The Promise

Rock/pop

"Don't smoke, don't drink, don't fuck, at least I can fucking think," screamed Ian MacKaye on the classic Minor Threat 7-inch Out of Step. A common retort: So what do you do for fun then, Ian -- watch reruns of Full House? Such cynicism has turned the traits of straight-edge hardcore (bare chords, seething vocals and, oh yeah, no sex or drugs) into a cliche. Hardcore the social movement is becoming an ice cream social of punk couture fashion, stale metal riffs and Cookie Monster grumbling. The Promise defies the trend. Its debut LP Believer (Indecision) revives hardcore ideals like the syringe shooting adrenaline into the breastplate of a flatlining Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction. Composed of pioneers from Another Victim, One King Down and Conviction, the band writes as simple as punk should be -- meaty songs free of fat and punctuated with subtle hooks and heady lyrics. As punk becomes another sludge-covered commodity in the music industry pipeline, The Promise is an act to welcome with open, tat-covered arms. (Especially since the poor guys just lost all their equipment when their tour van burst into flames earlier this month.)

Fri., Sept. 12, 7:30 p.m., $10, with Bane, Striking Distance, Comeback Kid and One Up, First Unitarian Church, 22nd and Chestnut sts., 800-594-TIXX.

—Andrew Parks

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