Ever wonder what it feels like to listen to a nightmare?
9 tracks of crazed, unrelenting sonic power. Demented and distorted guitar rhythms screech over guttural vocal pulsations, driven by a haunting barrage of low end mayhem. The first vinyl offering from CICADA exposes the sound of a thousand bad dreams. A sinister yet brilliant manifestation of wicked minds...

Our take: Jeff Young has already proclaimed Cicada the best hardcore band in America, and who am I to argue? For me, Cicada stands head and shoulders above so many contemporary bands because they’re so in tune with the ugliest, weirdest, most underground aspects of classic hardcore punk while still determinedly progressive, dead-set on pushing the limits of their own sound and the genre as a whole. Wicked Dream is crammed with ideas, and while five of its nine songs don’t even reach the one-minute mark, each one feels like it contains a symphony worth of music. Cicada doesn’t give ideas room to breathe and they don’t milk riffs; they get in, make their point (or ten of their points) and get the fuck out, usually within the space of seconds rather than minutes. While you hear nods to the pillars of outsider hardcore—G.I.S.M., Die Kreuzen, Cheetah Chrome Motherfuckers—Cicada is on their own trip. The main riff in the first track, “Epiphany,” strikes an uncanny balance between the tightest, most agile hardcore and woozy psychedelia, while the 51-second “Suicide Fuel” launches from another dense, agitated riff, hurling itself through some insanely brief metallic lead guitar runs and into a thrilling bass-and-drums break. The musique concrete / noise piece at the end of side A and the more metal-influenced “Much Worse” might remind you of their fellow Richmonders Public Acid for brief a moment, but it’s quickly followed up by the title track, whose ethereal lead guitar and quirky but mosh-able mid-paced riff make it one of Wicked Dream’s most memorable tracks. And there’s plenty more excitement before the free jazz pig-pile at the end of the ninth track, “Desperation Ceremony.” Despite Wicked Dream’s density, it doesn’t feel like some kind of academic math-core exercise. I love following all these little threads in their music, but Cicada weaves them into a cohesive tapestry that’s just as enthralling from a wider perspective. You can disengage with this record on a micro-level, just letting the vibes wash over you, and you’ll enjoy it just as much. Wicked Dream is just a phenomenal record, and if you want your hardcore punk to deliver all the genre’s trademark speed and intensity while still serving up something new, you’ll agree this is the cream of contemporary hardcore’s crop.