It was always going to be hard picking a particular favourite record. Some have picked their breakthrough record, the gateway LP which got them into hardcore, or just simply the one that means the most to them. I could have gone a couple of directions with this article, maybe select obvious golden oldies of the 80’s like Judge or the Cro-Mags and so on. Maybe I could have chosen what have been modern classics for me, Modern Life Is War’s ‘Witness’, Champion’s Promises Kept, Holyghost’s Self-Titled LP, Internal Affairs, Lights Out on and on and on. I also struggled with the idea of choosing maybe a UK release. Potentially the UK’s hardcore scene had a bigger impact on me, with so many friends made and so many fantastic bands, I was considering Out of Hand, Cold Snap, Wayfarer and even an honourable mention of Hatemail. In the end, when I really sat and thought about it, trawled through my music collection I spotted one and I knew straight away that’s what I was going to write about.

For me, this record (as well as being a fucking pant-creamingly good 7″) was a soundtrack to some of the best memories I have of being an irresponsible kid (some could argue nothing’s changed apart from my facial hair and questionable tattoos). This record was the backdrop to going on long train journeys to different cities with a crew of mates. To driving around those cities singing the lyrics and shouting insults at my fellow man from the car window. To spray painting the walls of my front room in the house I rented from my mum. To myself and all my mates crammed into my bedroom doing homemade tattoos of stupid pacmans. It was the record we all loved and collected, fought for in pitched battles on eBay. It’s tracks got covered by local bands or occasionally out of towners. Trying to get a fucking shirt of this band was like trying to get hen’s teeth from Jade Goody’s arse with boxing gloves on. Most of all, it was for me always in the background of the shows in Hull when I know (not feel) that it had reached it’s peak. If that’s not encapsulating what makes a hardcore record, then I’ve learnt fuck all, and I’ll hand in my members card to the king of UKHC II forum.

“Those were great times, those were gay times”

So now let’s cut the shit, as I’ve built up the expectation even more than waiting to see Seven Of Nine’s tits when you were 12 years old. My record of choice is Frostbite’s Self-Titled on Dead By 23. For some reason, I used to think that they were massively under-rated. No one in America seemed to know who they were, and to me it was an absolute fucking outrage. They released a demo tape (In The End You’re Headless) and then knocked out a few more songs and stuck it onto this stormer of a record. This 7″ got re-pressed and re-pressed and re-pressed. To some collectors this may be the biggest ballache, but in Hull it became a challenge and a badge of honour. They had so many alternate covers and they all looked pretty cool to me. At one time I had the vast majority of the collection, before becoming poor and selling it for something that probably means jack shit to me now.

“I can’t believe this only cost me 160 quids worth of records!”

So, what about what was actually on that record? Fuck off, this is my article, I’ll get to it in my own time. Like now. There’s nothing too fancy here, it’s classic fast aggro hardcore. It does exactly what the rest of the bands on Dead By 23 did, but it’s just so well written for me. First off, the opening track “The Blizzard of ‘93” I defy those of you who know it not to start singing it in your head already. “I don’t want this . . .” One of those awesome chugging intros, where you know everyone is losing their shit. Then it comes back in with the vocals, and everyone just dives on the vocalist like he’s North Face 50% off vouchers. It moves straight into the next song with such fluid ease, but carries so much energy and aggression with it. The constant punishing drumbeat is infectiou,s and the raw abrasive tone of the guitars just keep carrying you to the next breakdown and as soon as you’re there, you’re plunged into perfect ecstasy, caught up in the boundless cacophony and you’re left wanting to do is inflict excessive agony on whoever is next to you in the pit. The vocals have a raw, honest quality that isn’t so forced and just sounds like an extremely pissed off guy, instead of a beast of the depths. The bass plays its part well and does exactly what you expect from a bass in a hardcore band, nothing too fancy, but to their credit, it does it well and in all the right places! Each song on this release holds it’s own. There is no fucking filler in this album. That’s a really hard thing to boast. Each song has a part where you go “fuck yeah this bit with the harmonics”,“that bit with the drums” or “that gang vocal”. It’s one of those records which you just can’t sit still to. Those kind of records are the ones that capture your attention and keep it. As soon as I listen to this album it makes me want to get up off my lazy arse, and go to a show and go wild. So when that band I don’t really know plays a Frostbite cover (rarely) you can guarantee that I’m going to get up, jump around in a sweaty mess, try and grab the mic and inevitably forget all those lyrics I love so much.

This is the end. I’m done. It’s over. Goodbye. Good-Fucking-bye.