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Big Florida dudes who make baseball jerseys with their band name on it. Beards, full-sleeve tattoos, probably an occasional cigar or a blunt when the kids have gone to bed. Retirement skate punk. Every song sounds like a cover of a cover band playing 2000s MOTÖHEAD or DAMNED material with out-of-tune, off-time vocals. Yes, it’s real.
Doesn’t the title tell you everything you need to know? Twenty-one minutes of D-beat-influenced noisecore recorded live and presented in questionable fidelity…which is exactly what you want, if you read this review past the title of the release.
I have reviewed several pandemic projects in the last few months, coming from different parts of the world, and they all share something: a feeling of brutal urgency to connect and shout out the current state of the world. And what’s more, they’re all great. VARIOLACIÓN does not escape this new paradigm. This is a four-piece hardcore band from Portland, Oregon, with components from other bands like PROHIBITED, TOTAL WAR, DEAD HUNT, and FALSE RITUAL. I love the nods to the past like that “Pretty Vacant” riff that opens the brutal “Sombra de Humo” or the repeated chorus of “Obsesión Mortal” reminiscent of OLHO SECO. Sonically, this is political hardcore that paints scenarios of everyday terror (misogyny, animal cruelty, war, etc.) through raw and primitive noise, very much in the vein of Mexican bands like M.E.L.I. and SS-20. “Massacre de Inocentes” has an ear-splitting guitar solo that is just fantastic. “Castillo Negro” has a pretty amazing First Wave of Black Metal riff vibe to it. To sum up, seven great songs from a band that hopefully won’t remain just a quarantine project.
A California project dreamed up during the 2020 lockdown, the WIND-UPS’ debut album presents an interesting brew of styles wrapped in fashionably weathered production and distorted ghostly vocals. The first few tracks have a post-punk/no wave feel, and then it suddenly gives way to some syrupy lo-fi power pop and RAMONES-y rock. At some point it leans back into more artsy territory, before finally ending off the record sounding like the BEACH BOYS on Quaaludes. The songs are brief, yet the album provides a lot to digest, and if you like the MARKED MEN, etc., this is for you.
Debut full-length recording from Harrisonburg, VA natives WINETEETH. Navigating the oft-overused descriptive genre term the label uses to describe the band, I do not hear “garage rock” coming from this cassette. What I hear is more of an amalgamation of ’90s genres: a mixture of slower, distorted grunge-esque songs mixed with aggressive but crisp and clearly-recorded alt-rock. Feels almost like a period piece for the 1990s. The recording is super pro-sounding, with vocals sitting right up top. It wouldn’t feel at all out of place to me if one of these songs was slipped into rotation on an alternative rock radio station.
The YOLKS are a funny thing for me. Sometimes, I think they just sort of sound like that band whose name escapes me right now. Other times I think they’re catchy as all fuck and the greatest thing ever. As I dive into the first track, this is definitely one of those second times. The A-side is kind of a folky number, but Jezus, it’s great. And it’s over in less than a couple of minutes. Perfect. The B-side is more pure pop perfection. Just excellent. Oh, I think that band I couldn’t think of is the STROKES. Limited to 100 on vinyl. I’m getting one.
The great tradition of solidarity through punk compilations is one of the most profoundly beautiful, selfless, and powerful actions this type of music is capable of. Not only do they constitute forceful allegations in songs about, almost always, the repeated use of violence in social conflicts, they also map routes of musical scenes, establish lists of ethical companions in this twisted planet, and generate snapshots of crucial moments of youth culture. La Masacre Continua (“The Massacre Continues” in English) follows this line. It’s a fabulous compilation of 21 bands, mostly from the vital Colombian scene, but also from France, Spain, and the United States, united by language, all singing in Spanish, and by the urgent need to denounce the terrible state violence unleashed against social movements in Colombia this year, which has caused dozens of deaths. The selection of bands is impeccable, and just as a sample we’ll mention titans such as MURO, SYSTEMA, PRIMER RÉGIMEN, PORVENIR OSCURO, and LUMPEN. As for the sound palette, we have street punk, noisy hardcore, DIY lo-fi greatness, D-beat fury, Japanese-style madness, cavernous violent screams, powerviolence, and much, much more. Buying the cassette or downloading the album means supporting Colombia’s worthy fight against the state. You can also make a donation if you like. Either way, it is important that the message is heard. From Colombia to the world.
