Ripping Thrash 30: A Gritty, High-Octane Love Letter to UK Underground Rock
If you’re into raw, unfiltered chaos that punches you in the face and spits on your shoes, Ripping Thrash 30 by Various is probably already on your radar. Released in 2017 under the Ripping Thrash/Mut label, this album is a wild ride through thrash, crust, hardcore, and punk—genres that don’t mess around. It’s like a mosh pit exploded onto a CD (or whatever streaming service you use these days). And honestly? We kinda love it for that.
Let’s talk about two tracks that stuck with me like gum on a boot. First up: “Sky Burial On Warton Crag.” This one grabs you by the collar from the first riff. Imagine standing on some windswept hillside in the UK while someone screams their guts out over blast beats so fast they might give you whiplash. The track has this eerie vibe but still manages to feel oddly uplifting—if "uplifting" means wanting to punch capitalism in the throat. You can tell it was recorded with zero fucks given, which makes it all the more real.
Then there’s “Kill All Humans.” Yeah, I know, the title sounds like something an angsty teenager would doodle in a notebook during math class—but damn if this song doesn’t deliver. It's relentless, angry, and dripping with black humor. The vocals alternate between guttural growls and snarling shouts, making you feel like humanity really does deserve what’s coming its way—or at least a good slap upside the head. By the time the feedback fades out, you’re left wondering whether you should laugh, cry, or just scream along too.
What makes Ripping Thrash 30 stand out isn’t just the music itself—it’s the attitude. Every track feels like a middle finger to conformity, a rallying cry for anyone who’s ever felt pissed off at the world and decided to channel that rage into something loud and messy. Tracks like “Patriotic Masturbation” and “Mothers Bury Their Sons Again” hit hard not because they’re technically perfect but because they’re brutally honest. These aren’t polished pop anthems; they’re jagged edges meant to cut deep.
And let’s not forget where this beast came from—the UK underground scene. There’s something special about albums born out of small labels like Ripping Thrash/Mut. They carry a sense of rebellion that bigger productions often lack. Listening to this record feels like being invited to a secret show in someone’s garage, except now it’s global. Weird flex, right?
Here’s the thing though: as much as I dig this album, it ain’t for everyone. If you’re looking for catchy hooks or radio-friendly tunes, you’ll be sorely disappointed. But if you crave intensity, grit, and lyrics sharp enough to draw blood, then buckle up. Oh, and maybe grab a helmet—you’re gonna need it.
So yeah, Ripping Thrash 30. It’s chaotic, it’s loud, and it’s got more patches than brains (literally, there’s a song called that). But most importantly, it reminds us why we fell in love with rock in the first place: because sometimes life sucks, and when it does, nothing helps quite like screaming back at it. Now excuse me while I go listen to “Honesty” ironically…
