Intertwining hardcore music and a hardcore lifestyle, the five men that comprise Fight Paris believe in the work hard, party harder mantra, and it definitely spills over on the 10-track PARADISE, FOUND. Jagged guitars, pounding rhythms, and chaotic vocals are staples here, instantaneously whipping up a party as the opening of “Fuck Me Stilettos” blasts through your speakers. Taking the dirty aspects of ‘80s cock rock and kicking them straight down your throat with a hardcore punk aesthetic, Fight Paris, taking cues from likeminded acts such as Every Time I Die and Avenged Sevenfold, are out to not only take over the rock world, but to outdo the legendary stories of Motley Crue, Guns ‘N Roses, and countless other lucky bastards that have survived rock ‘n’ roll’s excess. While they are miles away, songs like “One Track Mind” and “Southern Comfort” display a fine start.

SOUTHERN COMFORT: Seaesoned scenesters will immediately call out the fact that Fight Paris who’s philosophy is party hard, work harder sound a lot like Every Time I Die thanks to the spastic vocal strut put forth by singer Kevin Phillips. He’s a handful, like a violent tornado spinning out of control, and he’s backed by countrified, rebellious, and thoroughly rowdy, Southern comfort rock riffs—like Lynyrd Skynyrd, only much more metallic. Fight Paris revels in the Southern sound on Paradise, Found, which isn’t surprising, given the fact that the band is from Atlanta, Georgia. This type of music must be in their DNA, which is what makes Paradise, Found sound so natural, as opposed to very forced. What’s magical about this album is that it will have you believing you’re a good ol’ boy, a Confederate rebel with a taste for distorted, squalling metal. It effectively merges both worlds and both sounds, which is not an easy task for such a brand new band to accomplish. Paradise, Found has two speeds: fast and faster. This album is a party put to tape, and it moves at breakneck pace from start to finish. With tracks like “Fuck Me Stilettos,” “You Gotta Stop and Smell the Roses,” “ Rock N’ Roll Soul,” and “Complete Heat,” Paradise Found goes down like a shot of Southern Comfort—hard but good.

Intertwining hardcore music and a hardcore lifestyle, the five men that comprise Fight Paris believe in the work hard, party harder mantra, and it definitely spills over on the 10-track PARADISE, FOUND. Jagged guitars, pounding rhythms, and chaotic vocals are staples here, instantaneously whipping up a party as the opening of “Fuck Me Stilettos” blasts through your speakers. Taking the dirty aspects of ‘80s cock rock and kicking them straight down your throat with a hardcore punk aesthetic, Fight Paris, taking cues from likeminded acts such as Every Time I Die and Avenged Sevenfold, are out to not only take over the rock world, but to outdo the legendary stories of Motley Crue, Guns ‘N Roses, and countless other lucky bastards that have survived rock ‘n’ roll’s excess. While they are miles away, songs like “One Track Mind” and “Southern Comfort” display a fine start.

Fight Paris is part of the new generation of rock combining past influences like AC/DC and Guns N’ Roses with screeching vocals and far more erratic guitars. The impatient tempo of the tracks on Paradise, Found occasionally hop around throughout the song. Their love for rock n’ roll is proclaimed in “Better Than Elvis,” “Whether it’s drinkin’, fuckin’, or drugs, with all three, man, I’m in love!” They carry this theme through the collection with songs like “Southern Comfort” and “Fuck me Stilettos.” Standing out from other tracks on the album, “100 Proof Woman” has the most classic rock sound but with vocals that sound like a kid throwing a temper tantrum. “Rock and Roll Soul” is just that, and makes the overall influence unmistakable with a story about the narrator selling his soul to the devil because he thinks he would be in good company in Hell. “I sold my soul for rock n’ roll, so Hell’s where I’m gonna go.” If you’re looking to stay on top of rock n’ roll’s never ending changes and find a companion to classic favorites, this album is one to look for in the up and coming wave of rock.

If the lyrics of Paradise, Found are to be believed, when the members of Fight Paris finish having sex, they just, well, have more sex. Or make fun of the guys dating women they just had sex with. Paradise, indeed. What makes the Atlanta quintet more than just a bunch of trash-talking players is the fierce punk-metal fusion backing up their cock-rock attitude. Songs like “One Track Mind” and “Destroyer” mine grooves meaty enough to teach the average Warp Tour band a thing or two about filling the slam-dance floor. Find this Paradise or it’s your loss.

Seasoned scenesters will immediately call out the fact that Fight Paris, who's philosophy is 'party hard, work harder,' sound like Every Time I Die. And we're not going to deny that. Fight Paris, thanks to the spastic, screamy vocal strut put forth by singer Kevin Phillips. He's a handful, like a violent tornado spinning out of control, and he's backed by countrified, rebellious, and thoroughly rowdy. Southern rock riffs. Like Lynyrd Skynyrd, only much more metallic. Sure, Every Time I Die are known for their affinity for dirty riff making. But Fight Paris revel in the Southern sound on Paradise, Found, which isn't surprising, given the fact that the band are from Atlanta, Georgia. This type of music is in their DNA, their platelets, and their red blood cells, which is what makes Paradise, Found feel very natural, as opposed to very forced. What's magical about Paradise, Found is that it'll lead you to believe that you're a good ole boy, a confederate rebel with a taste for distorted, squalling metal. It effectively merges both worlds and both sounds, which is not an easy task for such a brand new band to accomplish. Paradise, Found has two speeds: fast, and faster. The album's a party put to tape, and it moves at breakneck pace from start to finish. "Fuck Me Stilettos," "You Gotta Stop And Smell The Roses," "Rock 'N Roll Soul," and "Complete Heat" go down like a shot of Southern Comfort: hard but worth it.