First-issue of a 1980 session as performed by a band that came from the same place as some git named Billy Shakespeare. Ol’ Shakie put out a cracking debut and went on to take over the Globe (and then burned it down!), but what about these ABSTRACTS and how did they fare in the studio some forty-plus years ago? Not too shabby, it turns out. “Contrast” rides the same lorry as the NIGHTINGALES, the one that traffics in arch post-punk rock’n’roll. A total Messthetics masher, “Disco Beat” nails its sideways groove like one of the more straightforward HOMOSEXUALS cuts. “Make Up Girl” is no taming of the shrew, but things get a little more tempestuous on “In the Papers.” I’ll stop there as some leggings-sporting tosser mumbled “Brevity is the soul of wit” as he stumbled by—Marlowe, you have some nerve!
These Polish punks have been around since 1996, and Ba is their twelfth studio album. That’s a lot of years for a hardcore punk band given that most bands don’t last more than a couple of records. Recorded between 2009 and 2010, this long-overdue album finally sees the light of day, with twelve tracks of slick and catchy hardcore punk with some out-of-the-box moments including sax and accordion to add to the weirdness. Hard to describe but easy to listen to, give it a try if you are into the DEAD KENNEDYS or NO TREND. Thumbs up for AM and thumbs down for not being more well-known.
South Florida’s BE ALL END ALL’s latest LP on Triple B sounds like a well-recorded, modernized powerviolence approach. Members of ECOSTRIKE and SEED OF PLAIN. For fans of TRASH TALK or the To Live a Lie catalog and the contemporary breed of powerviolence bands. Well-executed fast and furious yet heavy songs that end after around ten minutes.
London punks with twelve tracks of fiery hardcore punk recorded in 2016. Forceful femme vocals that remind me of Agnes from HOMOMILITIA, though the music here is way more straight up and way more punk. Dueling guitars sound ripped from the late ’80s until moments of modern HC melodies make appearances. High-energy, driving intensity—enthusiastic approval.
As society continues to suck on a tailpipe, you’ve gotta ask yourself: does CHROME age like fine wine? Accompanied by a cast of characters that includes the bassist from CHROME’s early ’80s firebomb heyday, Helios Creed keeps the flame, if not quite burning bright, at least lit. “H Of Spades,” with its tractor-beam guitar set to maximum gravitational pull, seems teleported in from one of his late ’80s AmRep albums. But the majority of Scaropy (oof) is tired goth rock with industrial overtones, like some kinda bargain bin ALIEN SEX FIEND (who already take up plenty of shelf space in the discount aisle). Much of this album sounds like backing tracks for a stripper scene in a straight-to-video dystopian thriller. “An Open Letter” has a decent edge even if its chorus is “I won’t / Take your shit.” As the end approaches, CHROME finally delves into the sounds that first distinguished the group all those years ago. “They’re Coming To Get You” takes an android shuffle and slathers it with the kind of warped voices that is practically a trademark, while “Kilauea” sinks even deeper into paranoid murk. Not a bad batch after all, but far from a triumph.
CIRCLE ONE is a band I only know through their reputation—and through stories of singer John Macias being killed by police at the age of 29. It’s Macias’s vocals which are the most interesting component of this reissue. Atop mid-tempo to fast SoCal hardcore, Macias sings with way more theatrics than I expected, reminding me of Jello on late DEAD KENNEDYS stuff, or, alternately, Jack Grisham of TSOL.
