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Maximum Rocknroll wants to review everything that comes out in the world of underground punk rock, hardcore, garage, post-punk, thrash, etc. No major labels or labels exclusively distributed by major-owned distributors, no reviews of test pressings or promo CDs without final artwork. We reserve the right to reject releases on the basis of content. Music without vocals or drums will not be considered. All music submitted for review must have been released (or reissued) within the last two years. Please include contact information and let us know where your band is from!
It’s very much a cliché for a reviewer to use terms like “stripped-down,” “no-frills,” “back-to-basics,” “catchy punk rock’n’roll” with “hardcore energy,” but in the case of PUBLIC OPINION, these terms very much apply. Deceptively simple chunks of guitar riffage plough ahead at a pace adequate to energetic movement, providing a springboard for strident vocalizing that, in cadence and delivery, falls somewhere between the HIVES and HOT SNAKES.
Bare-bones bass and drums provide a pummeling backdrop for the gearhead guitarist to venture off into experimental territory. Pairing post-punk and noise with a DIY fervor reminiscent of TANK GIRL, this band’s got a lot to say, both sonically and lyrically. They rail against societal inequities with dissonant walls of guitar interspersed with vocals that are at times melodic, at times a piercing shriek. Many of these songs start with a musical intro that slowly builds into a crescendo, but I have to say my personal faves are the ones that get right down to business. Songs like “Wrong” and “I Don’t Wanna” showcase just how tight the band is, and have a momentum that is undeniable.
R.M.F.C. (or Rock Music Fan Club) is the bedroom recording project of New South Wales teen Buz Clatworthy, and this LP compiles his first two cassettes. This fits nicely alongside any of the recent spate of releases from fellow NWI-worshiping Aussies, like SATANIC TOGAS, RESEARCH REACTOR CORP, DISCO JUNK, GEE TEE, etc. What sets R.M.F.C. apart from those other bands is his willingness to slow things down a bit. While there are plenty of the lightning-fast tracks that you’ve probably come to expect from this lot, songs like “Television” and “Mirror” creep by in comparison and really allow you the time to appreciate the odd mix of influences these kids are working with. Maybe it’s just because I feel a little inundated with speedy DEVO-core lately, but I find myself preferring these slower tracks. Regardless, this is an impressive collection of tunes, and I’m looking forward to seeing what this kid comes up with next.
Vancouver has a long history of great female punk bands, not the least of which is Lisa Marr’s band CUB. SBDC (Stupid Bitch and the Dumb Cunts, if you need it spelled out) is carrying on that tradition with scrappy riffs, clever lyrics, and bursts of short, amazing songs. I recently found an old split 7″ from CUB and Larry Livermore’s band the POTATOMEN that was co-released by Vancouver’s Mint Records and Lookout!—SBDC has the best sounds of Mint and Lookout!, and also the energy of the short-lived Olympia band HEAVENS TO BETSY. For the record, this album could have come out on Mint Records, but instead it’s on the spazier, artier, scruffier, more DIY Kingfisher Bluez.
Beaming in from Kalamazoo, Michigan, SILICON HEARTBEAT (not to be confused with SILICON PRAIRIE) trades in gloomy, fuzz-soaked synth-punk. Suck the fun out of the SPITS or slip a sedative to LOST SOUNDS and you’d have something close to this EP. SILICON HEARTBEAT is competent enough, but the relentless monotone that defines each song can be a hard wave to ride, even on what is essentially a 7″ (are there really only eighteen copies of this tape?). I’m guessing that this is a solo project and, thus, it rates on a sliding scale, but still, there’s little heat here. The digital download of Earth Static closes out with a perfectly fine ANGRY SAMOANS cover that is the aural equivalent of a flatline.
Pretty damn great sleazy, leather-clad GBG garage punk. Maybe a little SPITS-like mainly for the vocals, which could also owe a bit to Wendy O. One could easily see this band on a bill with New Zealand’s the CAVEMEN; it’s nice and dirty, primitive, and would fit nicely on a Killed By Death volume. “Drug Eyes” and the Videodrome-inspired title cut rise to the top of this cesspool of punker joy, and it comes to a close with the wonderfully droning post-punker “V.A.T.” Shower-worthy bliss for shure.
