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The Great Alternative Boom of the early '90s had begun to wither on corporate FM barely halfway through the decade, but the ever-changing underground had almost entirely regenerated after two major-tag thrifting trips. In the ever-in-flux city of Boston, Karate positioned themselves as a crucial tendril in a sprawling nationwide community. They did so largely by refusing to stick to any single formula from the myriad of styles at their root-slowcore, post-hardcore, and jazz. As if to make a point, Karate's lineup went through it's own shift too. In the lead up to 1997's In Place of Real Insight, Eamonn Vitt took up the guitar, and Karate compatriot Jeff Goddard entered the fold to become the band's bassist. Armed with two guitarists, the band got significantly louder, and they smeared punk fury all over their second LP. At it's most intense moments, In Place of Real Insight bestows the kind of rowdiness that elevated hardcore base buried deep within the unconscious of their music-it comes out most vividly when Geoff Farina and Vitt trade throat-searing shouts and bite-sized barks on InchNew Martini.Inch So many lesser bands with two guitarists and a copy of In on the Kill Taker at their disposal felt the need to try their hand at being Fugazi, Karate evaded such pratfalls, though Goddard's compact, quicksilver basswork and Gavin McCarthy's fractured drumming on the bridge for InchNew NewInch contain the same rhythmic electricity that the D.C. legends wielded so well. For the most part, Karate used their larger palette to intensify their already alluring musical sensibilities. Farina and Vitt's gentle guitars nearly mirror each other as they carry the drawn-out tension of InchThe New Hangout ConditionInch to it's equanimous conclusion, though Karate wouldn't hold that mood for long; they made quick work of disrupting such peacefulness with the needling disquiet that op
