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This is pretty straightforward punk’n’roll, and some might even call it pop punk. Guitar, bass, drums, vocals; mid-tempo and super catchy. It sounds like all members help out on the vocals, which creates some nice harmonies, and enhances the catchy factor. The song lyrics are mostly goofy and silly. It’s a fun record, meant to be enjoyed casually and not seriously. As soon as I put the record on, I was reminded of the old Seattle band HEAD.
Watching JUDY AND THE JERKS play was one of the highlights of 2018! What a group! It’s a true and total brat attack like SIN 34 and Thrasher Skate Rock comps, but in a dream not a drab reenactment broscape. This is a sick hardcore 45: it sounds like the Hardcore California book in a cool and refreshing way, like stealing a soda on one of these end-of-the-world hot days. It’s a pleasure and it’s a punch in the face! You will like the feeling, you will imagine yourself in the crowd of Decline while listening to it… Every song is perfect, furious bratty hardcore for true punks. Can’t wait to get the LP!
While it’s not relevant to the music, this is one of the funniest record names I’ve heard in ages, and the accompanying picture sleeve is perfect. It’s all about the instrumentals here, as all four songs are instrumentals. While most of it is ’60s influenced surf, different songs have different feels, including upbeat and almost funky, or dark and eerie. There’s even a cover of “Without You,” a ’70s ballad made famous by HARRY NILSSON, but also recorded by BADFINGER and AIR SUPPLY. You’re in great company, guys. Solid release. Blue vinyl.
I’ve seen these guys a few times, but this full-length really bumps them up a notch or two for me. Well-produced punk rock’n’roll that has an early SAINTS quality. Maybe they’ve gotten more garage over the years? There’s still a touch of pop punk here, but as a whole, this rocks pretty good.
This is the second 7″ from these Portland rockers. A couple hard rock punk crunchers in the MC5 and STOOGES-influenced vein, and in more current terms, think TURBONEGRO. Cool stuff, and “Berlin City” is an instant classic!
London jangling punks GAME play scathing, hexing, barking hardcore in the style of MUSHROOM ATTACK, the COMES, the STALIN, CHARGE, NEGLECT, and NO STATIK, orated with Polish and English command. Vocals are punctuated with pounding harsh rhythm, while the songwriting varies from anthemic circle pit hardcore to thrashing ’80s punk metal. This LP is powerfully energetic, with surprising changes yet flowing evenly from start to finish. Encapsulating, hasty, bewitching and in complete control. Its production is perfectly clear, as well as engineered to accentuate what makes GAME on top, making it an immediately engaging listen. Bizarrely kvlt art by Nicky Rat.
Third (duh) album from Memphis’ NOTS, now a trio (duh again). NOTS’ unique take on punk—wild psych tinges and tight post-punk rhythms, always driving in inventive directions—is one of my faves in recent memory, and 3 finds the band operating at their most economic. The songs are more exacting and, coupled with a recording / production that peels back much of the shadow and effect from prior releases, their finest batch to date (see “Rational Actor” and “Woman Alone” especially!). These slight adjustments in attack and presentation all come together to propel a more natural sound, albeit one still permeated with drum pound, synth bleating, and guitar workout. I’m also really struck by Natalie’s vocals here as well: she has never sounded better or punker on record. While I’ve been on board with their prior releases, I flat-out fuckin’ love this one. Highest recommendation.
What do you get when you mix the more “extreme” NWOBHM like VENOM with modern D-beat like IMPALERS? Washington DC thrashers WITCHTRIAL is what! As you probably guessed from their name, this band is heavy fucking metal that runs an influence gamut that includes SLAYER and CANDLEMASS, among others. That being said, the D-beat vibes persist throughout, making this one a dangerous gateway for punks who dabble in metal. Be careful with this stuff, kids. It’s all fun and games until you’re forking over $80 to see JUDAS PRIEST and DOKKEN on a Tuesday night. Highly recommended!