Roughly translated as “Life in Screens,” this cassette is the Berlin’s synth duo’s second album, released earlier in the year. What a wonderful piece of plastic. DAS DAS creates a world where simple, screeching synth lines amalgamate to create little punk gems that you can sing along to (if you know German) and/or dance to, whether on a dark, cavernous club night or in your bedroom on a Saturday night. Their sound is clearly ’80s-oriented; we could mention bands like FUTURISK or KAS PRODUCT, although by the noisy use of the guitar and the playfulness of their melodies, they remind me more of the Spanish AVIADOR DRO. Great bands to be in the company of, in my opinion. Big mention to “Invisible Man,” a brutal and sexy song, like a kind of seductive psychobilly EBM. Eight excellent songs that exploit the libidinal energy of dance as a political tool of emancipation.
Dark post-punk from Zagreb, Croatia, with the distinction that separates them from the current scene being the searing melodies that quickly sneak in and grapple with the dissonance of the singer’s voice. Melodic in the mid-tempo, angry way of HÜSKER DÜ or Throb Throb-era NAKED RAYGUN. Like maybe what ICEAGE would have sounded like if they stuck with their early DIY/punk sound, but better. Sung in English, the lyrics seem to be trying to piece together some beauty out of a fractured and absurd, sometimes grotesque world.
Let’s make this one short and killer, just like the tape. DEVOURED BY RATS gives you three tracks of chamber-echoing hardcore metallic noise, seething with abrupt blackened riffs and gouging hardcore vocals. “Chemical Bath” cuts off in a murderous way. Track two, “Septic Severance,” tears to pieces what I thought was insane at the beginning. Cyber-gruesomeness in the best way. This is just plain bizarre and welcome. The last track “Return to Filth” slices with the most riffing on any track, that is obliterated by speed-punk vocals and thrash ambiance. Don’t you dare think this is a thrash or metal tape. This is disgusting sewage grind crust oozing with pus and a pulse. Kill it with fire! There are only 50, so don’t sleep on this nightmare. Brought to you by the label that brought you RASH. This shit is just as nasty.
Skate punk legends the FACTION have reunited the original lineup to re-record twelve of their best in one convenient collection. All the favorites are here, including “Skate and Destroy,” “Lost In Space,” and personal favorite “Let’s Go Get Cokes.” Unlike most bands that have recently re-recorded classic material, this doesn’t come off as a phoned-in cash grab. The band still sounds great and the songs haven’t lost any of the energy of the earlier versions. Listening to this makes me wanna go skate in an empty parking lot right now.
The GIRLS AT OUR BEST! origin story mirrors the genesis of an entire wave of early ’80s UK post-punk—meet at art school (in Leeds!), start a band, self-release a 45 with a helping hand from Rough Trade’s distribution network, put out a few more records in quick succession, and then flame out well before reaching the decade’s mid-point. Their first (and best) single recently resurfaced on the reissue label Optic Nerve, whose output generally skews toward a very particular strain of C86-adjacent jangle, and GIRLS AT OUR BEST! definitely represent one of the most obvious (wanna buy a) bridges between post-punk and indie pop outside of the not entirely dissimilar DOLLY MIXTURE. A-side “Getting Nowhere Fast” is a perfect example of the genius of simplicity, with a nagging, serrated guitar riff repeating over bobbing bass and buttoned-up drums while Judy Evans’s defiant delivery and lyrics denounce consumption-as-culture mentality, before the whole track abruptly stops short at the two-minute mark as if the tape had just cut out. On “Warm Girls,” Evans pitches up her vocals closer to the airy, angelic register she’d adopt on later records, eventually joined by a quick-fire disco beat and some noisy wind-up guitar before the song breaks into an anthemic outro chant of the band’s name, up there with the AU PAIRS or DELTA 5 in the ’80s femme-punk pantheon. Total twin classic, but you knew that already.
