The Blood Royale

"Left for dead," roars Lost Well doorman Timo Corken in "Victims of Roadside Attack," point song on the first full-length by Austin's Blood Royale. Unleashing blind fury, he promises payback will be a b-i-t-c-h. Blurring the line between blackened punk and metalcore, the emulsifying frontman and his not-so-merry band of marauders (including Dixie Witch string-smasher JT Smith and Mala Suerte skin pounder John Petri) mainline enough rage and loathing to strangle a white privilege denier. TBR aims its crossbow at politicians ("The Final Solution"), demagogues ("Evangelical Conbustion"), and police academies ("Officer Factory"), piercing its targets with barbed razors and a rabid snarl. Ire seethes over onto less defined targets, all around hate hammering "Going Down to Die" and "Blackout the Sun." "Instruments of War" dispenses with language entirely, channeling inchoate rage into a freight train of chest-pummeling power rock. "Anger is an energy," Johnny Rotten once yowled, meaning the Blood Royale will never need recharging.