Bridging the chasm between No New York and XTC on the dole, SLUMB PARTY conjures up a wealth of influences without feeling contrived. Spending Money is simultaneously catchy and complex, bizarro new wave for recovering consumers. The perfect soundtrack for making weird art, or trying out that experimental new dance move. A big recommendation from me, and relatively affordable for an overseas score.
Anti-Fade is one of a handful of labels that I follow religiously. But every so often I’ll have a crisis of faith and find myself willfully ignoring a release for no reason other than, say, unappealing cover art or a generic band name. The Snakes by the SNAKES was such a release. Fortunately, MRR intervened and I now see the error of my ways. This is quite a delightful LP! The SNAKES are a five-piece outfit from Melbourne, and they play an odd mix of organ-driven garage punk, sleazy proto-punk, and circus-y new wave. It reminds me at times of mid-’80s CURE, the MIGHTY GO-GO PLAYERS, the soundtrack to Liquid Sky, and Richard Hell (particularly the vocalist). I don’t know how much replay value this one has, but it’s definitely worth a listen if you’re down for an interesting time. I’m certainly keen to see what they do next!
I mean, this shit just sounds like the cover art, really. How many side shots of crudely drawn skulls with daggers through them can one punk suffer? I mean, fuck, despite my whinging, it’s a good demo. The songs are fast as all fuck, faster than your average contemporary (ooh la la) D-beat at least, which is a plus considering the seemingly endless wave of mid-paced bullshit lately. The vocals have a hiss and snarl to them that only comes out occasionally, but when it does, fuck me if it doesn’t rip. This fucker was over before it began and I’m glad for that; I hope this lot stick to 7″s and tapes and don’t succumb to the ultimate in modern punk trappings and resort to an LP—this shit is fast as all fuck and vicious sounding, a quality I think would be lost on a 12″.
NYC’s TANTRUM delivers a steady D-beat pounding on some of this tape, and dark, smoky post-punk on the rest of it. It’s an interesting mix, especially when complemented by the tinny demo quality. The echoed female vocals add a layer of goth/anarcho vibes to these six tracks, working just as well over the thrashy hardcore parts as they do on the slower, more pointed numbers. While these elements may sound a little mismatched, TANTRUM makes it work fairly seamlessly.
Last year when I heard the SERFS’ debut album Sounds of Serfdom, I thought “hell yes, this has got to be a sign that 2020 is going to be a great year,” but oh how I was wrong. This new album from TERMINATION, a Cincinnati-based supergroup with members from the SERFS, MARDOU, and CRIME OF PASSING has got me really worried because it’s so fucking good that it can only mean 2021 is going to be a horrific nightmare. This tape brings all of the wild experimentation of the VELVET UNDERGROUND to the melodic garage rock of KING KHAN. It’s fuzzed-out and noisy and totally brilliant. There’s really nothing more to be said except that this kicks ass and comes highly recommended. If you feel so inclined, cop a tape. All of the profits go to the Navajo and Hopi Families COVID-19 Relief Fund.
Perhaps the definitive UK82 release, a final effort before disbanding and setting off on their merry (separate) ways; this is three tracks of buzzsaw guitar ferocity, larynx-shredding vocals from Ade Bailey, and drums that sound like an air raid. Tight, furious and no pissing about. Get your boots and your bally on, it’s a classic for a reason.
Unfairly unheard of, this lone EP was originally released in 1984 through Fight Back Records, a sub-label of Mortarhate, run by the good people of CONFLICT. Thirty years later Sacred Bones released Sanctuary (The Complete Discography), which gave them a bit more exposure and gave them some justice in a sense. VEX knew darkness like no other band, combining the anarcho-punk ethos of CRASS or CONFLICT with the apocalyptic tribal beats of early AMEBIX, KILLING JOKE, and UK DECAY. They were short-lived but made a mark in the underground and the reissues gave them the status of a cult classic, influencing several modern post-punk acts. With a new reissue by Bomb-All, be sure to pick up this criminally underrated gem from the UK anarcho-punk scene.
Never personally understood the fascination with some skins in pretending to be a Viking warrior (it was shit, lads! You couldn’t even get Wi-Fi or a decent lamb tikka bhuna!), and this record is unlikely to convince me, really. From its opening salvo of audio library sword-clashing, to its tough-guy vocals singing of victory, pride, and storms, it’s a quaintly macho record, more in common with MANOWAR than its Oi! labelling, all IRON MAIDEN wailing guitars and not enough grit. If you liked that BATTLE RUINS record, or think you’re from eighth-century UppÁ¥kra, this may be for you.
