It would be easy to despise Pg.99 (as they are usually referred to) for instigating the flood of truly shitty bands that swept forth in the earlier part of the decade under the flag of "screamo", as these guys were hugely influential on all of the nascent punk rockers that witnessed their chaotic live performances from the late 1990's up until their breakup in 2003. Pg.99 were a powerful band though, one of the most popular bands to come out of the Virginia/DC/Maryland hardcore underground, and their chaotic, mutant hardcore is still impossible to classify as merely "screamo", or whatever; the members of Pg.99 absorbed a ton of different sounds and filtered it back out through a massive lineup that included two bassists, three guitar players, two singers and a drummer, a miniature hardcore orchestra that created immense blasts of layered aggression and discordance. The roots of their sound could be traced back to the frenetic, spastic punk of the legendary San Diego/Gravity Records scene, bands like Angel Hair and Heroin, hardcore punk turned crazed and chaotic and flailing around in violent fits and starts, but with bits of sludgy metal crunch and ferocious blasting grindcore, brief sections of melodic jangle, creepy angular punk, lengthy instrumental sections that seethe with frustration, contorted mathy riffing, weird production moves that bathe the music in white noise, and scathing lyrics that cast an unforgiving glare over consumerism and big business in punk all mixed together into complex, textured songs that sounded unlike anything else at the time. Their third album Document #8 was as dark a ride as anything that Pg.99 had commited to tape up that point - nine songs of abrasive, discordant punk, raw but intelligent, progressive even, and chock full of explosive and passionate youthful fury that I rarely ever hear in punk bands anymore. It ends with a cover of the classic crust anthem "The List" by Filth that Pg.99 make their own, and it fits in seamlessly with the tone of the album.

Robotic Empire reissued Document #8 a few years ago with a new mastering job and slightly changed packaging, but this is the first time that we've gotten the disc in stock - it's a essential piece of Pg.99's discography, and the packaging is terrific, with an all-black digipack with embossed artwork and a sixteen-page booklet that features lyrics, photos, liner notes and lots of Chris Taylor' immediately recognizeable, morbid artwork of Victorian-looking characters reduced to ghoulish decayed faces and rictus grins.