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Seattle’s LEXICON’s latest EP is a six-track lethal brainbomb of filthy noisecore at its finest. Full-on DISORDER meets CHAOS-UK-style assault without having to resort to punk cosplay mode, because we all already know punk still isn’t dead. Noise guitars and insane vocals exploding into an onslaught of rapid-fire blitzkriegs.
About a decade ago, Tina “Boom Boom” Lucchesi from the TRASHWOMEN and her life partner Jonny Cat were a two-piece garage rock tour de force called CYCLOPS, playing short, simple brutal punk songs dressed as, well, cyclopes. MONGO has the same raw energy and a similar aesthetic with songs like “I’m Dumb,” “Mongo,” and the monosyllabic “Ugh,” which has an accompanying video that is as beautifully provisional as the music. This is the kind of release that Slovenly would have put out, but it is equally at home on the legendary Die Slaughterhaus label.
This four-piece out of Leipzig turned quite a few heads last year with their debut cassette. Among the folks wowed by their odd mix of primitive post-punk, drippy garage (think Help-era THEE OH SEES), kitschy sci-fi timbres, and goth-adjacent art-punk were the good folks over at Trouble in Mind, who reissued that cassette in the US and are now here with the group’s debut LP. In her review of their last release, MRR’s Erika Elizabeth expressed hope that on their next record they might “lean even harder into the wild electro-art-punk impulses,” a sentiment I would have echoed at the time. The band, however, has leaned garage-ward. I think it still works, and fans of their debut should still find plenty to love across the twelve tracks on this LP. Any disappointment that I have stems from some potential I imagined from chalking the band’s initial sound up to a choice on their part, rather than something necessitated by their amateurism. In any event, they seem to be playing with more confidence now, the record has a beefier sound, and they really manage to craft a unique atmosphere, even if some of the songwriting is a little blander than I’d hoped. Overall, I think it’s a cool record, and it contains some absolute bangers—“Alien Alien,” with its detuned extraterrestrial beach party vibe, is one of my favorite tracks of the year. At the very least, give that a listen!
Vancouver’s PHANE blasts through four cuts of straightforward, UK82-charged punk on their Police System EP, one of which is an UNRULED cover (and the strongest showing in my opinion). Sticking to themes of menial city living and the fookin’ cops, PHANE gleefully sticks up two fingers at the system. I have no complaints, and if you’re a fan of bands like the VARUKERS and G.B.H., you’ll have none either.
I imagine there is an audience for this Czech band’s 1999 album, but it’s not me. The tracks are more dance than punk, with repetitive, skittery techno beats and tinny, distorted guitar on top. It sounds very dated, and with some of the songs running past the five and six-minute mark, they become tiresome. The lyrics may be amazing (I don’t know—I don’t have a copy of them to translate), but the music is pretty bad. If you told me this had a low-level major label distro deal in 1999 and the band made a mark at outdoor European festivals, I would totally believe you. ROZKROCK fans only for this one.
Another wonderful offering from Phantom—Berlin, Germany-based SPLIZZ takes a page out of the ’80s post-punk book, maybe something like the SOUND with rougher edges. Not totally sure what they’re getting on about, except for “Bored” which is sung in English, but the mix is great with bass way up front, dueling male/female vocals, and shimmering guitar riffs. This follows their first EP from 2019 (also self-titled) and comes out at a time when Western European post punk is in full-fledged revival. That said, SPLIZZ stands out to my ears, and has all the makings for greatness (or maybe I just can’t get enough of this type of thing)—you decide.
Challenging, avant-garde post-post-punk, pushing beyond the outer bounds of the sonic parameter staked out on their previous album, Spllit Sides, also on Feel It. This is a dense collection of songs! Although SPLLIT sounds nothing like CAPTAIN BEEFHEART, I assume this would appeal to someone for whom Trout Mask Replica is casual listening. Or maybe fans of the RESIDENTS? Angular anti-pop with swirling, chirping synths and alternating male/female vocals. In their more motorik moments, I think of FAUST and NEU!, though SPLLIT is more often scratchy and abrasive, with jerky tempo changes and atypical time signatures. Is this what math rock for egg-punks sounds like?
First things first, I think the name of this LP is genius. Musically, this record bounces around between traditional, melodic punk and Oi! In the end, I think I’d call it “street punk,” which is somehow different from Oi! to me. It’s mid-tempo and steady and pretty catchy. I like it. If not mind-blowing, I’d say this is very solid.