The zine part of this fine package is a collection of show fliers from all over Ohio, going all the way back to NECROS and DR. KNOW in 1985. There are a bunch of sick ones from the late ’90s/early ’00s that took me back. It’s amazing how many ways you can draw someone’s head exploding. The flexi part is a compilation of solo COVID projects by punks from all across the US. All the best styles are represented, from MOTÖRHEAD scum crust to bong-ripping glam thrash, and all the hardcore grinding violence in-between. In all seriousness, all these tracks shred, and the glossy print, hand-numbered zine is hella clean! Grab one while you can!
A new album from Pine Bush’s longtime purveyors of discordantly arty punk-pop. While mired in left-field references to funky-jazzy-noisy skronkers, the RIFLES can never escape the pop urge; under the buzzing, chiming guitars, stop-start rhythms, and shambolic shuffling, there’s always a three-chord pop punk melody not too far away—like a parallel universe where CRIMPSHRINE was aware of WHIRLING PIG DERVISH. ARMEDALITE RIFLES records are always personal; their hands-on DIY approach is tangible. But this album carries an extra poignancy as memorial for and eulogy to longtime bassist (and father of singer/guitarist Jimmy) Jay LoRubbio, who passed away in 2018. A fitting tribute.
Reissue of a 1978 single (and the lone release) from English punk trio ATTRIX, who were behind the label of the same name that’s probably best known now for the Vaultage series of compilations documenting the late ’70s/early ’80s Brighton scene. There’s a heavy VELVET UNDERGROUND influence on these two tracks, as refracted through the smudged prism of UK DIY—raw rave-ups with plenty of back alley strut, all jangling guitar chug, driving rhythms, and matter-of-fact vocals that make up in confidently cool attitude what they lack in dynamics. The buzzsaw hooks/gang chorus double whammy in “Lost Lenoré” almost crosses over into roughed-up, PROTEX-ed power pop, with “Hard Times” conjuring visions of Transformer-era LOU REED if he’d been backed by the BUZZCOCKS. Two winners, no filler.
The murky guitar that opens “I Don’t Feel So Good” might make you think you’re in for some regurgitated goth, but that only lasts about fifteen seconds, and these New Jersey mutants offer so much more than that. The opening cut is a squirmy punk done damaged, raw shit just disassembled and tortured to the point where they (almost) sound scary. They do return to those dark undertones (guitar leads in “It’s A Trap,” for example), but the filthy stomp of “Kool” seems to personify the band: “I found out the truth, the truth about you / The truth is you don’t know you.” Only four songs here—all simple and nasty—but fortunately there’s a second tape lurking somewhere back in 2020.
BLACK BUTTON really caught my attention last year with their short demo tape, so I was pretty psyched when I saw this release pop up. As I had hoped, it’s a hell of a ride. This formidable Richmond act plays intense, jazzy, angular, and cerebral lo-fi hardcore that creates a dense, disturbing, dystopian-like atmosphere to pull the listener in. The music is equal parts groovy and gripping, aided by a desperate, tortured, and venomous vocal performance spitting thought-provoking spoken word on top. Every once in a while everything seems to just fall apart, adding a dimension of No Wave clamor to the sound. I just can’t decide which version of the band’s self-titled “theme song” I prefer—the haunting live arthouse version on the demo or the tightly-wound, homicidal-horn-laced chaos found here. They’re both great, and so are the rest of these unique tunes. I’m pulling out the big B-word on this one—brilliant stuff. Don’t sleep on it.
There needs to be a few CITRIC DUMMIES-type bands around at any given time, otherwise punk might collapse in on itself and lose its intrinsic ability to revel in the theatre of the absurd, or something like that. By “CITRIC DUMMIES-type bands,” I mean ones who write energetic bangers (that aren’t really hardcore or skate punk or garage or KBD-type stuff, although if any of those things are your jam you might like this), with genuinely funny, obnoxious lyrics (that aren’t “anti-PC” or somesuch). BRUTAL KNIGHTS were probably the last band to bat a comparable average on this front to these guys from Minneapolis, and although Die Nasty doesn’t have any lines that have induced actual belly laughter Á la “I H8 Birds” or “Where the Fuck Were You?” from previous DUMMIES outings, it’s as ribald as a tape with an opening song called “Your Ex-Girlfriend is Dating a Nazi” oughta be. For some reason you have to download it and/or play the actual tape to hear it mixed properly, and it intentionally sounds like shit if you just stream it, although no doubt some people will prefer that version.
