Album Review: Troppo Tardi by Link Lärm – A Raw Italian Hardcore Punk Gem
Released in 1984, Troppo Tardi by Link Lärm is a gritty punch to the gut of complacency, delivering exactly what you’d expect from an Italian hardcore punk record of its era. This debut album, released independently under the “Not On Label” banner, captures the raw energy and rebellious spirit that defined the underground rock scene in Italy during the early '80s. With tracks like “Odio La Gente” and “Hiroshima,” this record isn’t just music—it’s a manifesto.
The lineup behind Troppo Tardi is tight-knit yet explosive: Flavio on bass lays down grooves that feel both chaotic and controlled; Alli’s drumming hammers home rhythms with relentless precision; Andrea shreds guitar riffs that scream frustration and defiance; and Bob’s vocals? They’re raw, unhinged, almost spat out with venom. Each track feels like a live performance, as if they recorded it in one take while the world was burning outside.
Let’s talk about “Odio La Gente.” If there’s one song that sticks with me, it’s this one. The title translates to “I Hate People,” and man, does it deliver on that promise. From the opening riff, you know you’re in for something aggressive. It’s not just the anger here—it’s the way Bob spits out every word like he’s fed up but can’t stop screaming about it. You don’t need to speak Italian to feel the weight of his disdain. By the time the chorus hits, it’s less of a song and more of a primal release. I found myself replaying it because, honestly, who hasn’t felt that misanthropic itch at some point?
Then there’s “Hiroshima.” This track slows things down just enough to let the gravity of its subject sink in. It’s haunting without being overly sentimental, relying instead on heavy instrumentation and sparse vocals to evoke the devastation of war. Andrea’s guitar work here is particularly memorable—those eerie chords linger long after the track ends. Listening to it feels like staring at old black-and-white photos of destruction, forcing you to confront uncomfortable truths. It’s not easy listening, but that’s kinda the point.
Other standout tracks include “Disgregazione” (a chaotic anthem of societal collapse) and “Vacanze Mentali” (which channels manic energy into biting commentary). Even shorter cuts like “Senatore” pack a punch, proving that Link Lärm knows how to make every second count. There’s no filler here—just pure, unfiltered rage and rebellion.
What makes Troppo Tardi so special isn’t just its sound—it’s the attitude. These guys weren’t trying to polish their music or appeal to mainstream audiences. They were pissed off, disillusioned, and ready to call out everyone from corrupt politicians (“Politicanti”) to oppressive systems (“Lavoro Forzato”). And yeah, maybe the production quality is lo-fi, but that only adds to its authenticity. It’s real, messy, and imperfect—like life itself.
Reflecting on this album, I’m struck by how relevant it still feels today. Sure, it came out nearly four decades ago, but the themes of alienation, anti-establishment fervor, and existential dread are timeless. Maybe that’s why Troppo Tardi stuck with me—it doesn’t offer solutions, just catharsis. Or maybe it’s because, deep down, we all kinda hate people sometimes. Either way, give this album a spin if you want to feel alive—even if it’s through gritted teeth.
Oh, and hey—if anyone tells you punk is dead, slap ‘em with a copy of this record.
