Hear this now. Fucked Up.

Fucked Up is ostensibly a hardcore band from Toronto Canada, but that's really no descriptor for their sound. Though their vocal barks and howls certainly bring to mind hardcore groups, they frequently use female guest vocals for more melodic choruses, and their song lengths hardly fall squarely into the two-minute hardcore rant range. It's no wonder they can comfortably share a stage and a label with Mission of Burma. (See: the Williamsburg Waterfront show in NYC in July)

Man, that is Fucked Up.

Roger's sunglasses can see everything, even the future.

In fact, I came to Fucked Up through Mission of Burma, seeing that both were on Matador records. Their songs don't sound very similar, but the same ethos runs through both bands in totally different and exciting ways.

Mission of Burma's fastest songs and hardest material suggest hardcore, psychedelia, art rock, even heavy metal from time to time. (Fun World is pretty metallic, you could say.) Their anthems are pop-pretty, but ragged, impassioned, sophisticated, and intelligent. Geek punk for those too rational to be angry, but too dissatisfied to just sit down and shut up. I've already waxed poetic on these guys before, so, long story short, they're smart, they rock, kickass bass lines, fuck yeah.

Fucked Up have cultivated mystery and invited controversy since their inception. Their records sport fascist imagery on the sleeve. They take pseudonyms like Mustard Gas, 10,000 Marbles, Pink Eyes, and Concentration Camp. Interviews with the members of Fucked Up have contained incredible distortions and bizarre tall tales told to further the mystery of the group's identities.

Their music is explosive and highly conceptual, combining whip-smart lyrics and hardcore's usual forward-lunging bam-thwok with obtuse arrangements and unexpected moments galore (lounge music, flute solos, strings and whistling). If hardcore bands wrote epic prog-rock anthems... well, I guess now they do.

They've got a style all their own, energy to spare, humor and intellect, and a charismatic front... thing.

Remember how Henry Rollins ate your children? This is the guy that got your dog.

Pink Eyes, a.k.a Damien, is a woolly, growling man-beast who loves puppies, smiles at the laughter of children, and is no doubt a productive member of society. But, just to be careful, stay far away from this man. You just never know. He might just emit the first vocal from this song, then kill you.