[Album Review] SPOILED - ‘Collapse’ LP.

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Written By Brady Irwin

Spoiled - Collapse

Label/s: Gruesome Records/Selvajaria Records

Release Date: 27th Feb, 2025.


Author: Brady Irwin

Stereotypes and assumptions don’t amount to much in the day and age of globalisation and chronically-online interconnectedness via the increasing mess of mass-communication platforms available in 2025.

We’re cursed by it in some ways - fearmongering, disinformation, endless reams of sponsored advertising and AI slop - but in others, it’s very much a blessing.

Here to defy both assumptions and loudly, bombastically pierce the veil of global internet shenanigans, is Italy’s Spoiled. Hearkening from a part of the world largely subsumed in the overall European heavy/alternative music discourse compared to more Northern/Western European counterparts, an LP such as Collapse is eminent proof that more of us should be paying attention to the scene.

Mash M.O.D.C., Slayer, Ringworm, Gorilla Biscuits, Iron Reagan and the like into a blender, and you get what amounts to a short but sharp and fun treatise on all things punky, thrashy and catchy. With an overall sound you’d easily be forgiven for thinking hails from the next street over to Municipal Waste in Virginia, US, Spoiled bring a decidedly skate-punk friendly christ-air of thrash/crossover tricks from their Mediterranean climes.

Squealing in over feedback and a slow palm-mute, ‘Marching Spoiled’ provides a characteristically pizza-thrash introductory stomp-anthem. Ringing out with the last chord chug, Pekkia’s guitar-work soon churns from methodical plodding into frantic thrash palm-mute as ‘Beer Stealers’ beats the down to well, probably nick off with your leftover booze!

Rumbling with the clack you’ve come to know and expect from a band of this ilk, Yami’s basslines keep a rigidity alongside Zibbo’s Discharge-informed flat-stick pacing on the skins. Amping up the vocal intensity from less shouty, more gnarled bark, Danny Boy’s vocals are met with punk-rock gang-chants, a nifty little blazing solo and a concoction that plays it hard, fast and focussed. There’s no meandering into operatic prog or anything of that nature, here - it’s all-over-Red-Rover at just clear of a single minute!

Just in time for follow-up track ‘Zombie Hunters’ to absolutely flatten with a body-slamming uptick in tempo, rollicking palm-mutes colliding against the call-response bark and response from Danny and crew. Before you know it, like a metal-nightclub DJ with ADHD at 4am, the track’s spun, chopped, sped up and churned out. Efficient, fast, thrashing. Nothing much more to be said from another single-minute track, aside from the fact it’s both fun and competent in its’ delivery. I ain’t complaining about that - no way, no how.

With a runtime basically eclipsing both prior two tracks together, title track ‘Collapse’ is no chin-stroking exercise in pseudo-intellectualism either. Nay, if anything, the additional time is employed mainly to drop a big, swing-time feelin’ breakdown riff, wedged between Danny’s barks of “The end is here!” and more choral chants from his bandmates. The slight tempo adjustment works well; not only is there a brief repose in the up-tempo charge, but it’s also a fun pocket of groove in an LP that is, overall, epitomising blink-and-you’ll-miss-it (by design).

‘What a Mess!’ could be construed as self-referential, but it’s simply too lockstep and watertight to live up to it’s moniker. Bustling between mere moments of both open power-chord chugs and faster palm-muted chaos, it makes my latter point even more prescient. Once again, is this a fault? Hell no! If anything, a shorter run-time means more riffs to my earholes, and quicker, at that. ‘Punkomat’, in comparison, feels like an amalgam of the two prior tracks. Whipping through at a no-nonsense pace, the slide-heavy riffs help keep the sense of perpetual momentum up, with only the odd choke on the drums providing momentary repose for the listener.

Which bring us to the progressive metal epic, ‘Be Food!’. Just kidding, but in comparison, they might as well have covered Opeth if they’re going nearly three whole minutes on us! What I really dig about the LP as a whole, is that there is absolutely no room left in any corner. No crevice unturned, no opportunity to fill the room with bangin’ crossover thrash/hardcore punk riffs wherever silence exists. More spindly fretwork on this number would anchor within a traditional-thrash paradigm, but you can’t get that past the punk-as-heck latter half, nor the hearty addition of almost Oi!-styled bang vocals. It’s like a wrestless thrash child throwing down in the middle of a punk matinee.

And hey, they’ve even thrown in a 6-second ode to a particularly epic grindcore track in ‘Napalm’. I’ll leave you to guess which, but I’m assuming any followers interested in a fastcore thrash band will have the track in mind.

By the time you’ve registered that the prior track, you’ve probably gotten about halfway through the two-minute knees-raised pit-stomp of ‘Phonte i Nabbath’. That’s okay, we don’t blame you for it - just hit that back button, and launch yourself back into a party-thrash vibe that would slot perfectly into any recent LP from GAMA BOMB, Municipal Waste or heck, your mates’ cousin’s local hardcore punk crew who stole your beers (alongside Spoiled).