Supremely funky debut LP from this D.C. group of dance-punks. Made up of bass, drums, bongos, and two vocalists, CLEAR CHANNEL combines the best ingredients of funk, post-punk, and new wave into a unique, irresistible mix. “Hello Disko” sounds like Lydia Lunch fronting the B-52’S in the best way, all moaning vocals, bobbing bass, and disco beats. “B.B.I.” is a dubby exploration with soulful singing that reminds me of TV ON THE RADIO in the falsetto parts. “Maria” could be a ’60s R&B classic re-recorded by a punk band. It’s great. Then comes “Hot Fruit,” a funky, kinda dirty jam that deserves a place in the novelty song history books. If you want people to get up and move at your next party, put on “Hot Fruit.” I’m planning a mix tape around it as I write this. The record ends with the title track that turns up the drama with theatrical call-and-response vocals and the same grimy disco vibe from the opening. This is dance music by punks, kind of like DUB NARCOTIC SOUND SYSTEM, in attitude at least. Check it out—the most purely enjoyable record I have heard in a while.
Blame COVID for why there’s not a new COLLATE LP primed and ready to sit on your turntable. Still, the Portland trio does us a solid with a short but effective single. “Medicine” is begging to get a sweaty DIY dive packed with awkward weirdos grooving in something close to tandem. COLLATE doesn’t shirk on the ass-shaking aspect of post-punk nor do they let up on the jagged guitar or the eternally cool call-and-response vocals. This shit smokes, call the FIRE ENGINES! “Genesis Fatigue” is even rowdier and could have landed on any number of killer art-punk comps from 1981 and held its own in such hallowed company. Furthermore, as with all Domestic Departure output, this single looks fab.
CRUTCHES spit out nine tracks of clean-sounding Swedish D-beat in the vein of all your favourite umlaut-adorned and mispronounced backpatches, but with all the modern advancements of clean recording. It’s fine, I guess. Vocals could sound less shrieked, but I’m old now so what the fuck do I know; it’s just hard for me to get sucked into something so polished-sounding, especially when sonically, they just don’t manage to conjure that atmosphere of danger that I think is absolutely necessary in modern crust. I can hear all the shiny studs in this recording and none of the filth. KONTRASOSIAL gives this the kick that it needs with a slightly more metal approach and stomp that blows the other side outta the water, an unfair pairing really.
Melodic hardcore from Japan that’s, at least in part, been heavily influenced by bands like DAG NASTY. The songs are all sung in Japanese, which to me is a plus. I think it sets bands apart when they sing in their native tongue, because while I may not know what they’re saying, it’s authentic and not just another (insert band here) clone. One last thing, I definitely hear the THUMBS in here a bit in some of the delivery and guitars and I’m super into it.
The AMYL AND THE SNIFFERS comparison feels like a somewhat lazy one, but there will no doubt be fanbase crossover. Still, DICK MOVE has plenty that sets them apart. Some songs remind me of a mid-tempo QUAALUDES, with driving, garage punk riffs and dynamic vox. Others deliver an early hardcore sensibility as reflected through a pop lens. Plenty of shouted group vocals and lead guitar interludes are scattered throughout this record. One of the genre tags on their Bandcamp is “party-punk,” and I’m inclined to agree. But there is substance to this party platter; lyrical themes include Indigenous people’s rights, gender politics, and mental health.
