Blind Justice is a hardcore band from New Jersey, and I'm pretty sure they only have two albums: 2015's Undertow and 2017's No Matter the Cost. This was a period when Zzz'rs and youngish millstones were still (re)discovering hardcore music, in the same way that you might discover that you left a fiver in your back pocket on laundry day, and manage to magically dig it out on a day you left your wallet at home and decide to stop by the taco truck for lunch (and yeah, you can still get pretty good tacos in Chicago for a fiver... you know, in the event you'd rather eat than save for a lead-lined firetrap in an under-resourced part of the city in 4-5 years for double its current market price). This music was always there, but greenhorns were just managing to gouge themselves on its rougher edges at a time when underground music was desperately in need of an adrenaline fix- on god, good on them. As for Blind Justice, they're named after an Agnostic Front song (Duh!). The album of theirs that I'm best acquainted with is No Matter the Cost, and it's pretty much all there in the title. Relentless, untrammeled truth and fury, unleashed without regard for life, limb, or the happiness of liars, cheats, and hypocrites. They're not metalcore; they don't play around with time signatures; they don't accent tracks with samples from action movies or French New Wave cinema; and there is nothing "elevating" about their sound that attempts to "push the limits" of hardcore. And boy, is it pure mana from mosh-Minvera. Old-school, heedless, don't-mess-with-us hardcore in the vein of Sick of It All, Terror, and Bane. Stomping guitar churns, depth-charge bursting subtonal bass, plummeting breakdowns, and relentless air-raid siren vocals. Lyrics deal with self-assertion, wanton destruction of property, building lifelong friendships, and attacking political corruption. Blind Justice will kick down your door, windmill-kick all your shabby, sunken, second-hand furniture to death, and burn the roach motel sublet to the ground just for the hell of it. They're frankly doing you a favor. No dump, no lease, no landlord, no problem. Go with the wind. God speed.
Flatspot (on your forehead where the spin kick hit) Records.
