The manosphere, one of the most culturally destructive and mentally bankrupt movements on the face of the earth, is something that has completely undone any advancements made in respecting women and, you know, not wanting to destroy their lives or actively hurt them. It hasn’t been an easy path for women in our society, and we’ve taken steps back.

Records such as “Manslayer” should not have to exist any longer, but Brat is aware that they must, and this 17-track killer is packed with vitriol, violence (admittedly sometimes of the comical variety), and vengeance, mauling you with glee for 39 minutes. The band—vocalist Liz Selfish, guitarist Brenner Moate, bassist Ian Hennessey, drummer Dustin Eagan—mixes death and grind into this battle axe of a record that takes matters into their own hands to right some wrongs, even if in artistic form. Blood is shed, bodies are mangled, and there is no room for mercy for those who have made women’s lives hell and are propped up by a movement of people who won’t stop until they meet fire.

“Intro” buzzes in, a Aileen Wuornos quote warped to hell, chugging and trudging into … “Aileen Wuornos.” Obviously it rips, Selfish’s deep howls digging into your chest, the heat melting as things grow mucky and even more violent. “Speculum Bleed” rings in your ears, mangling as the vocals smear, the drums pummel, and Selfish wails, “Entrails spilling through the orifice.” Riffs cut as the playing turns gnarly, exploding and thrashing away. “Bone Spurs” is a recording from a doctor reporting on results of an X-ray of an injury apparently caused by headbanging. “Botch Tox” ignites and mashes faces, the vocals scrape, and the guitars generate heat. The playing takes off as feedback swells, the drums crumbling walls. “Media Slop” opens with drums attacking, cement-thick violence, and utter speed delivering ferocity. The tempo brawls as the power scars, a pummeling hardcore-style steamrolling. “Trophy Hunting” clubs, start/stop thrashing jerks necks, and the force bludgeons, Selfish snarling, “Pull the fucking trigger!” A breakdown smokes as sludge leads gut, the drums wreck, and the final moments burst. “Asking for Hell” squalls as the bass and drums crumble, and grisly madness cuts through midsections, the heat building menacingly. Twin leads glow as the pace erupts, taking off and strangling. “Heretic Burning” clubs with thick bass, crushing vocals, and bendy guitars, the energy glowing with nuclear horror. Screams blaze as chunky leads thicken veins, the title howled as everything burns into a pile of ash.

“Interlude” is a synth bath with news reports echoing about a man having been murdered, sounds pulsing and darting as everything pours into “Manslayer (Hell Hath No Fury).” The pace crushes as growls engorge, Selfish warning, “Watch your back, you’ve been forewarned.” The power guts as the chaos muscles, burying victims up to their necks.  “Bloody Mary” is a quick one that makes its force felt, riffs churning as gang shouts echo, Selfish retching, the band utterly brutalizing before offering temporarily mercy. “Femicidal Vengeance” features David Davidson of Revocation, and the playing energizes, ripping the ground apart, slashing as the drumming pounds, screams warping minds. Humidity builds as guitars sprawl, and molecules come apart and blast into space. “Spit on His Grave” attacks and wrestles you to the ground, pointed elbows driving at your temples, group vocals activating blood. The playing fires up even harder, Selfish hacks spit from her diaphragm, and noise crackle, pummeling to the end. “Ways to Kill Your Husband” has leads stretching and dominating, the bass applying a variety of chokeholds, and the storming completely decimating and leaving your body writhing. “Blistered Tongues” includes vocals from Candace Buckingham of Walls of Jericho, and this catches fire instantly, dual vocals scraping throats, guitars taking off as things get more muscular. The pace slows but refuses to relent its heaviness, guitars reengage in battle, and the vocals stampede, leaving everything a bloody paste. “Outro” is awash in spacious sounds, creating a strange transmission that feels eerie and alien, everything drowning in a buzz.

Brat’s vitriol, as comical as it can be at times, is more channeled than ever on “Manslayer,” a ferocious blast of grind and death here to maim. Yes, a lot of the violence feels slasher film level, which is by design, but it never undercuts the real anger and frustration built into these tracks. As a human man, I don’t get how women can tolerate us even in our better times, so I can only imagine the blood boiling in the worst of times, when a lot of the schemes in these songs could come to life.

For more on the band, go here: https://brat504.bandcamp.com/

To buy the album, go here: https://shop.prostheticrecords.com/collections/brat

For more on the label, go here: https://prostheticrecords.com/