The latest full-length from Bradford post-punk legends 1919 slinks forth with catchy melodic abrasion. Harmonies as mesmerizing as the CHURCH; serpentine cradle-shaking akin to BAUHAUS; contemporary angst reminding of the ESTRANGED, MOIRA SCAR, and SEX GANG CHILDREN; the twitching ennui of MIDNIGHT OIL; and even the pop spin cycle Á la CULTURE ABUSE, with a slack standard of SUEDE. 1919 have composed at times an optimistic, albeit still-life and morose effort that’s smoother than their tribal ’80s death rock sound, exploring a goth-gazing that is absolutely worth checking out. Introduce yourself as if they were the newest sensation in this darkwave movement, as if they weren’t around 35 years ago already nailing that fresh pine coffin.
The worst job I ever had was working for a balloon wholesale company. As a result, I don’t like clowns. A song called “Clown Pain,” whether or not about literal clowns, strikes a positive chord with me. “Thank you for my clown pain.” Of course, I can relate to “Rent Quest” as well. BRANDY’s music is dirty and throbbing and relentless. It leaves you anxiously on edge. The vocals are rough and pleading. The whole thing is perfect.
You probably know that this is a RIXE (and ex-YOUTH AVOIDERS) member’s solo project—and it’s pretty apparent on the surface—but this has more of a melodic punk sound than Oi! The dude writes amazing songs that I can imagine pretty much anyone liking, regardless of preference. I must point out that aside from his penchant for writing a hook, the reason we’re all enamored by this is the perfectly balanced production. Raw, gritty, and clear, with a dreamy kick-and-snare thud that you feel as much as you hear. “Chacun Pour Soi” is basically an amped-up FLOCK OF SEAGULLS song and is highly addictive, “Condor” shows hardcore roots, and “Vengeance” is a spot-on cover of a deep cut on the 1984 The Second compilation (I used to put this song on a lot of mix tapes, so this is quite validating to hear). I imagine this record is doing fine without my praise, but for whatever it’s worth, you all should get it. This 12″ compiles two short tapes that are likely very limited.
While not expanding the boundaries of punk, this is certainly not bad. It’s fast as hell, catchy, political, and sorta rad. Snotty, gravelly vocals give this dudely pop punk a street punk edge. Not necessarily barking up my tree specifically, but it seems like it’s probably a tree close by a tree in my neighborhood. I feel like this would have been a solid release on an early ’90s Epitaph roster, and I would have totally dug it.
These are the bands that LEFTÖVER CRACK has spawned. Abrasive but catchy “fukk you” attitude, but totally melodic, and the chorus of “Nothing Left” demands a singalong, just as the right channel guitar begs to be turned down in the mix because you can’t hear anything else. I don’t say this often in these pages, but Minneapolis’ TRINITY TEST are starter punk for newcomers. If you’ve been in the game for more than a few months, then you’ve likely already moved past these sounds. Not to say that they aren’t important and/or relevant, just to say that this old man isn’t moved by them.
A loose and odd duckling from Montreal. PROTRUDERS try their hand at all manner of agitated sounds: A pumpin’ take on trad’ rock’n’roll that’s instinctively punk and off in the right sorta way. Their attitudinal reference points seem to (mostly) sprout from the world of Cle’ proto-punk, with “Wrong Way Sign” (the six plus minute centerpiece) recalling so much MIRRORS or ROCKET FROM THE TOMBS magic that I’m liable to cite that alone as worth the price of admission. After repeated listens (yes, it prompts them), I dig the longer, room-to-roam moments over the more direct numbers, but even the chopped and speedy “Stabilizer” crumbles coolly. Quality beef here, folks, ’specially for the zonked hairballs out there.
If you are familiar with L.A.’s power pop punk band MANIAC, then you will instantly recognize Zache Davis’s fuzzed and angular vocals. He has such a signature sound I don’t think he could (or should) ever shake it. “Dolphin Encounters,” “Minotaur Dreams,” and “Switching the Code” all are heavy on power pop downstroke, with well-crafted hooks and earworm melodies that give their melodic pop punk a fuller and more complex sound. My favorite on this EP is “Obsolete Man,” which is the sweetest of the bunch, with full weaving angular melodies and just a damn good pop song. WEIRD NUMBERS is a modern twist on retro power pop, and it’s solid. This particular arrangement of Zache Davis (MANIC, GIRLS), Colin Griffiths (GIRLS), and Ethan Jocobsen (TOURIST) is a Seattle outfit. However with Zache’s roots in L.A., I have a feeling that they’ll be cruising up and down the West Coast soon.
