Glassjaw are one of the heaviest bands on the planet right now, their uncompromising music coming across like the twisted lovechild of Fugazi and Sepultura, with enough power chords for the entire cast of Ozzfest.

There is far more to this Long Island quintet than mere noise, though. Daryl Palumbo’s lyrics and vocals plough a more interesting furrow than any of nu-metal’s wannabes are capable of, with the result that Glassjaw are closer in spirit to the likes of At The Drive In than Limp Bizkit.

Palumbo’s outpourings aren’t always the most comforting, however, even when you can make out what the fuck he is screaming about. ‘Pink Roses’ sees our hero trying to seduce the object of his attentions thus: “I want to drink you, scare you, fuck you and film you”: what girl could resist? He vents his socio-political spleen on the acerbic ‘Radio Cambodia’, asking “Who reaches heaven in what order when our kids are baptised in mortar?/ It’s a shame that our messiahs move their pawns from different mountains”.

Despite the sometimes feral nature of the music, there are enough dollops of melody sprinkled around the crunching bar-chords to make the whole thing palatable. Even the ferocious opening salvo, ‘Tip Your Bartender’, softens its cough somewhat before the end, while the infectious chorus of ‘Cosmopolitan Bloodloss’ almost borders on radio friendly, before Palumbo opines glibly, “We are the most impassioned ugly people”.

Then there’s the staccato machine-gun spray of ‘Mu Empire’, the brilliantly catchy ‘Ape Dos Mil’, the not quite tender ‘Must’ve Run All Day’ and the epic ‘The Gillette Cavalcade Of Sports’ to be getting along with, before the tremendous, tumultuous closing ‘Two Tabs Of Mescaline’ impales its wiry claws in your grey matter, inviting you rather forcibly to take note.

Glassjaw are a perfect example of how powering up doesn’t necessarily mean dumbing down. I could describe Worship And Tribute as the best metal album I’ve heard in years, and it is, but that doesn’t do it justice.

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