There’s plenty to love about a three-piece of Seattle DIY vets laying out simple, confident, and melody-packed punk with a tinge of pop and garage. If “my shit” could be narrowly defined this would fall well within its parameters. From the midtempo beats that boogie in the pocket to the charmingly disaffected vocals of Rachel Ratner, these tracks keep up the momentum set in motion on their previous full-length (released on the iconic Kill Rock Stars). There is some of that KRS flavor here without relying heavily on ’90s nostalgia, but there is that Gen X slacker patina that still fires me up well into the new millennium. A track like “Big Dipper,” with its garage-y swagger, or the snotty follow-up “Never Leave the House” both showcase the group’s strengths beautifully. The lyrics are impressively simple as well, with condensed rhythms and repetition all with an ear for satisfying rhyme scheme. “Doing It” has plenty of gems such as the ever-relatable line “I pretend to be funny, but I never get the joke / I never spend my money, but I always end up broke / Don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m doing it.” When it comes to the music, though, these are clearly folks who have known what they’re doing for a while now.
This 22-band compilation album of current Polish post-punk is a continuation of one originally released in 1986. It features never-before-released material by fledgling bands and documents a developing new wave scene. This compilation highlights a variety of sounds on a spectrum extending from melodic, avant-garde rock to dark-tinged, minimalist post-punk. Each of the bands enshrined in this collection displays their singular aural presence while the collection accentuates a striking cohesion. The gatefold 2xLP features a 24-page book archiving the scene’s existence. This collection is a great entry point into the Eastern European underground.
Brutal powerviolence out of the Philippines. Teeters more on the metal side than the punk side of PV. Super heavy, but slow and low at points. Has a doom metal element, but also reminds me of the early era of nu-metal when it was still experimental and not the cornball mallcore it later became. Lots of dissonant guitars and deeply heavy barre chords. I love non-American grindcore because they think more outside the box than their Western counterparts—always comes off more authentic and less fashionable. Really beautiful production, everything is crisp and full. Vocals are full-throttle and front and center. Everything sounds great here; super tight and groovy as hell. Well worth a spin if you’re into this type of thing.
Two unapologetic bands join forces to make the world a bit more fun. Malaysia’s greatest punk export, APÄRATTUS, delivers yet another vicious raw hardcore attack in a ANTI-CIMEX meets DOOM mash of noise. Italian motörcharged punks OVERCHARGE slam on the gas with their jams on an ANTI-CIMEX meets MOTÖRHEAD route. I can only guess that both these bands really clicked on their love for the Scandinavian Jawbreakers and decided to immortalize it on a record. A split made for the open road and the smell of gasoline.
This is another release on the very active Black Konflik label (a passionate enterprise indeed), with yet another Japanese hardcore band that I am clueless about. Which, in fact, is a lovely feeling, as it allows me to register new bands, expand my knowledge, and give me new opportunities to outshine (if not outcrust) the competition during important punk social events like the annual Punk Nerds Symposium. I was expecting 暴力装置 (BOROYOKU SOHCHI) to deliver Burning Spirits hardcore but, beside the song “State Power” that does abide rather gloriously by the epic standards of the genre, the main influence is beefy Swedish hardcore. The vocals are right between BASTARD’s Tokurow and CIMEX’s Freke. The riffs and overall songwriting clearly point to ’90s ANTI-CIMEX and the bands that worked on that specific angle, like NAILBITER or early WIND OF PAIN (to name just a few). I am not convinced by the production though, there is too much reverb on the vocals for me and the sound sometimes makes me feel like I am listening to the band underwater. I think it would have sounded more powerful and impactful with less effects. Still, it does the job, I really like the vocal tone, and I had a good time listening to the five songs, so I may just be an ungrateful bastard like my dad always told me when I skipped classes.
This is just not my thing. Berlin’s CHOIR BOYS are certainly talented at their instruments and what they do, but I just can’t get into it. “Chaotic hardcore” is a bit of a coin-toss genre for this reviewer—I dig DEADGUY, I dig RORSCHACH, but I don’t dig this. It’s not complex enough to grab my attention, and the riffs that are played just do not register. Once it reaches “2000,” the tracks just become second-long blasts of whatever—just makes it feel like nothing more than a mere gimmick. This isn’t to say that you won’t enjoy it; maybe I’m just a philistine, but I am not interested in this.