This German band named after the controversial first drug war Nazi of America plays noisy garage punk with songs crafted with an apparent love for the American space program. Fast, trashy, and fun, it reminds me of the NO-TALENTS, SPOILED BRATS, or TYRADES. Fun and confusing all at the same time, I leave it to you, kind reader, to figure this one out. Prost!
Debut LP from these Clevelanders, featuring members of INMATES, FOLDED SHIRT, WETBRAIN, and a bunch of other bands. These guys take the irreverent, artsy, frat-rock punk of BLACK RANDY & THE METROSQUAD, add a dash of RICHARD HELL, then absolutely infuse the shit out of that with pure Ohio weirdness. Seriously, try to listen to this record and pretend it was made in any other state—you can’t do it! The LP is funny without being joky, deliriously nerdy, and just absolutely stupid. It’s great! Listen if you like any of the aforementioned bands, PERVERTS AGAIN (et al.), or FINAL SOLUTIONS. Highlight track is “Pop Punk SML.”
Let me be far from the first to extend a heartfelt thank you to all the Aussie psychos recording weird-as-hell punk in their living rooms. Warttmann Inc. has become the sort of go-to tastemaker when it comes to putting out radioactive oddities such as these ten cuts of computer rock. Driving, crunchy, and artificial as hell—like an AI sipped a few too many pints of lager through the disk drive and belched out this damaged floppy of unpretentious cheeky Casio-punk. The whole package is driven home by the genuinely couldn’t-give-a-fuck attitude behind the lyricism and effects-laden vocal delivery. What’s left is a noisy batch of earworms that are just the right amount of bratty and ends on a note of total glitchy entropy with closer “Thanks.”
Hailing from San Diego, KEEPERS bring spooky, carnivalistic, atavistic post-punk gloom to the arena with hazy delivery and morose groove as an intro. Some of this is discordant jangly garage rock, feeling like the FALL and SYNTHETIC ID. Parts are drawn out with cataclysmic psych-rock and lo-fi ’90s indie rock. The EP rounds out with vocal-effected, millennial gaze-y rock that seems both disturbed and carefree. Four tracks of irreverent, playful proto-punk with some twangy edge to it.
Translating from Finnish to “Hard Truth,” KOVA TOTUUS gives us some garaged-up hardcore with by-the-book breakdowns and boring vocals on this eight-track tape. It’s totally skippable, my dudes. How’s that for some “hard truth”?
This Rochester band has been playing around in some form or another for a minute. Slapping the odd rectangular piece of plastic into the appropriate device, I was hit in the face with the best dirty, mean, spoiled brat-led hardcore I’ve heard in a least a day or so. Constantly teetering on the line between a sludgy metallic beatdown and a fast-as-fuck snotty thrashfest, they remind me of the SCHOOL JERKS and SHEER TERROR, or JUDGE and REAGAN YOUTH, the latter which is covered with an atypically refreshing choice of song. The other cover is the STOOGES, and I know you’re thinking “how can I ever hear another cover of TV Eye’ ever again” but, I shit you not, they do a damn interesting job of it. Mastered by the master of mastering, Will Killingsworth; you know it’s going to be a big, beefy-sounding, plastic-spooled joyride. Hoo-ha!
Before I begin, it should be noted that this band hails from Canada. Now, forget that I mentioned that. Cool? Let’s begin. My first thought was “man, this sounds a lot like PROPAGANDHI.” While I still feel that way, I should clarify that statement: musically, this sounds a lot like an album they would have written between Less Talk, More Rock and Today’s Empires, Tomorrow’s Ashes. For the most part. There is an acoustic song that doesn’t really fall under that umbrella, but it does fit with the album. There are shades of other Fat Wreck bands here too, before we get too carried away with just the one former. A solid listen that should appeal to any fan of that style. Side note: I couldn’t really tell if this was part of the song or an intentional joke, but at the end of the last song they seem to start going into a KORN song and then don’t…thankfully.
