The Fiction

    I Told Her That I Like Living in a Box


    Holy shit, have these dudes been overlooked. The Fiction’s I Told Her That I Like Living in a Box is the stuff folks ignore now for the stuff with more glitter, more gleam, better screams, and blacker hair. But in a few years, when people look back at the scream-y emotive hardcore surge of the 2000s, those bands who dressed better will have nothing on the sincerity and honesty in each of the ten songs on this debut.


    This isn’t scream-o, though, folks, so don’t let words like “sincerity” and “honesty” fool you. The Fiction, hailing from New York City, screams dissonance and rejection. They don’t want to be liked. They scream and pummel their instruments to be abrasive, to be rejected by all the mall-going zombies and to mind-fuck you out of your safe shell. And they do it by intermittently breaking into epic, melodic parts, giving the listener a reason to keep listening, rather than smash bricks into their temples.

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