortar, but of spirit. Judging from Howling, for the Nightmare Shall Consume, that foundation isn’t just well-intact—it’s impenetrable.
