Tire Fire’s Self-Titled Debut: A Chaotic, Unrelenting Blast of Grindcore Fury
If you’re into music that hits harder than a caffeine crash on a Monday morning, Tire Fire’s self-titled album from 2018 might just be your new favorite thing. This US-based grindcore and power violence outfit doesn’t mess around—they come out swinging with raw energy, lo-fi grit, and an attitude that screams “we don’t care what you think.” Released independently under their own label (because why bother with the suits?), this record is as DIY as it gets.
The album kicks off with "Midlife Crisis," a track that feels like getting sucker-punched by existential dread while simultaneously laughing at how absurd life can be. It’s short—like, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it short—but man, does it pack a punch. The riffs are relentless, the vocals sound like they were recorded in the middle of a tornado, and there’s this weird sense of catharsis that sneaks up on you. You know those moments when you’re stuck in traffic or dealing with some dumb work email, and all you wanna do is scream? Yeah, this song gets that.
Then there’s "This Party Is Deader Than Chris Kyle," which is exactly as unhinged as its title suggests. The track barrels forward like a runaway shopping cart, full of breakneck drumming and screeching guitars that feel like they’re falling apart at the seams. There’s something oddly satisfying about how chaotic it is—it’s not trying to impress anyone; it just wants to tear the roof off. Plus, I gotta admit, the sheer audacity of naming a song after such a provocative phrase makes me chuckle every time I hear it.
Now, let’s talk about the alternate version of "Midlife Crisis." At first glance, it feels unnecessary—why include two versions of the same song? But here’s the thing: hearing them back-to-back kinda works. It’s like revisiting an argument but seeing it from another angle. Same anger, different tone. And honestly, isn’t that what grindcore’s all about? Repetition with slight tweaks until you find meaning in the chaos?
What sticks with me most about Tire Fire is how unapologetically messy it is. These guys aren’t aiming for perfection—they’re aiming for impact. They hit you hard, fast, and leave you breathless, like that one friend who always shows up late to parties but somehow steals the show anyway. Sure, the production quality could use a boost, and yeah, the whole thing clocks in at less than 15 minutes, but sometimes brevity is the soul of wit—or in this case, brutality.
Final thought: If you listen to this album and don’t immediately want to start a mosh pit in your living room, are you even alive? Tire Fire reminds us that music doesn’t have to be polished to resonate—it just has to burn bright and fast, like… well, a tire fire.