If you’re only familiar with COMATEENS’ mersh early/mid-’80s synth pop/new wave dance sound, this reissue of some of their earliest material will likely throw you for a bit of a loop. Bassist/vocalist Nick O. Teen (né Nick Dembling) takes the lead on “Danger Zone” (which was actually the B-side of COMATEENS’ debut 1979 single), and it’s more KBD than MTV; an almost VOIDOIDS-ish punk rave-up with the sort of effervescent, undeniably pure pop choruses that graced countless now-classic Ork Records singles. When guitarist/vocalist Ramona Jan left the band in 1980, she brought their unreleased track “Elizabeth’s Lover” along with her and soon re-recorded it with her new project DIZZY AND THE ROMILARS for their own debut 7”, but her take on it with COMATEENS is given the B-side here (replacing “Cool Chick,” the original A-side counterpart to “Danger Zone”). Much like the ROMILARS’ version, it’s a giddy hodgepodge of sugar-coated ’60s girl group melodies, fizzy power pop bounce, and high-gloss new wave, like an extremely synth-forward iteration of BLONDIE or NIKKI AND THE CORVETTES. I’m not sure that I fully understand the resource utility of a two-song 12” that’s over and done in less than six minutes (especially when one can still easily find the “Danger Zone” single for like $20), but COMATEENS completists and early New York new wave obsessives might beg to differ.
There’s some sinister chain punk coming out of this band from Montreal. Their demo from 2022 was a solid blast of whipping, mean hardcore, and this 7” continues the assault. The four tunes here put a darker and bleaker feel to the menace with compelling results. I love the premature fade-out on the closing track, it makes the record feel like some type of unfinished riddle that I immediately need to play again to figure out.
This record has an exuberant, slapdash feel, as if it were recorded on a whim. The drums have a honky-tonk stride with fuzzed-out guitars tilting the sound back towards garage. There are other qualities that feel more bar-room than studio: the group vocals, the feedback, and big, brash bass. Now all we need are some puddles of spilt beer and we’re set.
Second release, and seemingly first physical media release, from Helsinki, Finland’s LIKA. Eight songs on this cassette, most of which are around the three-minute mark—it gives them plenty of time to meander through different genres, which they do possibly a bit much for my tastes. At times, LIKA sounds like a fast hardcore punk band, while at other times, they sound like a classic metal-infused crust punk band, like TEM EYOS KI or something. Still at other instances, LIKA sounds like screamy, aggressive, moody ’90s alternative rock. The band is super tight, but the mixture of genres might come across a bit off-putting, though.
Moody post-punk meets warbly new wave on this Dresden band’s first album from 2019. The ten mid-tempo tracks don’t break any new ground, but they maintain an atmosphere that is gloomy without feeling hopeless. Imagine the disaffected vocals of INTERPOL and the coldwave spirit of NORMA LOY with bits of exotica (“89/90”), woozy synths, and co-ed vocal interplay (“Dark Side (of the Moon)”) for good measure. A low-key, consistent album with enough variety to keep it interesting all the way through.
On their wild cassette Captured Alive, OVERGROWN THRONE from North Carolina plays raw D-beat with themes of class war, shitty cops, and hating I.C.E.—basically all of the things I want my crust punk to be about. What’s so wild about that? You’ve gotta hear the vocals on this thing. I’m not sure if it’s three or four people sharing vocal duties or one person who’s possessed, but there are multiple styles of singing throughout and it’s truly unique. While I don’t always love each style, I’ve gotta give credit for the creativity and outlandishness on some of these songs, something that sets OVERGROWN THRONE apart from the crowd. Check out “Couchsurfer” and “Victim of My Own Prescription.”
Soft garage rock, clean guitars, and sufficient drums. Reissued from 2018, plus a newly-mixed track. Catchy and fun sounds on this 12”, but evidently more on the garage side than with any punk rock features. Fresher than most garage projects, and even has some slight MINUTEMEN references in the instrumental, but the second the voices start to sing, you can tell the tidiness of all this. It’s a bit boring and excessively existentialist, yet very well-executed.