I know this shit is almost a year old now, but uuuugggghhhh FEALTY are so good. The 2017 demo was beyond crucial, and 2018’s Peace Is Our Problem only tightened their grip on dominance. Uncomfortable and in-your-face bombastic anarcho punk, heavy on the low end and desperation, this New York trio sounds like you feel after a fight you didn’t know was coming. You’re confused, full of adrenaline…and ready for more.
This one-sided 12″ is just oozing with mincecore contempt, and is sure to make your head pop like an infected pustule. HORRIBLE PAIN out of Winnipeg barfs out some sickening, bile-grind that hates music, and has no time for anything but full-blast filth. UNHOLY GRAVE fans take note: Dayton, Ohio’s SULFURIC CAUTERY likes music even less, and rolls right over you like a tidal wave of medical waste. There is megaton distortion, foul growls, and a machine gun snare drum tuned so high, you’ll wish you were never born. I recommend this for the most deranged grind freaks only. Everyone else should stay well away.
Basic punk rock’n’roll, with the emphasis on basic and rock. Sure, this isn’t paint-by-numbers barre chord punk for teens, and it’s certainly fairly passionate and believable, but it’s kinda like a mix of 80s KISS riffs, tougher-than-most Midwest emo from the 00s, cheap beer, perfect denim vests, and an attempt at accessibility. As a side note: somebody threw down some serious coin on this thing. Full-color gatefold with 3-D inner artwork and free 3-D glasses. Extra points for mentioning Jeppson’s Malört liquor, but this is a hard listen, even for a diehard fan of Ace and his riffs.
FRONTIER CLUB is an odd name for a band from Southern California, as it brings to mind that old timey SoCal record label that put out Group Sex and the Blue Album? Would you ever name your band “Slash Team” or “Dangerous House”? Anyway, this isn’t FRONTIER CLUB’s first record, so I’m sure somebody’s already picked up on that. As it stands, this slab is much more post-punk than CIRCLE JERKS, or even TSOL. Plenty o’ sharp guitars, plaintive vocals (just enough emoting to keep it interesting), and lockstep drums and bass. Good shit. The guitar on these three tracks is particularly tough and muscular, but still a little dark, a little gothic, and a little mysterious—kind of like a jock who works out two hours a day but also wears a beret and a black trenchcoat or, alternatively, Xena Warrior Princess. Similar to the WYNONA RIDERS, but with different singing and much more contemporary than that band ever was. Less dreary than it could be, more fun than it should be. Like it.
One of my favorites. These Wyoming guys have been dishing out the quality pop punk for close to twenty years, and this is their first full length of originals since the passing of their drummer Brandon in 2015. Another full-length packed with RAMONES-influenced pop punk, with a few hard rockers and slower tunes to mix it up. Great album, great band!
A sequel of sorts to the first volume: the S.U.S. / ONE TRICK COBRA split EP, also released by the long-running TFC Records in 2009; this is a seventeen-track collection of largely raw demos, practice recordings, and a few live tracks from mostly unknown and unheralded late ’80s Corpus Christi, TX hardcore bands. DEMORALIZED, SUBVERSION, BRUTAL POVERTY, PURE HATE, JOYWAN, the KRAYONS, KILLJOY, the HERSHEY SQUIRTS, BIG MOUTH, and POETIC NOISE contribute one to three lower-fi songs apiece. In a way, it could almost be a snapshot of anywhere in the US at that time, though the speedy turns of ultra-quick thrash—a Texas hallmark cemented by the likes of DRI, DRESDEN 45, and MANCHURIAN CANDIDATES—do both date and location stamp the recordings. There’s a wonderful nascent energy here, with SST / CRUZ records-style quirkiness, deigns to ’80s singalong hardcore, thrash, and melody all being stirred in self-expression without any pretension beyond playing a vets hall as an opener for NO FRAUD or DESPERATE MINDS. And that rules. It’s like a paean to a simpler time where people didn’t really do bands with much ambition beyond having fun and entertaining their friends, because the overarching larger hardcore scene had collapsed and a smaller, stronger DIY culture hadn’t splintered and solidified to a point to give you many more options beyond that. So these tracks ring pretty earnest and fun. You might not find your new favorite band here, but you’ll hear a lot of bands that remind you of that friend’s band that was pretty good but just did a demo you totally wish you still had a copy of. Pressed on mottled transparent brown vinyl, and includes a brief insert with short band descriptions and photos. Fun listen.
