A chorus of disapproval – Truth Gives Wings To Strength (1994)

Hardcore needs a wake-up call every few years—a slap to the face when it gets too comfortable, too predictable, too full of posers saying all the right things but doing fuck all. Truth Gives Wings to Strength is that slap. A Chorus of Disapproval didn’t come to play nice or stroke your nostalgic fantasies of Youth Crew unity. This record is a full-frontal assault, zero compromise, and it demands your attention—or your exit.

Dropped in ‘94 on New Age Records, this LP is a vital shot of life in a California scene that was already fracturing under its own weight. While much of SoCal hardcore was either falling back into melodic safety or drifting into metallic crunch with no backbone, A Chorus of Disapproval stood out like a busted tooth. Straight outta Orange County, these guys weren’t scene tourists—they were lifers. You could catch them at Spanky’s, the Showcase, Coos Café—wherever things were happening. Not interested in playing nice with scene celebrities or chasing coasts for clout, ACOD were calling bullshit in real time. They were loud, focused, and genuinely dangerous in the best possible way.

The sound of this record? Unapologetically hard. This isn’t metallic hardcore, it’s metallic spirit in a hardcore frame. Think early Agnostic Front filtered through the stripped-back intent of Insted, but with the density and menace of Judge. Guitars buzzsaw through the mix—tight, meaty, and never overindulgent. The rhythm section locks in like a vice: drums punch and snap without sounding mechanical, and the bass is aggressive but functional, never showy. Vocals are delivered in an unflinching bark—no pleading, no singing, just raw declarations with zero patience for your bullshit.

Lyrically, it’s all guts and grit. This isn’t your typical wide-eyed PMA setlist. ACOD are straight edge, yeah—but they’re not here to hold your hand about it. They’re angry, and they’re right to be. They see a scene filling with opportunists, back-pedalers, and weekend warriors. “Just Can’t Hate Enough” is pure venom, spitting bile at the hypocrisy and cowardice infecting the community. It’s not a lecture—it’s a callout, and it hits hard. “Full Circle Stop” tackles the erosion of intent in a movement that once stood for something. There’s no nostalgia here—just frustration sharpened into a blade.

The recording isn’t slick, but it shouldn’t be. It sounds like it was done fast and dirty, which suits the tone perfectly. No gloss, no big-budget tricks—just raw energy captured to tape before it could cool off. The vocals are a little hot in the mix, the guitars are rough around the edges, and the drums occasionally clip—but that only makes it feel real. This is DIY hardcore, not some Victory Records showcase.

In terms of impact, this thing’s a fucking time bomb. Not everyone will get it, and that’s the point. It’s not built for mass appeal. It’s built for the ones who are still here for the right reasons. Bands will try to bite the vibe, but they won’t touch the conviction. ACOD weren’t trying to sell anything—they were trying to burn away the dead weight.

Bottom line: Truth Gives Wings to Strength is a critical document of a scene at war with itself. It’s a record that demands more than just passive listening—it wants your involvement, your sweat, your guts. If you’re not ready for that, step aside. This isn’t your soundtrack.