Too many hardcore heroes have traded middle-finger-in-the-air individuality for anonymous mediocrity. Not so Raised Fist. There’s an infectious quirkiness about the Swedish quintet surely ingrained by the endless summer days and winter nights on the verge of the Arctic Circle. Combining the righteous power of Stick To Your Guns, the energy of Refused, and the dry wit of Propagandhi and the roof-raising simplicity of Disturbed, Anthems – their first album in four years – unloads with a hit and miss boisterousness that occasionally veers into ridiculous but never fails to entertain. Veering from the pounding vitriol of Venomous, to Seventh’s frantic, quasi-intellectual attack and the rabble-rousing Anthem in the space of the record’s first three songs, it’s clear we’re in for a rol...