Discografia is a 31-track discography cassette compiling all of the band’s recorded output from 2002–2012; an entire decade of NAPOLNARIZ from Puerto Rico. Presuming these songs are on the tape chronologically, which as far as I can tell they are, they began as a snotty, snarky, sloppy, mid-tempo, lo-fi punk rock band, and as their time went on they got tighter and started writing catchy pop punk songs, never fully ditching their early grit, though. You’ve gotta respect that level of commitment and dedication over the course of a decade. The highlight for me on this tape is a Spanish-translated version of DEAD BOYS’ “All This and More” as “Todo Esto y Más.” This tape as a whole is a lot of NAPOLNARIZ to take in, but there’s definitely some really cool, catchy songs on here.
The first thing I noticed about this Danish two-piece was the drums, or lack thereof. It sounds like someone pressed the default percussion button on a Casio keyboard and then played mostly mid-tempo hardcore over it. If they’re taking it seriously, I guess I should too, because this tape pleasantly surprised me. The cheapo drums are accompanied by heavy punk chords and damaged, LUMPY-with-a-sore-throat vocals. There is an occasional tinny solo and some feedback screech that make songs like “People are People” (especially with its sarcastic spoken vocals) sound like SACCHARINE TRUST-style weirdo HC. Throw in fast ragers like “Stay on Drugs” (“Stay on drugs / And don’t do school”) and “I Don’t Care,” and you have a solid band worth keeping an eye on. Oh, and I like the cover art. Those tigers look cool.
This album is taken from a December 2020 live stream. It is a frantic, heart-racing performance of skronky, blitzed-out keyboard punk. SCREAMERS worship on full alert. The set list features a bunch of songs from their cassettes (also compiled on the excellent LP from last year, The Collected Findings of the Research Reactor Corporation). Wildly fun. I wish I was there.
Body of Work brings together SPITBOY’s full discography on this double-LP release. This historic all-female group faced a lot of adversity in their day, standing up to sexist and racist fans by writing a litany of songs on feminism, blaring it out, and demanding change. In the totality of their work, we hear a snotty, crusty, and unrelenting anarcho-punk sound that pairs perfectly with their subject matter, as in “Baby boy, precious baby boy / The world wants you / I am what’s left over” from “What Are Little Girls Made Of?” I also really like “Fences,” originally off their ’95 split with LOS CRUDOS. The bass line rambles throughout, as the song weaves from heavy guitars to pinch harmonics and quieter melodies, while they rage against the commercial punk scene. This is a great piece for the collection, and all the proceeds go to the National Women’s Law Center!
I’d call this a lot of things before I’d call this punk. I don’t say that as a criticism, just to set the mood for what we’ve got here. I’d call this jangly, catchy pop that’s doused with a helping of melancholy. Four songs, all pretty catchy, and while they’re mid-tempo in pace, the mood slows it down a little. At times, they’ve got an XTC thing going.
Five short tracks of sci-fi punk/DEVO worship from Argentina. You want egg-punk? Here’s the egg. This has to be the logical extension of the nerdiest music associated with the genre. The first four tracks all open with various forms of technology firing up (phones ringing, dial-up modems, etc.), followed by crunchy synth overload. The vocals are run through some sort of warbly, distorted insect effect and mixed really high so they override everything else. The cumulative listening experience is over-the-top and unpleasant. Forget egg-punk—this is irritant punk. The lyrics are in Spanish, so I’m not sure what they say, but the band’s description describes them as being about the harmful relationship between humans and electronics. Take this tape as an example. The final song, “Placer Artificial,” is much better and sounds like it had more effort involved (and they ditch the vocal effect). There’s some CONEHEADS influence on the vocals and several layers of catchy synth lines. Hopefully, it’s a sign of things to come for any future WWW releases.
