These Pittsburgh area thrashers played with all the subtlety of a shotgun blast to the nuts. This screechy, treble-y New Renaissance Records release was made for hardcore thrash lovers only. Even then, I can’t imagine the hardiest of thrash fans ever having Holocross in heavy rotation.
On Holocross, the drummer relentlessly assaults his snare drum on every beat, while the guitarist spews mangled, god-awful lead breaks along the way. The singer re-invents himself on almost every song. Sometimes he’s a shouter, other times a screamer — heck, he’s even a singer now and again. Pretty impressive, actually. Bless their souls, Holocross wanted nothing more than to splatter your brain matter with a shovel full of THRASH. That said, I have no plans to listen to this album ever again. My score: D