CoSign: Poison Ruïn Harvest Blood-Pumping Sounds and New Political Messaging from a Classic Punk Framework

The post CoSign: Poison Ruïn Harvest Blood-Pumping Sounds and New Political Messaging from a Classic Punk Framework appeared first on Consequence.

We’ve (re)rebranded our Artist of the Month series to CoSign, but we’re still dishing the accolade out to an up-and-coming artist or group who is poised for the big time. For April 2023, we’re shining the spotlight on Philadelphia punks Poison Ruïn and their latest record, Härvest.


Political sentiments, fast riffs, and angry performances are as much a part of punk as power chords. Angsty sloganeering has defined the genre since its earliest days. And yet, half a century after the rise of the style, hardcore acts are still finding ways to reinvent its raw aggression. Poison Ruïn prove as much on their latest LP, Härvest, which innovates on the classic formula by fusing high-concept abstraction with furious, blistering performances.

From the first moments of Härvest, the Philly outfit introduce themselves as an act that cares little about the baggage packaged with the term “punk.” With “Pinnacle of Ecstasy” interrupting its ominous, mystical soundscape with a wailing, one-note guitar line, the band makes it clear they’re equally disinterested in either abiding by or breaking the established rules of heavy music. They’re both untethered from the past and undaunted by the expectations of the modern scene.

“I very much try to not think that way when writing things,” frontman Mac Kennedy says of Poison Ruïn’s tendency to isolate themselves from outside influences. “I don’t have any illusions; every idea comes from something else. But, I try not to think of those because I feel like then you just directly replicate something. At this point, I’m more wary than ever of [being] surrounded by that stuff.”

Such an attitude is evident throughout Härvest’s ferocious 11 tracks. The band is perfectly willing to introduce new timbres into their sound, but they’re also prepared to put their heads down to trudge through an angry, 90-second punk song that sounds as if The Ramones were dragged through nihilism and mud.

But the homegrown originality of the band’s sonic palette only tells half of the story, as Härvest, which stands as the band’s first full-length project of wholly new music, doubles down on the mythology Poison Ruïn have been crafting since their earliest releases. The record frames itself as a journey through a hellish world of dark fantasy, complete with allusions to feudal systems, medieval torture, and, in the case of “Bastards Dance,” samples that sound like a blacksmith forging a blade specifically designed for mass slaughter.

Read into the fantastical, unsettling imagery, and allegories of modern suffering begin to appear. Kennedy hides stories of class oppression, hopelessness, and political corruption beneath symbols that are usually cast as whimsical and escapist.

“We had already set this precedent of using medieval imagery and dark fantasy [as] kind of this extended metaphor, a sort of symbolism for talking about contemporary things,” Kennedy tells Consequence. “People can be a little repelled by something that’s overtly political or feels like it’s didactic or telling you something. It can be condescending or off-putting and dry. So, it’s sort of a way to allow people to interact with it in different ways. It helps organize the thought, but for me, it also allows someone to chew on something over time.”

While songs like “Harvest,” “Torture Chamber,” or “Augur Die” aren’t directly espousing Kennedy’s political rebellion to the listener in the same way as, say, Black Flag does on “Rise Above,” there’s certainly an inescapable feeling that things are bad and only getting worse. Whether it’s the noisy recording, heavy production, or Kennedy’s guttural growls, you’ll get the sense that something is wrong whether Poison Ruïn lays it out for you or not.

Perhaps that’s why the band is often likened to punk icons Wipers. Beyond the frantic energy and willingness to experiment, both bands wrote their own playbook from scratch. Sure, anger and discontent fueled their propulsive rhythms and fiery riffs, but they each took a more contemplative approach to their songwriting, thoroughly considering the impact of their work and attempting to find new, unexplored ways of delivering their ideas.

“They’re an inspiration more in these kinds of ways. I get the sense that the way the music was written, they were trying to do their own thing, have their own internal logic,” Kennedy explains. “It seems like something they prioritized was having fresh ideas that you don’t normally hear in a driving punk, harder music sort of context. They do that so successfully in a way that doesn’t feel indulgent or masturbatory – like prog rock or something.

“The ideas are often really stirring, interesting, and sometimes really complicated [musically],” he continues. “But they’ve been siphoned and filtered down through this really accessible context, which I find really inspiring.”

Such an ethos comes through when listening to Härvest. Especially in a live context, the songs work incredibly well as works of consolidated aggression that might inspire the deadliest circle pit of the 21st century. Moshing fans might even chant along with refrains like “Isn’t this our harvest? Isn’t this our feast to share?,” only to come to the sobering realization of what those pointed words mean on the dark drive home.

Poison Ruïn make music for instant thrills and revolutions alike. Their songs are at once visceral and heady, raging and contemplative, classic and innovative. It’s perfect punk for 2023.

Having trouble seeing the interview video above? Watch on YouTube.

CoSign: Poison Ruïn Harvest Blood-Pumping Sounds and New Political Messaging from a Classic Punk Framework
Jonah Krueger

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