The greatest anarcho-punk band of our time (or any time), the EX has consistently transcended a genre that’s often reduced to cliches of stencil fonts and high-contrast black-and-white war photos—through four decades and counting, they’ve collaborated with avant-garde cellists and Ethiopian jazz saxophonists, and experimented with free improvisation and ethnic folk music, and never once has any of it seemed disingenuous or forced. Their first two LPs, 1980’s Disturbing Domestic Peace and 1982’s History is What’s Happening, recently got the reissue treatment from Superior Viaduct, and within the EX’s sprawling catalog, they’re arguably the group’s most “conventional” and straightforward statements of intent. On their full-length debut, the EX laid down much of the basic furniture that would remain in place as the band regularly rearranged their musical floor plan in subsequent years—G.W. Sok’s intently ranted vocals and sloganeering lyrics, scratchy knife-edged guitar, tumbling, tightly-knotted rhythms. It’s a lean 22 minutes (not counting the bonus four-song live 7″) of smart agitprop punk fitting the Crass Records-modeled anarcho-ideal, but with an off-center volatility pointing to expanded horizons to come. History is What’s Happening bridges Disturbing Domestic Peace’s raw, square-one approach with much more of a sharp, angular post-punk influence, which would continue to color the band’s sound as they moved toward the ’90s—imagine GANG OF FOUR as Dutch squat-dwellers who would have never broached the idea of signing to a major, a central precept illustrated with scathing bluntness on the jagged, Entertainment!-referencing “E.M. Why” (“The gang of four smiles / They think that EMI’s their friend”). The EX allegedly chose their name because it was quick and easy to spray-paint on a wall, and despite the increasingly complex songwriting on the second LP, it’s still an obvious extension of the group’s original motivations, with each track-as-manifesto blazing through at about a minute or two a piece, just long enough to effectively deliver their points, no time for fucking around. Absolutely essential.
I’m going to say a few things, outing my lameness, before I even get started on the listening. One, I have heard of this band, and I am familiar with their insane punk pedigree of band members (INSTITUTION, SLUTET, WARCOLLAPSE, KRIGSHOT, TOTALITÄR, NO SECURITY—yes, I’m still going—ÄÄRITILA, DISFEAR, MEANWHILE…etc.!), but I regret to say I don’t know that I’ve heard them yet since their 2017 debut. Sad face. Two, the umlaut and aforementioned resume lets me know I’ll probably be into this. So let’s see. Okay, I absolutely love the raspy vocals that gasp out to the very last breath. This is quite heavy metal-charged Scandi Dis-beat hardcore. There is a unique level of vibration to the classic riffs. That is to say, the traditional Swedish hardcore chords are almost sung from the guitars. Outstanding. Like literally, the guitars are a standout, fucking awesome. This must be Kenko, who I met at a wedding in NY once, and his unassuming kind poise brings total fire through his instrument. Simultaneously catchy and abrasive, this is certainly recommended. Some parts double-time D-beat käng (à la MOB 47), other moments knuckle-dragging stomping breaks, but never for too long. I was just listening to INSTITUTION yesterday and I believe they share the vocalist. Or perhaps the TOTALITÄR vocalist, actually. I could check but let’s leave it at that, the old-fashioned way. Just like EXPLOATÖR plays hardcore punk. I am not sure who’s doing what here, but I am sure I love this.
I like Canadian HC, they always seem to put something out that’s just slightly left of the mainstream. What we have here, however, is a slab of Age of Quarrel-era worship that, despite my distaste for worship bands, had me nodding my head along the whole way. There’s that thin line between tracks that have the thick, aggressive stomp of the CRO-MAGS at their angriest, and then tracks that waver between hardcore and that wave of neo-thrash bands that were abundant in record bins all over the world a couple of years back. Is this LP good? Depends, I suppose; I probably would’ve liked it a hell of a lot more if it was a 7″, but what the fuck does that even mean? Maybe if they could lose that kinda goofy, borderline pizza party vibe I get from this shit.
GIUSEPPE CARABINO was a hardcore band from Subotica, Yugoslavia. This tape with 31 tracks includes five different releases and live recordings of the seemingly prolific band. Again a great relic of our international subculture, now collected and reissued by Aftermath Tapes. The music is exuberant, and tries to be ultra-fast both with the thundering guitars and airtight drumming, laid on a hyperactive bass. While all the collective anxiety is on the loose, melody appears in a better-blended form than cheap tunes on the top of noise. They tried to write songs but were too impatient to play them in a boring, traditional way. When tension decreases, gloomy sounds surface along with the disgusted vocals. It’s an interesting duality how these kids from far away built their own universe on constantly collapsing songs. They capture the despair and it works, sounding original while it’s dumb since it dares to be dumb. It’s unpolished because it was recorded on impossible devices, yet it was recorded and decades later is still available, proving how some forces are unstoppable. If you like hardcore that is coming from less-known places and sounds different despite similarities in its fundaments, great stuff.
