“The scene: Endscape #1047, adj: barren, industrial, gratuitous visual filters. The hero: Gas Mask Mook, exhausted after another long day of near-future photoshoots and fighting off angry crows. The soundtrack: the precise blend of death, thrash, groove, and metalcore that the astute reader might have already surmised lies behind this cavalcade of tropes. Montreal’s BornBroken forego silly grammatical conventions in their pursuit of a record that welcomes all comers, within the Hall and without. Is the soundtrack to your apocalypse, or will BornBroken be forced to face some harsh truths of their own?” Gas mask revival?
