Anthrax - We’ve Come for You All (May 6, 2003)
Today Anthrax celebrates the 20th anniversary of the release of its ninth studio album We’ve Come for you All. It is the last Anthrax studio album to feature John Bush on vocals, with his final album actually being the 2004 compilation The Greater of Two Evils, which features “live in the studio” re-recordings of classic Anthrax tunes from the Neil Turbin and first Joey Belladonna eras as sung by Bush. I’ve long held WCFYA as the best of the Bush-era albums, if not one of the best releases in the Anthrax catalog. Regardless of what you feel about the album, it is definitely one of the best-sounding albums, with great production by Rob Caggiano, who also makes his first appearance with the band on lead guitar.
I think the guitar and bass tones achieved on this album are some of the best the band has ever recorded, and the album goes places you might not expect. It is equal parts melodic and brutal, pop-y and thrash-y, and it even contains the closest to a ballad you’re probably ever going to get from Anthrax in the form of the second single “Safe Home,” especially the acoustic version released as a bonus track on the limited edition of the album. First single “Taking the Music Back” even features vocals by Roger Daltry who also contributes an unmistakeable, iconic scream coming out of the breakdown near the end of the song.
Despite favorable critical reviews, We’ve Come for You All only reached #122 on the Billboard 200 chart. Nevertheless, it remains one of my favorite Anthrax albums, and it ushers in an updated sound Anthrax would later revisit on Worship Music and For All Kings after Belladonna’s return following a string of soap-opera-level drama I won’t get into here (but that I did get into here and here).
Happy Anniversary We've Come For You All!
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sometimes i get the very strong urge to write a comes back ??? fic for bakugou but the more i think about it, the more i realize how emotionally taxing and honestly horrifying it would be.
you and bakugou spend a few years in that weird will-they-won't-they stage before you officially start seeing each other seriously, and then it takes some time to adjust to having a pro-hero for a partner — so it's not always easy. until the time goes by and you have a break up scare or two and things finally level out, and you figure out how to talk to each other and you fall into the beautifully warm comfort of just being together, in love.
and then he fucking dies. in a heart-explodey, blind-in-one-eye kind of way.
the two years that follow are just — time passing, like pages in a chapter you can't understand the words to. you know grief in a way you never could have comprehended before, you wonder what it's all for and how you'll go on. you're angry at him for sacrificing his stupid life and angry at the world for taking him from you, but you're so deeply, down to your bones, heartbroken over losing him.
and you're not the only one; more than any of his friends that you see, deku is the one who is there for you the most. calls you daily and pulls you out of bed, makes sure you eat because he knows that's what kacchan would want. lovingly flings out a few gruff insults that make you laugh until you're both crying in your kitchen. it means something, maybe, that you both can just mourn in the presence of one another, without judgement or care.
your relationship gets a little — dependent. not romantic, at least not for you, but it's like you need the other person for the bits of bakugou they hold that you don't. the memories and the laughs and the bad times as well as the good. the secrets katsuki would never tell you, and the tenderness izuku was never shown.
it never gets easier. every day is just another day. if you think about it for too long, it all comes crumbling down. you're almost having to disassociate through your life just to make it, and that's hard when the whole city mourns him, too. but you do it. every single day, even on the worst of them.
izuku calls you a little more than two years after, in the middle of the night.
sounding way too awake and out of breathe, though you don't think that's necessarily out of the ordinary, considering his profession. he's a very hyper-fixation kind of guy; you can only imagine what hobby he's picked up and also mastered in the last 48 hours.
he asks if he can come pick you up from your apartment because he "needs to show you something important" and you agree, even if it doesn't feel like it usually does, when the nights are long and you both need someone to talk to. this feels — urgent. a bit worrisome.
you don't know where he takes you, but he's quiet the whole way there. in an old sweater, hair mussed, bags under his eyes like he really hasn't slept in the last 48 hours.
("stupid flighty fucker," katsuki would say, sometimes, when the weight of the world was weighing too heavily on the number one hero's shoulders, and even if he would huff and puff and grit his teeth, you'd notice him checking his phone more often than usual. taking every phone call that came without hesitation.)
you almost want to tell izuku that, in the car, because that's what you do, that's how you've kept him alive between the two of you; kacchan would make a point to tell you that's not how generators work, in the shitty horror film you and deku go see, that kacchan wouldn't dare sit through.
("no, he would," you argue, solemn as the lights in the theater warm back to life, as it empties. "he would."
and after a long, heavy beat, izuku would agree. "yeah. he would.")
izuku brings you somewhere that's too clinical to be as quiet and as dark as it is: inside, the walls and floors are sterile with anti-septic but the lights are off, in every hallway. the only visibility comes from a small lamp that's in a lobby of sorts, and there is a small handful of people you don't know, at all, already there. waiting.
you say his name in a small, concerned question, and when he takes both his hands in yours, they're warm and too wide and sweaty. his eyes glow, but in a way you don't recognize. everything he says to you is — gibberish, a mish-mash of worry and half-sentences and all the warning bells are going off in your head.
"y-you can't freak out, okay? you have to—i can explain all this when...when the time is right."
"you said that you would give anything to have kacchan back, remember? you said—you would do anything."
"i know this sounds—i know how this sounds, okay? but nothing is impossible!"
"i just need you to trust me."
and up until now, you had no reason not to. but you're not sure when he slept last, or even when he ate last, or why he's muttering things about his quirk, how he and katsuki are connected somehow, in ways he's not able to explain.
or why you can faintly hear the steady beeping of a heart monitor just beyond the only closer door in this wing of the hospital.
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