Big hooks from dual guitars are matched with the big voice of singer Meg Tinsley on this London band’s second full-length. The album manages to match up socially relevant post-hardcore tracks (“The Contagion,” “The Healer”) with power pop gems (“Queen Ray,” “Saluting Magpies”) and have it all flow together. If there was a Fest this year, I could see HONEY JOY making the trip across the pond. Recorded by Simon Small from the band APOLOGIES, I HAVE NONE, the LP joins a punk lineage of albums mastered by Daniel Husayn at the North London Bomb Factory and it’s released on the up-and-coming indie label Everything Sucks.
Well, it sure is fun and somewhat uncomfortable when you get assigned your friends to review. Some might even say it’s funcomfortable. This is Chris Mason, head of Portland’s killer label Dirt Cult, as well as the bands LOW CULTURE and MACHO BOYS, performing five quarantine songs he wrote and recorded in one night. When you have such extensive experience penning awesome songs, I imagine it’s not too hard to crank out tunes about the nightmare year we’ve all been living through. But then he goes and makes them really good on top of it. Recommended listening for when the world we’re trapped in becomes too much to deal with.
JUNTA has been under the radar for quite some time as they have been putting out demos and EPs consistently through the years, with Død Tid being their eleventh release to date and all of them DIY. And they sure sound DIY and you can take this as a compliment coming from me: it has the pure K-town punk sound to it with a recording to match that makes you feel that you are right there in the middle of the chaos with the band. Nothing is overproduced or feels faked, like a grittier version of the more straightforward POISON IDEA songs. Sung both in Danish and Brazilian Portuguese, you can sense their urgency through each and every of the six songs. The musicianship is great; no wonder they share members with PHRENELITH, PLANET Y, and DEMON HEAD, just to name a few. “Out of fashion, out of step, out of tune…”
Prolific Portland Deadheads go into the NU SHOOZ studio and make something truly special. I wonder if these guys are into SIMPLY SAUCER, because to my ears Barbarian Dust has that kind of spaced-out, mantra-like proto-punk sound that I like in Cyborgs Revisited. The warped, string-raking of “Hair Lord” sets a pummeling tone before yielding to the more mid-tempo psych-pop of “Mow the Glass.” The whole record is full of so many good and surprising ideas. Unlike the more deconstructed-sounding (and also excellent) Tomorrow Cleaners, everything here sounds perfectly in place, even the tunes that end abruptly. It’s like it was meant to be even when they’re adding elements that are not typically punk. Is that an EBow on “Keyboard Christ”? It still works! To say nothing of the VENOM cover. I have listened to this so damn many times and the various sonic turns it takes are burned into my brain forever. I think people will still care about this record ten years from now.
These Richmond, VA-based ripping metalhead punks oil the tank treads for war on their aptly-named new full-length. This is the kind of blunt force D-beat that’s for getting faced with your friends—it’s not a soundtrack for changing the world. It’s a hell of a lot of fun that also hits hard. The playing is the perfect blend of technical execution and loose chaos, and the production has the heft of a battle axe—each track landing like a drunken killing blow. This band plays in a genre that will never change (and never die) and they do it with excellence.
Halifax, Nova Scotia seems like a weirdly dark, isolated, dangerous spot. Maybe it’s these kind of places that are fertile grounds for spastic punk mayhem. A place where music formulates apart from cultural pseudo-coolness and it’s just meat and bloody guts and acid juice. I’m thinking Mark Mothersbaugh and DEVO from Akron, Ohio, or Mark Winter and the CONEHEADS (or whatever he’s doing) from Northwest Indiana. Add to this the MARK VODKA GROUP, a project from Luke Mumford and some of the other Halifax BOOJI BOYS released by the ever reliable Drunken Sailor out of the UK. Gritty and bitter, but not without humor in a REATARDS-like way.
This is cool. Super bouncy and fierce dayglo-style punk from Valencia, Spain. This was once a one-person show and now it’s a full-on steamroller of fun (that’s a full band to you). My mandatory attempts at comparisons may liken them to the SPITS, EPOXIES, TYRADES, and ALASKA Y LOS PEGAMOIDES. Favorite tunes me like are their theme song “Pódium,” “Magia Negra” (of course), “Psicopata,” and “La Noche.” The whole package is what one needs in their headphones as they ride a motorcycle down the coasts of Spain. If you stare at the cover long enough you see God. What more can you possibly want?