It’s hard to believe that Roy Vucino’s RED MASS project has been around for fifteen years now. An amorphous collective that can manifest as ten people on stage or just Roy at home with his four-track cobbling together lo-fi collage rock, RED MASS keeps you guessing as to what kind of mask they’ll be wearing when you pick them up for date night. On this 7”, they look backwards to the garage-adjacent rock they kicked their run off with. The title track recalls Vucino’s alien-in-our-midst contemporary Timmy Vulgar, but that unmistakable SEXAREENOS strut confirms that this is Vucino through-and-through. “Millionaire” nicks the guitar lick from GREAT PLAINS’ classic “Letter to a Fanzine” for a compact screed dissing the financially-advantaged, while “Addicted” finds Vucino and HPENNY DIVING’s Chantal Ambridge laying down a heartache-laden duet. Here’s to another fifteen trips around the yellow mass up above.
Montreal’s premier slop rock act returns with another heaping helping of loose proto-punk, this time ditching most of the mid-’60s R&B influence of their debut in favor of some late ’60s/early ’70s sounds. Thanks to some STONES-y ballads, a horn section (if you can call two dudes with three horns a section), backup singers, and some budget funk thrown in among the Raw Power-ed spin age blasters, Live on Cool Street has more of an AOR vibe. Even their VELVET UNDERGROUND influence seems to have shifted out more toward Loaded or solo LOU REED. It’s tempting to say they’ve matured, but of course they haven’t. Just listen to a track like “The River,” one of the aforementioned ballads (not to mention an album highlight), and you’ll hear what I’m talking about. The first fifteen seconds of the song seem to signal a new, gentler direction for the band, but then the vocals kick in and it’s clear these are the same greasy party rockers who brought you that last record. They’re just letting some of their dad-ish influences show. And it works! This record rules.
I never get sick of this stuff. Power pop is a broad umbrella, and frankly a lot of what falls under it is just a drip. Luckily we have groups like this, who belt out the harmonies and play with a fire under their ass. This is gritty, articulate guitar pop that I’d love to sing along with as long as I had a Swedish phrase book in my back pocket. There are elements here of HOT SNAKES, albeit more melancholic than pissed-off, especially in the guitar. In general, the tunes evoke a sort of longing nostalgia for nowhere. A time that never really existed, and opportunities you don’t even know you missed. Is that overly poetic? Sure. But that’s a testament to the disarming vulnerability of this music. Turn it up loud, go for broke, and dance with whoever’s nearby until far too late. My only gripe? After five cuts of supercharged pop rock, it all ends with a lo-fi, single-guitar closer that I keep waiting to turn into something anthemic with the full band behind it. It sort of just fizzles out. It might not even bug me if it were the second-to-last track. But it isn’t, so it does. Otherwise, a beautiful record.
Wow, I don’t remember the last time I actually listened to a SUBSONICS record. I often used them as comparisons for a certain style of voodoo-ish CRAMPS and GUN CLUB worshippers. Slagging them off as just a rehash of the aforementioned bands would be a mistake, as the originality of this Atlanta band shines through very clearly on this reissued second LP. I always thought they looked reeeally cool, and I seem to recall having a little fan crush on their drummer, Buffi, in my youth. The influence of the VELVET UNDERGROUND is something I’d not heard before, with the occasional Lou Reed-ish deadpan vocal and jangly rhythmic guitar. My unfounded reasons for dismissing them as not punk enough at the time because they weren’t taped on some shitty boombox are completely unfounded, as this holds up better than some of those Rip Off Records releases. The EVERLY BROTHERS, BEACH BOYS, ELVIS, and ESQUERITA can all be heard here in some really heartfelt songwriting on tunes like “No Such Animal.” Shit, the CRAMPS pretty much just did covers anyway. Check it out, and pick up the first one while you’re at it, too.