For real: if this is what the crossroads of modern “noise rock” and throwback “emo” and “hardcore” sounds like, then I am fukkn sold. I’m reminded of WHITE TRASH SUPERMAN (high praise) as much as infectious and high-energy early ’90s college radio punk or classic Midwest hardcore—think early Homestead Records delivered with the ingredients that made ADOLESCENTS’ blue album. You recognize everything here, even though you’ve never quite heard it like this…and BUFFET are having fun. And it shows. Full endorsement.
Twelve years after their first LP, this highly regarded Polish outfit gives their third album. I imagine much of the magic and poetry is lost in translation, but from what I can tell, the major theme here is a very elaborate and nuanced fuck you to the patriarchy (often addressing fat shaming/body policing). Standard song structures are pretty much completely thrown out, and the arrangement of short and long songs force a pushing and pulling feeling across the album. They really like to drag a riff out to create tension or drama; sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. It’s a vocal-forward mix, an intentional choice to put the message in the forefront, but that’s not to detract from the abundance and variety of melody coming from the rest of the band. The beginning of the record was a bit of a slog for me to get through: a minute and a half intro that sounds like an actual NOFX gallop into a three minute drumless monologue-style part…pretty emo basically. I do believe though that it’s my own problem for not knowing Polish, and not the band’s problem. The record is full of melody and a viciousness that is unrivaled by most melodic hardcore records I’ve heard—see for example “Wściekłyszpaler,” which was on their previous EP, and has a cool and recommended music video about the huge anti anti-abortion protest in 2016.
Second single from the SMOG: a burning bright light from Japan’s now-time punk scene. Their prior single checked all my obsessive boxes: ace design, an absurdly limited pressing, and excellent songs, each traipsing across both spirited DIY and razorblade punk in a way that made it difficult to pigeonhole. This second single follows in line but in much more confident fashion. There’s this dark, forward-falling sound in the SMOG that recalls heavies from Tokyo Rockers, but then “Dusty World” appears and their sound brightens toward near-danceable post-punk. The shift is not jarring at all, just serves as an indication of adaptability and proof that they’ve got plenty to play with. Another drool-worthy offering. Seek this out!
File this one in the “must listen” column, and brace yourself. It sounds weird, it sounds like pure chaos, it sounds….well, just listen. All of the ramshackle fury of early ’80s Italy tempered with ’00s fastcore, and a thick, noisy delivery. I could listen to this a thousand times and not get bored…the guitar is weird, the vocals are weird, the guitar overdubs are ever weirder—it’s just…off. Which means it’s just…right. These Budapest kids have never let me down, but I wasn’t expecting to be this floored. Highest recommendation.
This Italian pop punk band does the QUEERS / SCREECHING WEASEL thing. They have no problem pulling it off, as this is pretty solid. Unfortunately, this doesn’t really stand out in this well-populated genre. I’m sure they are great for the locals though, and this does have some gems. However, to their credit, this is their eighth album in twenty-two years. Best for RAMONES-esque punk completists and locals, but not a bad CD.
RAMOMS are the mom-punk RAMONES. Wincing yet? “Gritty Is A Punk” replaces Judy with the Philadelphia Flyers’ mascot. Oooooph. “Boogie Not Snot” is not a reworked “Carbona Not Glue,” but instead a cutesy gross-out on “Blitzkrieg Bop.” A faithful phone-in of “Rockaway Beach” rounds things out. Pure cringe-inducing novelty.
Yes yes yes! I think you should know that, although I am indeed a huge FLESHIES fan, I came pretty damn late to the party, and I don’t have a proper excuse. Their trademarked loud’n’ugly noise, ramming headfirst and at lightspeed into downright lovely anthemic ballads and a penchant for DEVO-esque quirk and spazz is right up my alley. Now don’t get me wrong, this is a great album, but a lot of the precious goof is missing. The sweet, tender quirk-and-jerk just aren’t in full force. I could chalk this up to a bad mix, as not only the drums, but also John’s absolutely killer strained rat vocals are buried pretty damn deep in the mix, or maybe they are just embracing their darker, tougher exterior in these trying times. But all in all, this is an entirely rad slab; I just found myself seriously missing those fucked up tics that sets this stellar band apart from nearly every other loud-ass rock band on the planet.