Enthusiastic Stockholm Swedes POWER FACE play a turbo-charged kind of metal-punk, reminding me a little bit of SoCal skate bands from the early ’90s. If you strip away the wild, spit-caked vocals, the music is honestly pretty generic melodic punk/hardcore, which they play well. Are these guys signed to Fat Wreck yet, or what?
A sonically dense, highly danceable sound that wears many a familiar ’80s influence on its sleeve, but manages to be at least a little unpredictable in the process. “Ikea Youth” starts with a bouncy-then-driving guitar, sports a catchy chorus, but ultimately comes off a bit cluttered as the guitar and synth fight for space in the mix. I thought it might just be a lo-fi thing, but the credits say this was recorded at Abbey Road, so I assume that they just like to layer up their sound. Both vocalists have distinct but complementary voices and the synth-driven darkwave finale was pretty cool. Side Two is a CURE cover, and while I’m not really a CURE guy, I appreciate that QLOWSKI takes some sonic liberties by adding chunky guitars, abrasive noise, and discordant piano. I’m curious to see how they develop, but on this outing, I find splitting the difference between gothy post-punk impulses and more accessible pop does justice to neither.
SCAB EATER of Australia plays diminutive slam-pit hardcore that sounds like a more lo-fi garage-core version of MIND ERASER with the punk ugliness of SADIST, HOAX, and GAG. You know the drill. SCAB EATER, however, has a subtle, more dark tone to them such as DEATH CHURCH. Ultra Vires switches up the tempo several times while remaining a straightforward steam engine of hardcore. Songs clock in at under two minutes yet seem to be filled with deep composition. By the fourth track “It Gets Worse,” I am totally hooked and it gets better from there. Followed by “Flag Bearer” with grabbing double kick pedal, gritty, filthy bass, and a locomotive furnace for a mouthpiece. You will get into this immediately and wish you’d worn a helmet. A.C.A.B. S.C.A.B! EATER. FTW.
Primitive, filthy and savage. What else can one say about this debut from New York´s SECRETORS? And what a beast of a debut! The guitars and bass are as harsh as they can be, the bellowing vocals are delay-drenched, and the pounding drums are saturated to the core. Their sound really hits the spot if you are into ’80s Japanese primitive hardcore, evoking the chaos and destruction of SODOM (ADK Omnibus), ZOUO, or GHOUL. With members of WARTHOG, SUBVERSIVE RITE, and URCHIN within their ranks, Antidote for Civilization isn’t for the faint of heart.
SICK THOUGHTS are one of those bands, or projects or whatever, that people constantly talk about in terms of how prolific they are on the release front, but this two-song 45 is the first thing under this name for nigh on eighteen months. I guess we’ve all had distractions one way or another. Both sides are pretty on-point if you’re already down with the essential Drew Owen ethos, and even if not, they’re pretty insta-likeable uptempo punk rock’n’roll with power-pop-gone-metal guitar solos. It’s not polished or anything, but no kind of lo-fi either, especially compared to Drew’s recent album as DD DETH. Kudos for also being bold enough to have a drawing of a bunch of skeletons playing instruments as the sleeve art, despite not being an ageing psychobilly band.
Slimy garage shits from Göteborg that strip so many layers that I could be listening to EASY CURE demos as easily as leather-clad THUNDERS outtakes. Mid-paced stompers heavy on single-note guitars…the beauty in simplicity cannot be overstated.
People be loving the SMOG! This is the Japanese group’s third single and they’ve built a modest buzz based on their sharp, tuneful punk rockin’. “Set in Stone” threw me for a sec as it opens like GIRLS AT OUR BEST’s “Getting Nowhere Fast,” but then settles into a flavor profile that is closer to the JAM stirring a spoonful more garage into their mod stew. “Lost My Mind” gets slightly more angular and approximates what BLOC PARTY would sound like if they had any punk demos.
SNOOPER is a Nashville-based duo made up of Connor Cummins (SPODEE BOY) and Blair Tramel. This is their first release, and it’s quite an impressive debut. They cover so much ground over the course of these four tracks that I was genuinely surprised to see that the whole EP’s running time is just seven minutes and twenty seconds. The inevitable comparison here would be to the CONEHEADS, as they certainly crib a lot from the NWI sound. But they infuse it with enough other influences that it feels like a fresh take. I hear fellow Tennesseeans LOST SOUNDS in their explosive choruses and a little bit of the URINALS in their production. The best track on the EP might be the one that bears the least resemblance to Mark Winter and company. “Running” establishes a borderline Krautrock groove with a simple drum beat, a DEVO-esque bassline, and chanted vocals, then it alternately weaves in a fuzzy surf guitar line and a MINUTEMEN-like funk riff. It really is something. An essential release!
