Some serious brain-scalding psychcrust is found on Atentado's Dias De Rabia, the debut mini-album from this Spanish hardcore outfit outta Barcelona, on vinyl only. I fuckin' fell in love with this beast as soon as I planted my eyes on the album art; the sleeve is adorned with a maelstrom of obsessive scribbled nightmares from artist Guillem El Muro that have a feel comparable to seeing some of Nick Blinko's work after he's gone way off his meds, visions of horned demons and shrieking graveyard ghasts and pictorial representations of anti-authoritarian horror all gobbled up in the dense sketched chaos that extends all the way into the large twelve-page booklet that comes with the record. And the music fits those visuals perfectly, a ripping, rather zonked-out crustcore assault that has one of the more maniacal approaches I've heard lately. The band's rampaging D-beat drumming and buzzsaw three-chord riffs all nod to the obvious Discharge influence, but Atentado take it in a weird other direction with a frenzied blown-out sound that smears huge gobs of distortion and trippy effects and noise across the brutal hardcore. The songs surge into chaotic noise-drenched assaults and odd off-kilter riff-wreckage, shifting from swirling angular noise-punk into some killer mid-tempo thrash breakdowns, with extreme levels of reverb and echo being employed for a strange disassociative effect, and the high-end of the mix pushed right through the roof. Singer Elsa has a crazed near-monotone ripped-throat shriek that comes howling from somewhere in the background, just as drenched in reverb as everything else, a bestial wind-tunnel howl that barely registers as human, let alone something that's coming out of the lungs of a young girl; these some of the harshest fuckin' vocals I've heard in ages. While built on a heap of crushing, Discharge-influenced aggression, Atentado's berserker sound doesn't carry the type of noise-overload that you'd associate with the 'crasher crust'/Japanese noise punk crowd, but it definitely has a warped lysergic edge that is all its own. Great shit, definitely check this out if you were into the stuff that No Statik has been putting out. Sadly, these guys seem to have disbanded in the wake of this monstrous platter, but what an artifact they left behind. On heavyweight black vinyl, limited to five hundred copies.