If you are a hardworking, blue collar member of Weekend Nachos and you just got home after punching out from your double shift at the local power violence factory pressing out jam after killer jam, just how do you work out the day's frustrations? Why, you crack the frosty beverage of your choice, start up a kickass side project and bless with world with even more power violence. That's the Cyborg story in a nutshell.
While there is nothing here that will shock fans of the members' day job, Cyborg's nine songs nudge away from Weekend Nacho's junior Man in the Bastard glower to copiously pilfer from all velocities of the Siege canon (particularly "Grim Reaper's" slow motion misery--no saxophone, though). What makes Cyborg especially interesting is the way the flip the script on the hoary punk and grind trope of starting a song all slow and blasting away to the finish. Instead, these more machine than men power mongers love to kick your teeth in from the handshake and then double foot the brakes to slowly loom over your bleeding body to gloat over the damage at the end. When they crank things down, the elephantine heaviness of the bass just rumbles over the scene like a breaking thunderstorm on a windswept plain. It's a small stylistic tic, but it's enough to jolt some freshness into a 20 year old style.
And Cyborg have certainly drunk deep of hardcore's storied history because they spend most of the EP's runtime pissing all over its treasured conventions. They rant about being that guy with no interest in drinking or drugs but who really hates those preachy straight edge assholes ("Pointless Rant" -- and boy can I relate to that one), obnoxious vegans who lord their imaginary superiority over you ("90's Song") and tatted up dickbags who like to pose and preen and bully others at shows ("Tough Love"). All of that and the definitive word on limeade's superiority to lemonade.
Cyborg is that rare side project I think I actually like more than the regular band.