Despair - "History of Hate" Album Description:
I first ran into Despair the way you run into half the best thrash: by accident, in a stack that looked like it had been alphabetized by a tired shop dog. Dortmund band, late 80s. The sleeve title practically dares you to overthink it—"History of Hate"—so I did what any sensible person does: I put it on and waited for the record to prove it meant it.
It starts like a door kicked open. Not “vibrant landscape,” not “seminal chapter.” Just speed, sharp turns, and riffs that don’t politely introduce themselves. This is German thrash that likes its edges clean but its mood ugly. The guitars cut and then loop back, like they’re arguing with themselves. The drums don’t “support” anything—they push. And the vocals bite more than they sing, which is exactly the point.
The album came out in 1988, and there’s a neat little historical twist hiding in plain sight: it was the first full-length release on Century Media, launched by Despair’s own Robert Kampf. That’s not trivia to decorate a paragraph; that’s the sound of a scene building its own infrastructure because nobody else was going to do it for them.
Standouts? “Freedom Now” runs with that wired, forward-leaning urgency. The title track “History of Hate” feels like it’s grinding its teeth between phrases. And “Constructing the Apocalypse” sprawls out longer, the kind of track that tests whether a band can stay dangerous once they slow down enough for you to notice the details.
There’s something very late-80s about how tight it is without turning sterile—thrash with its boots still muddy, but laced up properly. The mix (Harris Johns is credited) has that familiar German bite: guitars present, bass not completely bullied into the corner, and enough space that the fast parts don’t turn into a hissy blur.
Vinyl doesn’t magically make it “warmer” like a lifestyle blog promises. What it does here is make the whole thing feel physical: the small crackle before the first hit, the way the noise floor makes the quiet bits feel like they’re holding their breath. I like that. It’s honest. Digital can be too clean for records that were never meant to behave.
And no, this isn’t one of those albums that needs you to call it “influential” twenty times to justify liking it. It’s a debut that hits hard, thinks fast, and doesn’t waste your time. Which is funny, because it’ll happily steal an evening once you let it.
