It’s hard to be more direct than this Violent Closure, released by Gel in 2021. This short format, a handful of tracks that never exceed a minute and a half, functions as a warning shot before the New Jersey group takes center stage. You’ll find the essence of what would build the band’s reputation: drums that strike in dry bursts, riffs that never stretch longer than necessary, and the voice of Sami Kaiser that barks more than it sings, never chasing melodic comfort.
An urgency that doesn’t breathe
What strikes first is the complete absence of dead air. The tracks flow into each other like blows struck without warning, with structures that favor brutal breaks over development. The deliberately raw production lets you hear every pick attack and every labored breath from the singer, without smoothing over the rough edges. You can sense the powerviolence heritage in how certain passages accelerate until they suffocate before stopping dead, as if the band refuses to give the listener time to settle comfortably into a riff.
The cry as cement
Sami Kaiser’s voice is what sets this record apart from a simple exercise in noise and speed. It doesn’t seek grand gestures, it cries out with a conviction that gives the whole thing coherence, even when the tracks shift rhythm without warning. The message of inclusion and community that runs through Gel’s project is felt less in explicit lyrics you could break down here than in the collective energy the recording radiates: you get the impression of witnessing a tightly packed concert, where every minute counts double. The rhythmic sections, never virtuosic for the sake of it, serve only immediate discharge, and it’s precisely this stripped-down quality that gives the record its power.
Short but not trivial
The reduced format of this release might suggest a simple minor milestone in the band’s journey, but it instead functions as a demonstration of what Gel does best: getting straight to the point without ever diluting their message. You might wish the whole thing allowed more room for breathing or more developed compositional ideas, but that would be misunderstanding the band’s intent, which aims for discharge rather than narrative. Each track acts as an isolated uppercut, and the sum of these uppercuts creates an album you consume in one go, without really having time to catch your breath between listens.
Ultimately, Violent Closure reads like a nervous business card, announcing what Gel would go on to develop with their next album. You already find everything that makes the band strong: the abrasiveness, the deliberate brevity, and that voice that refuses compromise. It’s not a record trying to radically innovate in hardcore, but it perfectly fulfills its role as a short and punchy piece, designed to hit hard and fast. Hardcore fans who like when things go straight to the point will find plenty to satisfy them here, even if the band’s real essence reveals itself fully elsewhere in their discography.
