"Humiliation is one of the most damaging and haunting emotions one can endure. It's a pain that sticks, and [in most cases] it requires an audience. The connotation of the name takes the power out of a crowd potentially hating you. It deletes any chance of a 'rock star image,'" LoCruzio says in a calm and sincere tone. The 21-year-old has the classic look of a spectacle-wearing bookish type, but with a disheveled and exhausted tinge that's reinforced by his worn-out shirt and directionless frock of hair.
Rempel continues LoCruzio's thought.
"Being humiliated is a theme embraced throughout the band's ethos -- harnessing this idea of discomfort within yourself. It conquers the notion in a way."
There is a subtle tension to his voice that signifies a sense of belief in his words. Somewhat neatly dressed in a button-down and jeans, Rempel's short-cropped dark brown hair is guarded by a brilliantly positioned bucket hat adorned with a Swans pin on the inner brim which seems supernaturally held in a flipped up position above his face.
To the benefit of their postulations, Humiliation certainly conquers hurdles sonically. Theirs is a studied brand of hardcore that weaves between the ever-inflating cliché trappings of the genre with a dynamic and austere ferocity. For close to a year, the group has gruelingly built a name for itself in the underground DIY hardcore scene, unleashing brief and menacing outbursts on bills with nationally esteemed bands such as NASA Space Universe, Gag and Condition.
Though without a doubt playing a harshly threatening brand of hardcore, Humiliation makes a firm point of avoiding the stigmatizing issues of mindless machismo and hollow ideology associated with the genre. As a band, the members have formed an obsessively focused goal of taking the music in a direction that they see as valuable, in a climate in which the genre seems less and less worthy of defending.
"We attempt to move as far away from the generic as possible and draw from things far beyond hardcore itself," Rempel explains. To this end, the duo -- they admit to being the principal songwriters in the band, but do not neglect drummer Noah Kenyon and Bassist Brandon Forde -- has gone as far as to read the same political theory book (Guy Debord's 1967 The Society of the Spectacle) simultaneously in order to gain a mutually attuned perspective, and admits to a tirelessly revisionist writing process.
That said, LoCruzio is quick to place a retainer on the subject of politics within his lyrics: "The nature of being a DIY hardcore band is, in a way, inherently political. ... It's something that's grassroots-organized and collectivist in the first place, so having consistently brash political lyrics can become redundant. It's a matter of how severely you want to take it. Having too staunch of a stance can weaken your message. ... That said, I do have some politically driven lyrics, but ... delivered more vaguely, wrapped up in topics more personal to me."