There are just some releases (and some bands, period) that you’d be a fool not to love. Tokyo kängpunk and BDSM enthusiasts SKITKLASS are such a band. If you don’t get what they’re doing, you get the sense the door is right over there and you can throw yourself out. Their side of this split consists of three previously released slabs of raw, pissed-off, Sweden-indebted punk re-recorded in Japanese, and other than that, their formula has hardly changed one bit (which is a really good thing). On the flipside you have a recently-formed and quickly buzzed-about L.A. band ARTIFICIAL JOY, whose two tracks are shrieking, contorting neo-classics that hold their own alongside SKITKLASS. If you aren’t already paying attention to this band, these songs will convince you to take notice; the energy is full on and the band seethes with self-assured chaos. Altogether both sides of the split form a wonderful vibe check to the global punk scene. Get onboard or, you know, get lost.
BAD BATCH from Cleveland, Ohio’s latest demo release. Carries on the local tradition of LIP CREAM Á la NINE SHOCKS TERROR’s (the band, not the album) approach to the late ’80s Japanese HC sound. Burning Spirits-style epic leads without being a complete replication of the bands they like. Recommended.
I grew up vacationing in Myrtle Beach, SC, which is full of Calabash-style seafood buffets. These restaurants offer an endless spread of fried sea creatures, hush puppies, and French fries. Your only non-fried options would be coleslaw that’s 80% mayo by weight or corn on the cob. It’s about as beige a banquet as you could encounter…and probably the metaphorical polar opposite of this band. BEIGE BANQUET is a London-based recording project helmed by Tom Brierley and has maybe been fleshed out to a full band on this four-track 10″, their second release. They play pretty straightforward drum machine post-punk that would fit squarely between contemporaries NAKED ROOMMATE and URANIUM CLUB. Tracks are built atop a motorik foundation with icy guitar lines, rubbery bass, chanted vocals, synthesized hand claps, and spoken-word lyrics layered throughout. Each element on its own seems cold and percussive, but when woven into a polyrhythmic blanket becomes warm, inviting, familiar, and actually not entirely unlike a meal of fried comfort food.
Athens, Greece-based CHAIN CULT gives us a take on the pandemic through their post-punk lens with lines like “We always know / We’re not alone,” and “Now I pretend to be normal / When life used to be normal.” For a threesome, the sound is full in body, and Dino’s picked-apart guitar lines are maybe the most notable aspect of “We’re Not Alone” and “Always A Mess,” running parallel with many of Jason’s sung melodies and punchy bass lines. The production lends itself to a very clean and polished sound—no crust here—but it’s dark, driving, and leaves you in that gray space between defeat and hope. Take a listen and see where you land.
This Spanish three-piece puts out a strong effort here. Kinda poppy, kinda dark, hella catchy. Musically this has elements that bring to mind the MARKED MEN, the LILLINGTONS, and SCREECHING WEASEL while remaining original enough to keep the listener interested. Six songs in total, one of which sounds like SCREECHING WEASEL’s “Hey Suburbia” with the chords slightly switched and in a different key, and one entitled “P.I.D. (Paul is Dead)” which has the vocal pattern of the BEATLES’ “Help” during the verses, which now makes me wonder if that was intentional?
Originally released as half of a split LP with Tel Aviv’s MONDO GECKO back in 2012, this tape shifts the spotlight directly onto Algeria’s DEMOKHRATIA. With a band name that translates from Arabic to “Democrashit,” you get a pretty clear idea of what these guys are about, and political aggression can sometimes be more enjoyable when you don’t understand a single word of it. The pummeling drums and rapid-fire dual vocals give off a sense of urgency that sounds like the band has been holding these nine tracks in for too long and is finally getting them out. If you like this one, you’d probably like the HERO DISHONEST/YDINPERHE split EP that I reviewed a while back as well.