The ’90s revival continues. KNOWSO perform robotic, kinetic nerd punk: descendants of DEVO, but with a sound that’s part NOMEANSNO, part SERVOTRON. The two short songs here form a perfectly digestible snippet of pocket-protector punk.
A completely ripping follow-up to this Virginia band’s 2017 release. While not particularly sounding like LIFE’S BLOOD, these six tracks charge with the same ’80s hardcore center, a savagely spit vocal assault, and quick guitar-driven breakdowns. The vocals give it a little bit of the spastic feel of YDI, as they struggle to fit all the rage in, while the music brings to mind a lot of well-played, turn-on-a-dime late ’80s Canadian hardcore such as YOUTH YOUTH YOUTH or FAIR WARNING, where musical chops both embellished and tempered the chaos. Anger simmers this one over to the right point though, with totally pissed lyrics and dark, stippled artwork of cages, mental and otherwise. The notebook-scrawl lyric sheet was a tough read, but otherwise, great EP!
What is there to say about a record that somehow evokes the view from a teenage bedroom in some Scottish new town circa 1982 at the same time as a modern mall food court in modern-day San Francisco? Tightly wound sounds formed in the nucleus of UKDIY and the post-JAM mod revival—the music is nostalgic: painting a picture of youth trying to escape a drab existence thru art school or technical college, dreaming of Italian adventures as their friends become motorcycle cops and hippies park their BMWs where their revolutionary dreams once were. This record is a crafty cigarette in a stairway outside an indie disco that plays STRETCHEADS into SHOP ASSISTANTS. This record bridges Glasgow in some mystical undetermined past with San Francisco in a very non-nostalgic present. Allan McNaughton’s very distinctive vocals will sound familiar to fans of GIANT HAYSTACKS and AIRFIX KITS, but this record has less of a D BOON paint coat than those groups, and more of an UNDERTONES 45s and cheap charity shop parka glow. Comes with a super sick lyric booklet, which is a true visual delight. Recommended!
This is an interesting compilation of L.A. bands. The genres include garage, surf, pop, metal(-ish), and there’s even a RAMONE (Richie). The LP flow is a bit disjointed, and some tunes are too slickly produced, but there is probably at least one song everyone will like. Some of the standout bands are KID FLAMINGO, the 7 AND 6, the NIGHT TIMES, the AZMATICS, the OSTEOBLASTS, the TURBULENT HEARTS and the SLOP.
These thirteen songs encapsulate the entirety of this French hardcore band’s existence: including a demo, two split EPs and a CDEP. A trip through the fliers on the inner sleeve might make for some good insight into their sound: HATEBREED, FLOORPUNCH, BLOOD FOR BLOOD, BLOODLET, FOUR HUNDRED YEARS, and MILEMARKER. Well, those last two make no sense, but whatever. They mostly stick to some real normal sounding tough guy hardcore, with bits and pieces leaning toward an EARTH CRISIS type metal guitar, and little hits at emotional hardcore (“Long Day” has these long emotional parts that are the real winner here). The sound is unfortunately not so great all around, with the demo being a particularly rough listen. It’s also a bit hard to believe that they printed the lyrics, as some of them sound like childish rantings.
It is an honor to review this exhumation of a 1993 project by BEYOND DESCRIPTION’s alter ego. DISCRIPT play pulverizing, heavy D-beat fury with muffled riffs, china hits, cybernetic effects, putting forth themes of dissatisfaction with society and its inherent rudeness, all sung in Japanese with vapid flavor and viscous flow. Reminds me of the VARUKERS channeling CORRUPTED. Or an old obscure Swedish HC favorite VISIONS. What an intense combo—and DISCRIPT is killing it after 25 years of grimacing slumber. Sonic terror level red. If this were any louder I’d be knocking shit off the speakers. Five tracks of sheer awesome grunting bestial Japanese crust that have left all metal-grind preceding reputations in the dust.
As you may have guessed, the title track is an ode to every punk’s favorite German football club. Definitely more on the rollicking tuneful punk side of things than straight up Oi! Even though I can’t understand what they’re singing about (or maybe because?) I have come to a realization that this style of music just sounds really good in Polish.
