“Did you see that?” an exhilarated punter asks us after Trash Talk have finished their set. If by “that” he means singer Lee Spielman’s borderline suicidal, head-first leaps into the first row and the walls of the venue, bassist Spencer Pollard not so much playing but hitting his bass with the palm of his hand, or the audience’s complete and utter freak-out whenever the Californian foursome detonate one of their hardcore splinter grenades – then yes, yes we did. There’s also Spielman’s hollow-eyed stare at an enemy only visible to him and guitarist Garrett Stevenson’s muscular, almost panther-like stage demeanour that is mirrored in his merciless, razor-sharp riffing. Trash Talk’s toxic mix of old school hardcore punk, à la Circle Jerks, and the violent mosh fantasies of Napalm Death is not exactly accessible or pleasant, but the kids go absolutely apeshit for songs like the festering anthem of brutality that is ‘Walking Disease’, throwing themselves around Spielman’s neck and slamming into each other as if ribcages and wrists, like the rules of society, were meant to be broken. The band, especially Spielman, thrive on their audience, and feeding off each other, all of them whip themselves into a glorious, sweaty and unforgettable frenzy.
By Matthias Scherer
Originally published in issue 13 (vol 3) of Loud And Quiet. December 2009