I think music benefits from a sense of fun, especially when it’s otherwise dark or morbid. Maybe DEATH BAG agrees? Their kinda deathrock, kinda psychobilly style benefits from danceability and larger-than-life vocals. Generally, the record is a goth-y bag of lower register tunes at a steady but driving pace and with a little mangled, weird guitar sprinkled throughout. Pair with your favorite monster flick or thunderstorm.
Mr. Briggs and his HEATERS specialize in a familiar blend of lager-drenched Antipodean rock’n’roll in the lineage of the SAINTS. Nine lamentations of dead-end desperation and the search for temporary release set to wave after wave of layered, chiming guitar, punctuated by semi-buried keyboard and horns. I bet their raw, muscular riffage goes down real well in the sweaty function room of a suburban bowls club.
What an album. First and foremost, I would be remiss if I didn’t talk about the album cover. I don’t think there’s another image that could better represent what you find on this here slab. Pure rock’n’roll madness straight from the sewers of Connecticut. Very similar to MC5 and the RIFFS. This is the kind of band GG ALLIN wished he had backing him up in the ’80s. Apparently this is a re-release of their original 2023 LP pressing, which went out of print almost immediately. If you’re dying for this on wax, you better pony up for the shipping charge, because I don’t think this opportunity is coming back around any time soon.
Beer-soaked from Brighton’s shores, TOP LEFT CLUB deals out pop-inflected pub punk rock. This brings me back to the all-ages club of my pimply punk rock teens. The songs are what you would expect, with a tinge of retro-ish Farfisa synth touches. Kind of EPOXIES meets “take your pick of early ’90s Lookout!”—fun for a few cuts, but probably not an album’s worth. I would’ve happily shoulder-tapped a Night Train and seen them live, however.