Starting your LP with a straight lift of HÜSKER DÜ’s “I Apologize” is a really good way to get my attention. After that hook, Poland’s BULBULATORS drop a baker’s dozen of catchy Eastern European punk, with a shameless ear for the addictive and anthemic. “Żywe Trupy” is perhaps the most extreme and/or perfect example, and my mono-linguistic self is singing along in a Polish language that I do not understand as soon as the first chorus drops. Recorded in 2007, but given the vinyl treatment for the first time by Combat Rock and perennial Polish punk historians Pasażer.
While this might not be as raw, or pleasantly rough around the edges, as their earlier output, I don’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t say it was still passionate, punk as hell, and completely vital. Musically, it seems like a good mix of ’84 TSOL without all that reverb, some delay-heavy post-punk with a pinch of crust, topped off with some oddly-placed pop sensibilities. The lyrics, sung completely in Polish, are still totally anti-fascist, with a slight bend towards some dark-ass ambivalence. Sure, they aren’t the kings they once were back in 1981, but they have certainly aged really well. Despite my raised eyebrow over the fancier, modern rock production, this is a killer release from some goddamn stalwarts. Totally dig this.
BOZO SHMO was a weird, freaky clown-punk band that existed in the mid-to-late ’80s on the eastern seaboard (New York?) and is definitely hard to pin down. When I looked at this LP and saw people dressed up like a low-budget hobo circus with big smiles, you better believe that I had my doubts. There are only five studio tracks on here, while the rest of the LP is made up of live recordings (good quality) and practice recordings (fair quality). Some of it sounds like new wave-y ’80s synth punk that makes me think of the DICKIES, DANCING CIGARETTES, and even traces of LOST KIDS. It can be super catchy, but then they trail off into super maniac mode. It can get really goofy and “zany,” treading into territory that is not unlike a less technical MR BUNGLE, or just outright freak-out music. They also cover the RAMONES, JIMI HENDRIX, and more, making it all their own. There is an archival zine included, which gives you a hint of what it might have been like to see a bunch of fucked up clowns on stage playing manic freak shit in 1988. I’m still confused.
Solid jams with anthemic riffs from Queens, New York. There’s far more than meets the ear at first. This record avoids the generic monotony of gruff bro pop punk, and steers more into the direction of being a little more musical, with thoughtful guitar leads and a killer vocal performance. Definitely something for fans of current sad, nuanced, wall-of-sound melodic punk like VACATION to check out.
Anthemic, self-professed dad-punk. Their mix of classic ’80s US punk and catchy ’77 UK works frighteningly well, and I dare say that this one is a fair mark above their debut effort. This isn’t what I would reach for unprovoked, but fukk me if it isn’t great.
A solid debut from old hands from VIOLENT ARREST, GERIATRIC UNIT, FOUR LETTER WORD and MEATFLY. Perfidious Albion (an 18th Century French term of “Treacherous Britain” ) essentially reunites three quarters of HERESY, with Welly from Artcore zine on vocals. The early brute and mechanical Boston hardcore is such, plus underlying influence of a large swath of mid-’80s UKHC, and while this doesn’t seize on the speed of SIEGE that was so influential to that generation, it does echo some of that The Kids Will Have Their Say-style blunt, fast straightforward hardcore, twisted around a melodic, chorus-driven core. The strife and shadow of Brexit looms hard in these eight tracks, reactive in the best way of early hardcore. The vocals snarl over the top with clear condemnation of current greed, the soullessness of the digital world, the rise of the right wing, and horrific government rulers, while also reflecting about personal achievement and growth. It’s a worthy outing, with careful attention to the sleeve, and a great recording that captures their interesting balance of biting hardcore and punchy melodic punk—but maybe a nudge harder in either direction would sink the teeth in deeper.