Exemplifying the on-brand self-deprecation that is almost requisite in this sarcastic, perpetually half-drunk corner of the thrash/punk/hardcore nexus, ‘Nabbath’ spits a snark and sneer that I feel is aided heavily by their native tongue. As someone who can barely speak English as my only known language, I felt compelled to check out if the lyrics were as goofy and sincere as I’d expect. Wasn't wrong, if my poor-man’s research on Google Translate is any indicator:

“We are not tired of all these shitty songs

Just to be heard but it is not a competition to see who plays the most

There is no evolution we have turned our backs on the future

And we seek banality, we are sterility!”

Kind of a chance look-up, honestly. Delivers their mission-statement loudly and clearly - we’re here to play shows, have fun, thrash hard and we aren’t exactly interested in being flagbearers for the burden of envelope. Where I’ll disagree with these Italian larrikins, however, is their tongue-in-cheek assessment of being either banal or sterile.

Sorry, fellas. If you’re seeking those, you haven’t found either yet! I know this by way of ‘Rotting Sun’ which trots at a slow canter before galloping into a drunk-wrestle brawl of solos, razor-sharp riffage and rollicking drums/bass over fiercely barked vocals. The fist-pumping chants and extra grit of the closing chord-stomp is a perfect segue back into an even faster two-minute bruiser in ‘Identity’. Everything from the cadence, lyrics and breakneck riffs smacks of crossover, unashamedly so. As with other tracks, there’s a fun breakout section with a double-kick inflected breakdown riff that bounces from chugs to palm-mute frenzy, and it’s over before you know it.

‘Fratello d’Italia’ is not a warm cup of coffee whilst being pestered at the info kiosk in Rome. It’s a backroom brawl later that same night at 2am, a punky belter that once again has an additional element of bite via the Italian tongue. I really liked how this one just keeps accelerating in pace throughout, as though the whole band are onstage and caught up in thrash’s gotta-go-fast siren song. It’s a tasty sample of the relentless battering-ram that begins ‘Filastin’ not long afterwards. With some of the fastest and most metallic riffage yet, it’s a fine example of the crossover genre - thrash, but done in about 1/4 the time and threefold the snotty punk sarcasm. And a fun slamming riff to tie the minute-plus track off.

‘Arabian Tower’ might have some, I don’t know, Lacuna Coil fans excited? Finally, something operatic? Symphonic? Nope, nope, nope. By now, you’ve been smacked in the face with relentless d-beat, slamming riffs and chugs aplenty. The album’s track serves as an equally-frenetic sister to the prior track, with an uptick of intensity and speed to really send things off. Especially well-sent when it’s to the repeated vocal refrains of “Death or thrash!”. Tony Foresta, I think someone’s been taking Iron Reagan/Municipal Waste notes something fierce over here - musically and lyrically! (Bro would love this band, someone show it to him, or I will).

Yep, it’s all by the book, officer. Which means it’s likely guilty of at least several public-drunkenness/general antisocial punk related crimes, sir.

‘A.S.P.O.S.’ makes this public knowledge, belting out another caustic battery of uptempo palm-muted frenzy-riffage over tireless drumwork. Clocking in at an epic near three minutes (I know, right?! Quick, call Dream Theater!), there’s ample opportunity to give the entire thing a send-off in one last beer-soaked salutation stomp-riff before it all just simply… ends.

And like that, we’re done! In the time it takes a progressive rock band to smash out half a middling keyboard interlude, you’ve been battered, bruised, given several wedgies and been held in an arm-lock by a bunch of drunken louts. Louts hailing from Italy, with none of the upper-crust pretence we might associate with more tourist-y stereotypes of the place. (Fleshgod Apocalypse traipsing straight past the alleyway these gutter-thrashers are rolling around in, not pictured.)

If Collapse is anything to go by, it’s that you can’t keep a good, sarcastic party-thrashin’ punk down. Some might speculate this sounds just like a whole bunch of other hardcore-punk-infused rapid-fire thrash acts doing the rounds. And those folks would be right. Spoiled know what they’re doing and they do it tightly, deftly, skilfully and with a level of snark that’d give Nona several heart attacks. And that’s just from the unashamed cultural-appropriation of coastal US thrashcore. Never mind the lyrics!

Great stuff, and I look forward to more bands coming at me from the Southern climes of Europe with this level of gut-busting thrash energy.

Grazie da questo fan Australiano del thrash, Spoiled - this was fun as fuck.

15 songs, 25 minutes. All good times. Enough said.

And if you want lived-experience proof with your own ears, you can thank Youtubers The New Wave of Old School Thrash Metal for the belw full-album stream. But be sure to check out the artist and label links below. Support our crusty thrash brethren the world over!

Brady Irwin
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