Yet another unknown band knocking at my door just before Christmas, asking for a merciful review that would pave their way for glory. TORTURE AGENDA is from Buffalo, and the first impression of them is one of evil roughness. We are not talking about the pretense of rawness that many bands revel in these days—no, TORTURE AGENDA is genuinely raw, primal, and probably paying the studio by the hour so that they did not arse around during the session and arrive late to a goat sacrifice or somethig. I enjoy this more than I thought I would. The band is fast and the songwriting is simple (if not basic), not unlike early extreme metal back when it was still highly influenced by hardcore punk, like demo-era POSSESSED or SEPULTURA when they still had acne. But TORTURE AGENDA is a punk band, and they also have that rotten crust vibe, especially in the aggression of the female vocals (maybe like EXCREMENT OF WAR’s?). The overall threatening primitiveness is, I’d suggest, an aesthetic choice, and given the template, it works. I am not sure I could listen to a whole LP, but the six-song tape format is appropriate. I love the artwork, it has that ’80s serious cheesiness that defined extreme metal’s visuals. However, what is the person in the background holding in their Bandcamp profile picture? It looks like a paint roller.
U.S. GRAVE is from Phoenix, Arizona and shares members with goth metal band TAKE OVER AND DESTROY. However, you’ll find absolutely no metallic influences on this LP. Darkwave blending with power pop forms a sound that is all its own, while the highly polished production and restrained but adept musicianship creates a foot-tapping spirit. Melancholic and desperate in nature, this album is perfect for the long nights of winter. I really enjoy the energy of “Shallow” which kicks off midway through the B-side.
Five tracks of raw punk destruction from VITRIOL out of Singapore. Wailing vocals roaring within the chaos of blown-out speaker buzzsaw noise guitar, with bulldozing drums crushing the eardrums. Teeth-ripping tracks that will make your flesh rot while you’re listening.
Sisters Erica and Sylvia Rodriguez, along with Daniel Doyle (DANIEL FRANCIS DOYLE & THE DREAMERS, EARLY LINES) present their debut LP, Smell of Money. Austin, Texas-based WET DIP sings half in English, half in Spanish, and delivers a no-fucks-given-wave, cool-as-they-come sound. Guitars scratch and jitter over anxious bass and drums with a mixture of spoken word, innocent melodies, and downright venom, like on the closer that yells “smells like shit” until you too are ready to choke out an ethereal greed. The sparse and wandering PIXIES track “Silver” gets covered, as well as an angular take on “Pelo Suelto” by Latin pop star GLORIA TREVI—both covers fit nicely and give a contextual range of influence. Solid sound and a great debut.
After forty-two years stored away in the archives of a member of the band, eight extensive years of insistence, and four years of labor, Nada Nada was able to unearth this precious Brazilian new wave gem. For a bit of context, AGENTSS were a pioneering band of the country’s new wave movement, mixing elements of electronic and minimalist music. They quickly became a cult band in the city of São Paulo, bringing a huge following to wherever they played. AGENTSS was in tune with the international new wave scene and were on the same wavelength as acts like DEVO or KRAFTWERK. This compilation collects their four songs released as EPs in 1981 and 1983, plus eleven more exclusive tracks recorded around the same time. An important piece of Brazilian music.
This split features two bands from L.A. that sound like something that would have appeared on one of those Voxx Records Battle of the Garages comps from the early ’80s. LOST CAT, a self-described “all femme fatale four-piece,” contributes a fuzz-forward ditty reminiscent of the PANDORAS. The expected ingredients are all present—pulled-apart-Velcro guitars, harmonica solo, shankin’ tambo, raspy smoker vocals, reverb on everything. The look, the sound…it’s all so well curated that it seems a little perfect. BLACK MAMBAS trade in the fuzz for a ’50s-inspired, vocal-driven rave-up. “Love Danger” is quite a catchy tune, but I fear it may suffer the same affliction as the LOST CAT track of being too on-the-nose.
Debut EP from this North Carolina trio who’ve pegged themselves as “amateur new wave,” which isn’t really the self-deprecating dig that it might seem—BONIES aren’t trying their hand at recreating slick, radio-saturated (but still punk-accepted) new wave influences, but rather the scrappier, more genuinely oddball sounds that existed further underground in the new wave era. It’s all presented through a decidedly modern lens, though: “Cake Decorator” recalls the WORLD if they’d been fixated on PYLON instead of ESSENTIAL LOGIC, loping along almost entirely on a slinky bass/drums groove and bassist Dani’s blank-emotion vocals, with sparse, needling guitar cutting in only as punctuated choruses; the tougher, echo-effected “Tango” hits a similarly tense nerve as NOTS in their post-punk/NORMAL-covering incarnation, and the B-side pairing of “Mommy” and “Belly Button” (the latter with some cheapo synth thrown in) goes a little nuevo-garage, picking up more or less where the various SUBURBAN LAWNS-idolizing bands of Lumpy Records circa 2015–2018 left off. Potent and punchy.