So far as I can tell, HOWL IN THE TYPEWRITER have been a mainstay of the UK underground punk/electronic/noise scene since the ’80s. Indeed, I probably traded tapes with this chap back in the days when that’s what any self-respecting/somewhat self-aware young punker did with their time and dole money. Like many such projects, it’s the brainchild and labor of love of one individual. And this effort is a single-track concept album about the evils of consumerism, advertising, and all the bad stuff betwixt both. Clocking in at just over an hour, and with a mishmash of stylings that includes thrashy punk, noise, and electronica; with lots of cut-ups, loops, jingles, adverts and stuff in between songs, it’s considerably more akin to CRASS’s Yes Sir, I Will than NOFX’s The Decline or the SUBHUMANS’s From the Cradle to the Grave (or even the DAMNED’s “Curtain Call”), but there you have it. Dozens of other underground luminaries add their vocal stylings to the oft-repeated refrain that runs through: “We don’t fucking want / what you’re trying to fucking sell / shove it up your fucking arse / then fuck off and go to hell.” At its best, it reminds me of CHUMBAWAMBA’s Pictures of Starving Children Sell Records, along with the AUTONOMADS. My six-year-old kids thought it sounded “pretty crazy.”
Absolutely no information, save for a sticker that says “UHHUH,” but this is killer and has been on constant repeat. Just two quick songs, but a perfect mesh of spastic garage and drugged-out dancey teen angst (most likely played by old dudes). Low-budget sweet rock! Check it!
LAUNCHER plays manic punk that sounds more solidified, tighter, and crazier than their demo from last year, which was already good. They have hooks and melody, but also a wonky weirdness in the guitar that is part Greg Ginn and part just maniac energy. Total fucking bounce-off-the-walls punk. FREAKEES is more straightforward, with deranged, reverb-y vocals that are on the edge of a nervous breakdown at all times. They have an intense energy and rawness that I feel is lacking in much straightforward punk, and this is excellent to my ears.
Eight-song effort of fairly high-octane garage rock’n’roll. There’s some great guitaring in here, with lots of squeals and false harmonics, and riffage that’d make the STOOGES proud. The frontman is horribly off-key with the histrionic vocals, which I can’t really get past. The band is rocking, though.
GUFF aren’t “traditional Norwegian hardcore” per se, though I’m hearing some ANGOR WAT influence in the guitar. What’s not to enjoy about the pure and honest scrappiness, scratchy riffs, and drum gallop? They sound fresh and unpretentious, dishing out relatable hardcore punk that’s not rehashed. Yes, please please send me more releases from fresh new Norwegian punk and hardcore bands!
Holy fuck, I love the weird vocal harmonies on Finnish punk like this. Both are perfectly lo-fi—I can’t tell if these are full bands, or just a kid in his bedroom and Garageband. At some times sounding like ANDY CIGARETTES going through puberty, and at other times a teenager singing their own lyrics over the radio. This seems like it’s inspired by the early ’80s Finnish stuff I stumbled upon, like KOLLAA KESTÄÄ and RATSIA, but honestly, it’s just rad cheap punk with killer vocal melodies, and is totally and completely worth your time.
Four tracks of pile-driving metallic punk. This trio has obviously listened to lots of early ANTHRAX and METALLICA, and end up sounding like a decent STRAW DOGS (the post FU’s metal band).
If band names like EA80 or FLIEHENDE STÜRME mean anything to you, you can safely file DIE ANGST in the same category: a very specific style of somber, dramatic German punk music that’s mainly distinguishable by a low-moaning vocal style, deep from the diaphragm, with every line held out for optimal dramatization. Like if Ian Curtis fronted a discordant German rock band. The vocal style is often a deal-breaker for some folks, but I like it. Four solid laments here, for the fifteenth year of their miserable existence, plus short intro / outro tracks. For fans of the aforementioned bands, or all things comparable to KILLING JOKE.
This appears to be the first complete and definitive singles / EPs collection from this Belfast group. The ’78—’79 material is classic jagged-edged adolescent punk with a dash of that mandatory pop that’s evident in basically every Irish punk band from the ’70s. Sort of akin to more distinguished and catchy ’70s punk like THE ADVERTS, but far more juvenile. I hadn’t previously ventured into the ’80-’85 material, and turns out they predictably become more refined, with prominent new wave tendencies, but the tunes remain enjoyable, or at least listenable. Song themes don’t stray far from love, adolescent misogyny, street life, or inspiration from whatever the songwriter was reading at the time. “I wrote this song about a girl I was dating. She told me one day she was now a Christian, so this line came to me: you’re a disease babe / your faith’s a disease I don’t wanna catch.’” Each song gets a little blurb or anecdote from the main songwriter Martin Cowan, laid out across a gatefold sleeve with the original sleeve art of each single and EP. The whole thing sounds great, and appears to be about as faithful of a collection as anyone could hope for.