This band mostly sticks to a post-punk influence that also straddles a line between power pop and indie rock, though they pull it off well. I’ve heard plenty of bands that try to shoehorn a medley of genres into a single record and it ends up being a soundtrack for nightmares. These songs never stray too far from a common root sound which definitely helps. But then “Fuck the Brixton” is folky Americana with a slight country twang in the guitar, so there is a curveball thrown into the mix. For the most part, the songs are mid-tempo with drawn out dual vocals. I’d almost describe it as sleepy, but you’ve also just chugged a cup of coffee. It drones on in a lot of places, though they also do real weird soundscapes full of horns, electric piano, distortion pedals, and whatever instruments inspire anxiety attacks. It’s a strange, yet cool, collection of sounds. I do this a lot, but there are some similarities to the MINNEAPOLIS URANIUM CLUB. Somewhere in my brain they became my go-to weirdo tunes comparison. Listen to both.
This is STARING PROBLEM’S fifth release. Serving up DIY proto-goth/shoegaze, complete with jangly chords, chorus-laden guitar hooks, and soft vocals, that sweetly drift just out of reach like a far-off specter. These recordings have a lo-fi fuzziness that gives the effect of overhearing the music from another room. Their CURE cover blends seamlessly with the rest of the album. There is a gloomy kind of warmth to these songs that draws you in. They have created a world all their own here, and it’s a fascinating one to take a trip through.
Straight from Triana and Nice (Spain/France), TENTÁCULO is a punk band that treads a fine line between mid-tempo melodic punk and hard rock, or NWOBHM and post-punk, with the chops and attitude of those great working class heavy metal Spanish bands from the ’80s. Whatever, we don’t need to pinpoint TENTÁCULO down anywhere: these eight songs give no-frills rock’n’roll with existential dread-themed lyrics and hook after hook after hook. “Extrañas Luces” shines with an old-school hard rock riff in contrast with the bleak pessimism in the lyrics and the energetic singalong of the chorus. Have to highlight the guitar work on this record: simple at times, but extremely melodic in a HÜSKER DÜ kind of way. The three last songs on the B-side are some serious bangers: you can imagine yourself singing with your pals in a sweat-drenched embrace at a dark small club or spitting this street poetry into a hot and humid night after a really bad day at work. Beautiful cover and design work.
Raw and beautiful UK hardcore—zero frills, throat-mangling snarls, ruthless breakdowns, RIPCORD-fueled frustration. Nine songs, mostly hovering around the sub-60 second mark…because when you cut out all the bullshit, how much more do you really need?
It’s a shame that this is TUMBAS’ last album. The Bogotá, Colombia band embraces the gloom and doom of deathrock with the intensity of hardcore, and showers it with a sick guitar tone that paints a picture of a world in pain. TUMBAS make you think, make you scream, and most importantly, make you dance your misery away. There’s a sense of urgency in Marcelo and Fausto’s dark guitar riffs that works nicely with the driving pulse towards catharsis of Maria Paula’s bass and Ximena’s unrelenting drumming. On top of that, you have Luisa’s vocals, with the necessary anger and poise to expose the rotten corpse of Latin America’s social reality. These songs get better with each listen but if you make me pick one, “Destinados a Perder” has it all: it’s dark, it’s heavy, and the guitars sound like a swarm of furious bees. The album has a really cool cover and insert. It also includes four extra songs from their demo cassette.
Even if powerviolence is a deterrent sign for you, listen to Nihai İnfilak. It has multiple stop-and-go parts, blastbeats, top-of-the-lungs screams, and tempo changes per-second, but still the heart of this record is raging and hateful hardcore. But in the case of URBAN CARNAGE, they are from Turkey, which is not an easy place to live and such background shines from each song. If you listen to CROSSED OUT even without being on crack and enjoy fucked-up heavy music with a modern sound, check out this Turkish powerhouse. I am just as dubious and picky when it comes powerviolence, but this is good shit. It is not aligned to posers like me, but I have to adapt and get what they play. It is both interesting and expands my perspective.