Featuring only a few rockalicious solos, most of Fight Paris' rock 'n roll sound comes from guitar riffs and the band's renegade rock attitude in its lyrics. "Complete Heat's" lyrics ("From your hands to your feet / I'll make you feel the heat / And give you some loving that's sticky-sweet") and "Fuck Me Stilettos" ("Damn right that slut's my bitch / She sucked my goddamn dick") both personify Fight Paris' 'party hard, work harder motto'. Fight Paris offers a one-track vocal attack courtesy of Kevin Phillips, and while it's certainly not all that versatile, it doesn't matter. Jason Krutzky (drums), Neil Warren and Matt Tanner (guitars) and Champ Champagne (bass) take care of that, offering a varied yet concise rock-core sound on Paradise, Found. The result is a gritty rock sound that's not quite at home among heavy metal nor hardcore music. But, Fight Paris will find a home in both genres, hopefully to great praise. Ultimately, Paradise, Lost, the band's Trustkill Records debut, is a dirty rock 'n roll meets hardcore outing focusing more on rockabilly sensibility than on mosh-heavy breakdowns. While it's not as old-school as the Hellacopters, it certainly has balls. With 10 tracks in the two- to four-minute range, each with enough attitude to knock the unfaithful to the dance floor, Paradise, Found is just what the doctor ordered. Fight Paris can both obliterate the redundant stream of metalcore that's been flooding the metal scene, as well as keep the hardcore faithful happy.

Get ready to fight, fuck, party, and so much more. Put the kids to bed, because Fight Paris will corrupt their fragile minds with indecent thoughts of debauchery. What brings to attention when listening to FP is a mix of Every Time I Die and 2 Live Crew. You might find that one hell of a comparison, but the guys have the hardcore style and presence of ETID and the lyrical style of 2 Live Crew. Let's not forget the southern rock influence that shines throughout this album (prime example is "Destroyer"). One might think the guys are putting on a front to make a false image, but FP isn't here to be an image, they are to drink and knock some boots and partying all night long. It's good to see a band bring back the mentality that was back in the 80's hair metal days. That is when music was fun and made you want to go out on a Friday night and get completely loaded and take home some person you just met. Too much music lately has been about hostility and depression. Finally, Fight Paris breaks that mold and brings their own style of party music that mixes southern rock and hardcore. The "explicit warning" sticker that will be accompanying "Paradise, Found" is just plain hilarious. If only the parents knew what their children will probably be buying, they'd shit a brick. "Paradise, Found" is the anthem of 2005.

Paradise, Found, the Trustkill debut from the Atlanta, GA outfit Fight Paris, sounds like the backdrop to a hazy, toxin-fueled evening on the town. Sparing no expense in their attempt to put sex and snarling attitude back into rock n’ roll, their soundtrack of sin pulsates with crushing guitars on tracks like "Complete Heat" and "Deville." Fight Paris exhibit the same menacing qualities that make The Bronx and Every Time I Die so urgent and invigorating, with a little Henry Rollins circa Black Flag thrown in for good measure. Without going into fitting, and we must admit tempting, pornographic analogies, Fight Paris is an overindulgent, and well overdue band that fully embraces that which is sex, drugs and rock n’ roll. If you like dangerous rock n’ roll that feels like the equivalent to way too many shots of tequila, you will feel right at home with Fight Paris.

Hop aboard for the ride of your lives! Get ready bitches, it's Fight Paris! Once in a blue moon a band arrives at our door and blows Hammer's fucking socks off. So if you are bogged down with the self-loathing of nu-metal, tired of the tear-jerks of whinging emo or fed-up with the tough-guy fisticuffs of modern hardcore, we have just the remedy! Exploding onto your stereos with the energy of a thousand Duracell bunnies, the musical kick-ass of The Bronx meets Every Time I Die and the unrelenting sex drive of Tommy Lee, Fight Paris are what we've all been waiting for. Signing earlier this year to the infamous New Jersey-based Trustkill Records, this charismatic five-piece - including the finely-dubbed Champ Champagne on bass - are here to set your world alight with their uncompromising sex, drugs, drink, more sex, more drink and rock'n'fucking roll. It's dirty, exciting, filthy metal with a modern 'core' twist. It's punk and rock and hardcore and funk and everything in between. It's crazy, fun, totally addictive and if this debut 10-track album is a mere taster of what's to come, then the future's looking mighty bright for this Atlanta noise crew. Opener 'Fuck Me Stilettos' is one hell of a mission statement. Fast and frantic with dynamic rhythm switches, it grabs you by the balls (or whatever else is handy) and doesn't let go for the duration of the record. Vocalist Kevin Phillips screeches, gasps and yells his way through each hell-bent composition with a desperate yet throw-away drunken leer, whilst his band mates chuck every available limb and effort into forging passionate and attention holding modern metal. Much to our joy, each track is littered with the most ego-swelling, brash and explosive lyrics heard this side of Motley Crue or Alice Cooper. "I wanna fuck till I die/I want to drink till I die", "All the ladies with the pretty faces/I'll be waiting back stage to give you what you need", "I go to heaven for the weather/I go to hell for the company', "I'm feeling fine but I'm looking better",are just brief snippets of the somewhat arrogant, utterly confident and totally compelling brilliance of this act. Whether you are up for something new and exciting, curious about the future of metal, or ready for a pissed-up kick up the arse, Fight Paris will make 2005 the year for you. As yet, they have no European distribution (why, oh why the hell not?!) but as the boys put it so well themselves: "I know what you're thinking/you're thinking we must be faking/but I've only got one thing left to say/Fight Paris is here to fucking stay!"