DISPOSICIÓN NEGATIVA is a grindcore band from Perú. This cassette is 21 short blasts of fury, including a cover of AGATHOCLES and another one of DISRUPT. Being grindcore, you know what to expect and the band delivers it: sick blastbeats, incessant and heavy riffing, and low-pitched growls. The sound is personal though, and you can tell the creative potential of the band in future releases. What I really enjoyed and want to emphasize is the haiku-like brevity, conciseness, and terrible beauty of the lyrics (all in Spanish), decrying the Western ideal of progress, neoliberalism, war, family, the church. Killer release.
The all-time greatest THROBBING GRISTLE-connected record, go ahead and fight me. Before the arrival of PSYCHIC TV, Alex Fergusson of ALTERNATIVE TV crafted these alternate-universe pop hits in collaboration with the notorious Genesis P. and Dorothy Max Prior and released them as a one-off single on Industrial in 1980, with Dorothy subversively described on the back of the sleeve as a being a teenage ingénue when in reality, she was the drummer for mechanically-droning 4AD post-punks REMA-REMA and very much in her late twenties. The trio apparently tried and failed to enter A-side “I Confess” into the Eurovision song contest, which actually makes perfect sense—it’s readymade for department store speakers, with syrupy early ’80s electronics, a prefab shuffling pop beat, and Dorothy’s babydoll vocals naming her various favorite things, starting innocuously with “boys in Beatle boots” before eventually hitting an absolutely mind-blowing “musique concrète”/”SUBWAY SECT” rhyming couplet. They could have been the next ABBA! That said, the real smash hit here is the B-side “Softness,” a mutant disco dancefloor workout for the ages in which Dorothy coos over the most slithering and slinky after-hours throb of retrofuturist synth and snap-tight funk rhythms this side of a LIZZY MERCIER DESCLOUX joint. All culture jams should jam this convincingly; a mandatory acquisition!
Second single from this Parisian group that features members of CHEVEU and VOLT, two of the finest electro-punk bands of the modern era. EUROMILLIARD cuts back on the tronics for more rock power and it pays off handsomely. I hate to indulge in cultural stereotypes, but it’s curious how these Frenchmen can make such stomping tunes also seem somehow, I dunno, elegant? “Droit Dans Mes Bottes” welds a SLADE-like drive to chanted gang vocals that sound both inviting and celebratory and also vaguely threatening. Le paradoxe! “Aux Aguets” starts with a dirty bass lick and shifts into a chorus that could’ve come from a LES OLIVENSTEINS classic. A killer two-sider crafted by seasoned vets.
Kinda gothy, at times this has an almost lo-fi feel to it, as well as being punchy and rocking. Like a spooky-sounding MARKED MEN almost, with less bounce and from France. I dig it.
Kansas City hardcore punk. The FREAK seems to have near-limitless anger frothing up inside them. The kind of hardcore punk that is just seething rage, making you feel really glad that the people involved have found the outlet of hardcore, or who knows how many bodies would been left in their wake. Fast, crushing hardcore punk with pummeling heavy breakdowns. Short and pissed. The five-song demo is over very quickly, and thankfully the tape has a whole bunch of dead space after the music ends before the B-side repeats the same tracks, giving your heart rate a chance to reduce and letting your blood come down from its boil.
Single-sided 12″ with nine tracks recorded live at Future TechLabs (I think just one of these dude’s apartments) for the 2020 Gonerfest live stream. GEE TEE, despite only being around for the past four or five years, feel like elder statesmen of the Sydney egg/garage punk scene (which also includes SET-TOP BOX, SATANIC TOGAS, RESEARCH REACTOR CORP., etc., projects that have shared members with GEE TEE). And you’re getting their hits here. The recording is a little hotter, faster, and looser than a typical GEE TEE release, with the vocals a little buried in the mix, specifically behind the synth (seemingly set on “clavioline”), which is pushed right up to the front. So, yeah, it sounds live. If you’re a big fan of these guys (I am), you’ve likely already grabbed this (I have). If you’re not or you are on the fence, you’ve probably already missed out on the physical release, and that’s fine. But it’s worth a listen, particularly if you’ve always wished these guys sounded a little more like DEL SHANNON.
