Review Summary: Hello.
Anger, the 2006 debut record by California hardcore punk band Dangers, lives up to its name by being the angriest album ever recorded. It is so ***ing angry, in fact, that most other 'angry' albums feel contrived or hamfisted in comparison. Singer Alfred Brown IV is being dragged into adulthood kicking and screaming; his unrestrained tirades throughout
Anger's 23-minute run-time perfectly epitomizes how dutiful teenage angst matures into educated rage, which Brown has aimed directly at the cops, punk rock, everyday dickheads, mundane Thursdays, capitalism, xenophobes, the Iraq War, and growing old with unabashed and unequal fury. The diversity of topics can be overwhelming on first listen, but the true strength of
Anger is that the diversity, and quality, of the music is perfectly attuned to the sporadic ranting of Brown. "Power Chord Blues," a mocking polemic against The Clash selling out, ends on the album's catchiest moment, a pop-punk, power chord chorus. Blistering riffs carry the senseless brutality of early highlight, "A Missed Chance for a Meaningful Abortion," while "Half-Brother, All Cop" slows briefly, so Brown can voice a vitriolic denouncement, before descending into marching rhythms over gang-vocals championing anti-authoritarianism. Every song is effective, and the band effortlessly skips between the sub-genres of punk as each song demands.
That said,
Anger lulls slightly in the middle. While "Break Beat" serves its purpose as a bookend to the first-half of the album, the presence of only Brown and the drummer, Rollie Ulug, becomes stale and gimmicky by the end, and I never return to it unless I am listening to
Anger in full. Otherwise, the only real weaknesses of
Anger are the pointless phone call skits at the end of "AMCfaMA" and "Gashing In." They are mildly entertaining on first listen, but a 23-minute hardcore album should never devote a minute-and-a-half of its runtime to skits. Even more egregiously, "Gashing In" directly follows "AMCfaMA," which means that "Gashing In" feels more like an interlude between skits than a song itself. Fortunately,
Anger refrains from skits after this point, but they still become a burden on repeat listens.
The final stretch of
Anger is essentially flawless, however, and if I had any reason to criticize
Anger it would be to lend myself credibility before I absolutely fanboy over how ***ing awesome these final songs are. Every track from "War? What War?" to "We Have More Sense Than Lies" is absolutely overflowing with riffs, rants, rage, and all the other hardcore goodness you could ever need. "War?" is an anthemic diatribe against American soldiers who kill for warhawks, bolstered by the most dynamic riffing on the album; "The Great Wall of California" is sporadic and blazing, with Ulug's excellent drumming driving catchy melodies and indulgent break-downs; "Naysayer" makes excellent use of a Converge bass-line to recite a blasphemous, and hilarious, rendition of a nursery rhyme before fading into feedback. Finally, from that feedback arises the crowd-killing riff-fest "(D)anger(s)", the slowest and heaviest song on
Anger. Unlike the rest of
Anger, "(D)anger(s)" takes its time building its riff, just enough for Brown's scream of "WE'RE FULL OF ***!" to puncture a perfect break and release the plodding behemoth. It releases the tension built by the frenetic chaos of the previous songs perfectly, and you might break your neck from headbanging.
With just thirteen songs,
Anger has covered more ground and been angry about more things than any punk album since
Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables, but Dangers have one last trick up their sleeve. The closer, "We Have More Sense Than Lies," gives
Anger purpose, contextualizes every moment of frothing rage, and leaves the listener with something deeper than aimless fury. For the first thirteen songs, the main quality separating Dangers' rage from young adult angst has been Brown's authenticity. "WHMSTL", however, offers the listener a point of reflection to revisit
Anger through. Chants of "Nothing changes if we don't change ourselves" on the bridge burn themselves into the listener's mind, and every subsequent replay reinforces Dangers' philosophy that anger is the catalyst of growth. "Power Chord Blues" revolts against punk rock norms while remaining enslaved to the power chord, using the band’s anger to effortlessly revitalize a tired formula; meanwhile, "My Wonder Years Never Got Cancelled" reflects on how youthful laziness drives anger against oneself into self-actualization and maturity, while grappling with all the frustrations that come from not being there quite yet. In an era where commercialization had sanded punk of every edge,
Anger was, in many ways, an antidote. It serves as a stepping stone, an album for young adults still holding tightly to their teenage angst, terrified of the succumbing to the droll decay of adult apathy. Dangers show another way, one where the listener reflects on their anger, comes to understand which relationships – whether social and institutional – cause it, and takes agency of the change they want to see in the world. From the individual level, to the institutional and the cultural level, Dangers have thought a lot about what makes them angry; they think you should too. I think you should listen to their album first.