Juvenile, scathingly fun pop punk out of Sacto that sounds influenced by anything in Dr. Frank’s back catalog from mid-career MR. T. EXPERIENCE circa Love is Dead. Lyrically, they are pulling from Cheshire Cat-era BLINK-182, or a more mature Buddha. Musically, it’s very adept and well-executed in that mid-tempo punk style of the PARASITES or SCREECHING WEASEL.
The guitars on “This Close to Vertigo” are catchy in a conventional, RAMONES-worship way. They got stuck in my head easily. I mean, how is “Go Nowhere Kids” not already a song? But why does the band keep dragging songs past the two-minute mark? I’m a big believer that a good riff speaks for itself. Excessive repetition can drain punk songs of the momentum they need. I get it, I’ve been in bands and sympathize with wanting to show off a good tune. The DOWNSTROKES should trust listeners to enjoy these tunes on their own merits without pushing a second or third helping.
Phantom has reissued the synth punk reveling Good Job, originally out on Et Mon Cul C’est Du Tofu? in 2019. This debut has its moments of quiet, slow wandering, apparent on “Hiroshima,” with mod-wheel-driven synth lines and spoken word, but moreover turns up with dance beats on the likes of “Tourists of Death,” which is catchy by the end of the first listen. These dark song subjects made me feel as if I had GYM TONIC pinned, then they slip in egg-punk tracks like “Car Sick” and “B12 Injection.” And did I mention they’re named after an ’80s French workout show? Needless to say, they’ll keep you guessing! Can’t get enough? Also out on Phantom is their new Sanitary Situations EP.
Chaotic, lo-fi messy hardcore punk with reverb and creepy sounds. The guitars blend rusty chainsaw strings with noisy vocals and ever-ranting drums. Resemblances to early ’80s USHC mixed with chaos and chain punk sounds. Recorded to sound mixed (or actually mixed) by old tape machinery that makes it seem from another time, and not leaning too much on the haunted situation of the mansion may be a good call.
Great split between two grindcore bands from the West Coast. Both sound pretty similar, but MERKED has real drums and KAGENEKO is a classic cybergrind band with the drum machine playing impossibly fast beats. Reminds of something you’d find in some random distro in the early ’00s. Nothing groundbreaking here, but it’s fun as hell.
You very well might be familiar with the first half of this release, a classic slice of 2018 gonzo bedroom punk that came up around when you couldn’t turn a corner without bashing your beak on syncopated smart/smart-ass takes on what a lot of people unfairly paint into a corner as DEVO-worship. Now you can listen to it on vinyl! This is a decisively nasty, murky version of that sound, and it gets even toothier and more gnarly with the second half—a collection of new tunes post-2018 released for the first time. Tracks like “Sandbagging (My Way Through Life)” are blown-out with almost everything in the red. The vocal performances are unhinged and stab at the listener as they devolve into wordless refrains, yelps, and howls. But it still keeps the listener locked into its singular world of madness that continues on into the following cut, “Clockwork,” which almost hits like a no-fi MÖTÖRHEAD and then lands a churning groove all under a minute-thirty. If you’re a fan of this sort of thing, you’ll be in heaven. And you should be, because you’ve been very good.
OPTIC SINK conjures memories of the minimalist electronic delivery of SUICIDE or the art-punk vibe of CRASH COURSE IN SCIENCE. “A Silver Key Can Open an Iron Lock, Somewhere” is a cover of Switzerland’s LILIPUT, and connects OPTIC SINK’s sound to the icy pop of Northern Europe. There are elements of austere post-punk which draw parallels to bands like DELTA 5. While most bands are busy attempting to develop an overwhelmingly full sound, OPTIC SINK takes the opposite course and leaves vast expanses of audible space. Pop delivery is tempered with frosty dissociation, all while synthesized noises develop fresh euphonious environments.
At this point, I feel like everyone should know about the phenomena of PERSONAL AND THE PIZZAS. How a band from New Jersey decided to take the RAMONES and turn them into a band that mostly sings about pizza is both disturbing and genius. I’m not sure it really needs to be reviewed. The thing sort of speaks for itself. I will say that it is well-done. I guess that’s a detail worth talking about.
