Kolab Warning by Hijacker: A Drum n Bass Punch to the Face
Yo, let’s get one thing straight—Hijacker’s Kolab Warning ain’t for the faint-hearted. Released in ‘97 under Autoi in the UK, this album slams harder than a steel-toed boot to the gut. It’s raw, relentless, and dripping with that old-school Drum n Bass grit that makes you wanna smash something—or dance like your life depends on it. And yeah, there are only two tracks here ("Warning" and "Kolab"), but damn, they hit like a freight train.
First up, “Warning.” This track doesn’t mess around—it grabs you by the throat from the first beat. The bassline? Pure chaos. Like someone took an angry wasp nest and wired it into a synth. You can feel every pulse vibrating through your chest, forcing your feet to move whether you like it or not. What sticks with me is how unpredictable it feels. Just when you think you’ve got its rhythm figured out, BAM—it flips into some gnarly breakbeat that punches you right in the brain. No chill, no apologies. Love it or hate it, you won’t forget it.
Then there’s “Kolab,” which is basically the evil twin of “Warning.” If the first track kicks down the door, this one sets the whole house on fire. It’s darker, meaner, and packed with these eerie atmospheric layers that sound like ghosts fighting over a busted Atari console. The drops? Insane. They don’t just drop—they crash land like meteorites, leaving craters in their wake. I remember losing my mind the first time I heard it because it felt less like music and more like being chased through a dystopian jungle by cyborg wolves. Wild as hell.
Now, sure, this album might not be everyone’s cup of tea. Some folks will call it too abrasive, too chaotic, too… much. But honestly? That’s what makes it so good. It doesn’t care if you’re comfortable—it wants to shake you awake and remind you that Drum n Bass wasn’t always about polished festival anthems; sometimes, it was just pure, unfiltered aggression wrapped in razor-sharp beats.
Here’s the kicker though—listening to Kolab Warning today feels kinda weird. In a world obsessed with playlists and algorithms, this record stands out like a middle finger at a tea party. Maybe that’s why it still matters. Or maybe I’m just overthinking it while blasting “Warning” again at 3 AM. Either way, respect where it’s due.