I wish more dance punk from the early 2000s sounded like the throbbing racket HALLELUJAH! produces on this invigorating slice of anti-social electric sleaze. They are not asking if you want to dance, they are telling you that they want to dance, and the difference is crucial. “Champagne” is a crash course in collision, flying off the rails with no intention of hanging on. This is followed by a wacky version of a certain STOOGES classic that is short and weird enough to prevent you from giving the stereo the gasface, but the party really gets started with “Minipony.” HALLELUJAH! doesn’t skimp on the bass-in-your-face and that’s critical to elevating this kind of sassy punk damage (the distorted vocals giving many “fucks” helps too). After seven straight burners, the band slows things down to great effect on the vicious “Alter Ego”—somewhere, SIX FINGER SATELLITE is smiling.
Marking a decade since their first release, HYSTERESE hits us with their fourth self-titled album (an homage to ZEPPELIN by going self-titled and using the Hindenburg disaster photo on their second album? I just don’t know). But I digress; we’re here to talk about this 2021 release wherein Helen Runge takes us by force with the elegant power of her vocals. Of course they implement their signature use of rounds, which is what first struck me about this band—Runge’s floating melodies countered with screaming lines over a sort of glammed-up post-punk soundscape, best heard here on “Lock & Key.” Another fine piece of German engineering, and I hope they keep at it.
Made in Toronto, the unkempt punk of IMPLODERS saddles classic hardcore styles and sentiments with a modern-day level of jaded disaffection. Mid-paced ripping and stomping is delivered with a casual and sarcastic swagger that makes for a promising debut. Be careful with this one, as it sounds like it may stain your turntable.
Female-fronted melodic punk that just slightly misses the mark for me. I can’t quite put my finger on what cylinder this isn’t firing. I enjoy the vocals, and while technically there’s nothing bad here musically, it just isn’t clicking for me. Together it just comes off as generic and kinda boring at certain points. There’s just that little something extra missing here.
I have yet to grab my reviewer copy of this, but lucky for me I happened upon it at Black Water Records in Portland and picked it up. I had been hearing solid reviews of this from older punks and younger punks and all the mad D-beat heads, and it certainly does not Dis-appoint. KÄRTËL of NYC, comprised of members from Colombia, Brazil, and Mexico, plays pounding hardcore with militant force and fluid vocals. This is tough as nails and rhythmically flowing. Female lead vocals in Spanish rip through with the meter and pitch of KOHTI TUHOA, AFTER THE BOMBS, and SACRILEGE. This is one of the best voices of the year. Attitude and sheer power à la FORÇA MACABRA, oration as inferno like RIÑA. The writing is relentless and KÄRTËL plays it seamlessly. ÓDIO SOCIAL, native to Brazil, complements Side A in Portuguese with buoyant, loose bass and similarly tight speed-demon percussion. Dual vocals ranging from hardcore to more guttural crust to anthemic käng-stomp singing. This EP is essential Latinx hardcore and one of my favorite Vex releases. All those debating the sides of the NERVOUS SS/RAT CAGE split LP, give yourself a break, and check this out. A split EP of the year.
This is a collection of songs JO KUSY recorded between 2009—2017. His style is laid-back and confessional. The songs are catchy and intimate. I appreciate the little flourishes like the bicycle bell in “Girls on Bikes.” It’s a fun record.
You’d think that a little plastic shell cannot possibly contain all of this hotness. All of this wildness. But it does. They need a guitar tuner (like…badly), but Pittsburgh’s LITTLE ANGELS absolutely annihilate six shit-hot raw hardcore tunes that are blown to fucking smithereens right out of the gate. Listen to the vocalist barking at the start of “Party.” That’s not some reviewer speak for a vocal style, the singer is fucking barking. Like a dog. And then screaming: “Where’s the party?!” This demo is just out of control across the board—everything pumped harder and pushed rawer than everything else, and it’s everything I need right now.