I bet you had a band in high school. I didn’t. I just abused an electric guitar while the four-track was rolling, discovering a love of noise coupled with happy accidents. But what if you had three friends that were cool and inspiring and intent on making a mark beyond the confines of your educational prison? Even then, you probably wouldn’t have slayed as hard as this group of Washington, DC teenragers did for one brief year in the early ’90s. Inspired by previous generations of DC punk, PITCHMAN clawed their way into the good graces of the egalitarian local scene and ended up playing with a cavalcade of older underground lifers like they were born to it. Now, thirty years later, you can hear what “the sound of young America” was all about. And it’s shockingly sophisticated! These kids weren’t banging out cheesy moshcore or four-on-the-floor cliches, they were learning in real time how to balance order and chaos, how to build up tension and hold fast until the release comes like a cleansing wave. No doubt inspired by producer Chris Thomson’s CIRCUS LUPUS, PITCHMAN unleashed ferocious punk that could be pigeonholed by a peabrain as “post-hardcore,” except there’s far too much arch adolescent sneering on display for such a humorless descriptor. The bruising “Standoff on the Top Stair” should be the fight song for every Final Girl, as Drée Thibert’s defiant pose is by turns inviting and threatening. Is it actually a song about being grounded? If only we could all transform our mundane experiences into such thrilling shapes. “Dead Girls” is a whirlwind of sardonic fury culminating in something like a manifesto—“It’s a natural disaster / Bite the adolescent fever.” “Route Thirteen” is a poison pen letter addressed to a partner-in-crime who has disappointed Thibert to such a degree that she is going to “meet you at the corner / and take you out with a punch,” ultimately concluding that “You’re just a crash landing.” What do the kids say now? I feel seen.
Bluesy psych punk that reeks of cigarette smoke and late-night dive stumbles. Evoking legends like the BIRTHDAY PARTY and LAUGHING HYENAS, the ROUGH TOUCH plays simple blues figures that grow into psycho-strummed beasts, especially when accompanied with the dialed-in howling vocals. Think Jon Spencer without the schtick. “Death of a Preacher” has a dragging, noirish feel to it, and “Pigeon Stain” stomps with the urgency of classic garage punk, complete with effective backing vocals. Strong release if dirty, punk-adjacent bar rock is your sound of choice.
Here’s an interesting slice of rock’n’roll history, mined from the vault of a largely overlooked band hailing from Richmond, Virginia circa 1979 (hence the title). The story of SINGLE BULLET THEORY is one of near misses and many woes, exemplifying a struggle that I imagine was all too common in the world of late ’70s rock music—trying to forge a path in the music biz while holding down a day job, being on the cusp of breaking through without ever really breaking through. Despite supporting the PRETENDERS on multiple tours, and opening for the RAMONES, TALKING HEADS, and PATTI SMITH, things never quite fell into place for SINGLE BULLET THEORY. Their sole full-length from 1982 didn’t seem to capture the apparent energy of their live performances, and from what I’ve read, the band was often pulled in opposing directions by various producers and record execs trying to wring some cash out of their sound. The four songs here may well be the best representation of the band to find its way onto vinyl, 44 years later. These tunes would be right at home on one of the Teenage Treats comps, blending power pop, garage, and new wave with some impressive musical chops. Hints of the RAMONES, the PLIMSOULS, and the RASPBERRIES shine through and there’s just enough grit in the production to retain their own character in spite of the aging patina of corporate monkeying from yesteryear.
I’m not going to beat around the bush, I love this album. SQUELETTE’s Fin de Partie has so much nuance and substance; it’s dripping with style and replay value. The pleasantly soft and jangly instrumental “Nouveau Depart” kicks things off, and while the comparison was hard to pin down at first, I realized it reminded me of the SMITHS, and I mean that in the most complimentary way possible. SQUELETTE masterfully weaves acoustic shimmering into their traditional French Oi! style, shown beautifully on tracks “Dans L’Instant“ and “Ronde De Nuit.” Peppered throughout, you’ll also find bits of saxophone and cold synths, both in line with the sort of thing you’d find on ’80s Chaos en France comps. It’s no surprise that it was mixed by Maxime of Chateau Vergogne Studio, who seems to have the Midas touch when it comes to modern Oi! albums. Anyways, bravo SQUELETTE, this shit is magical. For fans of SYNDROME 81 and CAMERA SILENS.
Subspace, the ideal place to be in a BDSM scene where one loses touch with reality, is a tough band name to live up to. Or maybe they’re just mathematicians gone punk? Either way, SUB SPACE (the band) is on fire here, delivering six tracks of hardcore with tinges of garage and a lot of beefy heavy metal guitar. You get songs sung in both English and Spanish, which gives this a little rawer extra punch. They remind me of a heavier CRIMEN at times, and “Redemption” is hands-down my favorite here. I look forward to a sweaty, disorientating live show soon to put me in that special place. Thanks.
Ten-song cassette of lo-fi, minimalist, twangy, guitar-driven, psych-adjacent garage rock. It’s fun and catchy and toe-tapping, but I wouldn’t call it groundbreaking. Almost sounds kinda like a budget, less memorable DEAD MOON. If you’re into garage-heavy simplistic punk or modern pop-psych stuff like OH SEES, you’ll probably dig this. The last song “Prince of Hell” has got to be one of the strangest compositions I’ve heard in a while. It sounds like a damn MEAT LOAF song, if Mr. LOAF was a member of SUICIDE.
I love it when BOLT THROWER gets worshiped by punks, because, in essence, BOLT THROWER was a punk band that played death metal! Crushing death metal with a clear vibe of Realm of Chaos-era BOLT THROWER, mixed with apocalyptic crust like classic AXEGRINDER and DEVIATED INSTINCT. The thing with the so-called “stenchcore” is that it has all been done countless times before, but Montreal’s WARKRUSHER really knows how to pay a proper homage to the war masters. From the logo, the cover, the songs, and overall vibe, they nail the fuck out of it. Enter the realm (of chaos) of Armistice at your peril. Crussssssst!
Alright, this is an interesting one, a CD compilation with five Japanese hardcore punk bands I have never heard of. The bands are all from Kyushu Island so that the project is regional, and area-based compilations are often the best way to discover current local scenes. Overall, all the bands’ recordings display that distinct spontaneousness and urgent sound that characterized the traditional Japanese hardcore sound that ruled the country between the late ’80s and the mid-’90s (like LIPCREAM, NIGHTMARE, OUTO, and the like), and still does. The winner of Downright Vulgarities appears to be M.V.11 (meaning MAXIMUM LEVEL 11, that did crack me up) because they are the band that displayed the highest level of energy, the most effective and epic choruses, and that triumphant vibe that goes hand-in-hand with the genre. Despite not being comprehensively cognisant of that type of hardcore (B2 level I reckon, one cannot excel at everything), I suppose the listener is bound to expect it to have that fist-pumping vibe, and a lot of songs on this CD do. A special mention also goes to ABSURDITIES with their super snotty punk vocals (almost SWANKYS-like) and their intense speed. I still see Downright Vulgarities as an album primarily aimed at the biggest fans of traditional Japanese hardcore who want to keep up with where the genre is at a given point in time and in a specific location. If you are just a casual, albeit rather educated listener, eighteen songs might be a bit much for you.
I know you can’t always judge a book by its cover (or its title, for that matter), but in this instance, You Are Beautiful… But This Place Sucks, the split LP by ANARCHY FOR ASSHOLES from Oklahoma City and BEAT UP from Athens, GA, visually and sonically doesn’t do it for me. Side A features the unfortunately named ANARCHY FOR ASSHOLES, whose sound and style have an element of CRASS-influenced anarcho-punk, especially with the shared male/female vocals. Frankly, I wish they’d lean harder into it, because they completely lose me with the weird party vibe on the last two numbers. On the flipside is BEAT UP who are cleaner sonically, leaning more towards ’80s US skate punk with a vocalist who’s got a funky Jello Biafra vibe that somehow mutates into a twangy Nick Cave impression by the final track. It’s politically charged and decently executed, but overall a little generic. All said, I give this one an unenthusiastic “meh.”
Heavy-metal-infused D-beaters BARRICADE deliver a relentless beating of raw energy, staying true to the genre’s roots. Their thunderous drumming, ripping guitars, and vehement vocals create a sonic onslaught that captures the essence of D-beat. Members of FUGITIVE, ANS, and GUERRA FINAL, to name a few. Fans of fast-paced, aggressive soundscapes will find BARRICADE both nostalgic and invigorating.
