[engl] Cheap Whine sound like classic 70s punk always sounds in your head, but somehow never quite lives up to. Nagging powerpop melodies, frantic energy in abundance and enough snot to fill a swimming pool – mind you, that shouldn’t come as a surprise once you learn who’s involved. Steve Adamyk has been crafting nuggets of two-minute genius with his own band and Sedatives for the last decade, while Eric French makes sweet, sweet trash pop with Feral Trash. Add the powerhouse drumming of Crusades’ Jordy Bell and you’ve got a recipe for mind-blowing, heart-racing magic, which they serve up in deliciously moreish chunks. Marked Men/Chinese Telephones/Ringers fans, listen up. They sing like they just got turfed out of a bar for throwing peanuts at playboys, and they play like they’re skating through plate glass windows. The ideal amount of fucks are given. What’s more, in closing tracks Best Times and Letter to J, they might just have written the perfect one-two suckerpunch combo of powerpop classics. I’ll take two. Will Fitzpatrick.

[engl] If you've ever spent any time in the darkest recesses of the internet, you'll know that 'powerpop' is an emotive term. For every pockmarked tenderfoot flying the flag for some fuzzed-out alterna-rocker's harmony-drenched new single, there's a grizzled veteran insisting that there's not enough jangle, not enough hook, not enough oomph on display ('I hear the pop, but where's the power?'). Basically, if you thought 'what is punk' was a granular debate, trust me: you ain't seen nothing yet. Anyway, sidestepping the fact that I clearly am one of their kind, let's just say a quick 'fuck those nerds'. This is where Class come in. Class are a four-piece from Tucson, AZ, who are most assuredly all the power, all the pop, all the time. They've served time in a bunch of bands you already know and love - most notably everyone's favourite 'delinquent slobs' Rik And The Pigs - and Matt Rendon of their citymates The Resonars is the guy behind the mixing desk, so you know whatever comes out is gonna be good. '2-4-1' compiles the two cassettes they've released on Cincinnati's Feel It Records (which also released their debut LP proper, 'Epoca De Las Vaqueros') and it's absolutely rammed with new pop classics. 'Steady Hands', 'Wrong Side Of Town', 'Inspect The Receipt', 'Left In The Sink'... get learning these titles now, 'cause you're gonna get very well acquainted when you spin 'em until your needle's worn down to a flattened-out nub. Sound-wise, it's pop music as envisioned by the punks - straight to the point, no fucking about. Some of these songs feel like Alex Chilton playing 'September Gurls' on a curious cocktail of cheap speed and wayyy too much sugar; others are kinda like the aforementioned Resonars if they ditched their British Invasion records and got obsessed with a heady mixture of The #1s and Richard Lloyd's 'Alchemy'. Sometimes it just sounds like a forgotten late 70s punk classic, so I think we're all in the right place here. It's scuzzy and scuffed up in all the right places, with blazing guitar solos and crashing drum fills designed to get you where you need to go, with a minimum of fuss. 'Class' is an apt name. As you'd expect from a band with three vocalists, there's more than one style at play here, meaning this record pulls from enough varying strands to keep things interesting without sounding unfocused. There's no time to get bored, unlike when reading my drivel. What the fuck are you waiting for? This is power pop at its best, punk at its funnest, a whale of a time in less than 30 minutes. Let the nerds wage war on each other - clearly, I'll be reading it - and claim your own victory by playing this one to death. This band are in a class of their own, and if I've not laid it out explicitly enough, you need to start listening. Now.

[engl] What if The Fall, Pere Ubu and the Swell Maps got fed up with all that searing rock’n’roll business and decided to strip things back to the simple electronic beat of a knackered old Casio keyboard? What if they figured they may as well mumble some bon mots over the top, and smother it in nagging, lo-fi repetition, whether composed of discordant keyboard stabs or undulating guitar chords? That’s right, you’d probably end up somewhere in the vicinity of The Cool Greenhouse’s batshit take on pop-mangling nonsense. If the above doesn’t sound worlds away from all your weirdo post-punk favourites, served up the likes of Rough Trade, Ron Johnson et al, you’re right – it’s all in the same wheelhouse. OK, here the rage and the noise seem more subtle but, but none of it is any less caustic or pointed than the sounds you already know and love to be baffled by. What’s more, The Cool Greenhouse is piss-funny. On this two-track window into the skewed mindset behind the project, we open with Landlords – a searing take on the perils of renting that devolves into Kafka-esque levels of preposterousness while also remaining frighteningly recognisable. It goes from personalised number plates to chimpanzee-staffed call centres in just under three minutes, all to the strains of what The Desperate Bicycles might have sounded like while trying to rip off Hex Enduction Hour – in summary, fucking brilliant. On the flip is 4Chan, a diary entry of sorts for a regular poster on the Internet’s most infamous troll caves. “Today I photoshopped 14 photographs of Tyler Durden and good old Patrick Bateman / And now my Steam account has two new followers and I’ve spammed some feminists with troll faces,” it goes, while two unsympathetic guitar chords crash rudely into each other ad infinitum. A hilariously bleak summary of life in certain quarters of the Internet, and an addictively excellent slice of horribly nervy pop music. It might not sound like rock music as you know and love it, but it’s way punker than you. Stick it on – play once, twice, a thousand times. The Cool Greenhouse is your new 80s awkward hero, right here in 2019. Will Fitzpatrick.

[engl] Back in 1979, Pinned Records dropped a pretty smart compilation record called Vancouver Complication – a natty compilation of punk, new wave and power pop from the Canadian city. Some might say ‘seminal’, but only rock critics use words like that and they’re the worst people (I should know). Judging by The Corner Boys’ debut 7”, the kids in 2017 just love it. Surely it’s not a new record, though. It’s a great lost cut from that era, right? Or we’ve somehow fallen through a portal to that time and place, and uncovered an essential set of three obscure classics. This is punk as it’s supposed to be done: alla the hooks, alla the time, and played like they just got caught shoving firecrackers into the exhaust pipe of their dad’s new car. It’s frantic and sassy and riotous and righteous and unpolished and perfect. My tip? Empty your head a little in preparation; this stuff is gonna be living in there for a long, long while.

[engl] "What do you get when you add 2/3 of Homostupids to 1/2 of Pleasure Leftists? You get Cleveland's most explosive new act, THE COWBOY! Do the math, it checks out. These three gringos are confident enough in their chops to make the bold move of having their debut not just be twelve inches long but also twelve tracks long. Only seasoned veterans such as the gentlemen of THE COWBOY could pull off such a daring feat. Every one of these dozen songs is Grade A rock guitar beef Americano style, with that homegrown flavor Clev-O is so famous for. Grab your knife and fork a dig in for two sides of prime cuts. Now that the title of America's Greatest Rock'n'Roll Band seems to be up for grabs again, these fellas are throwing their hats in the ring and it's certainly not their first rodeo. So saddle up, Sally, and LET'S GO!" -Richie K/Terminal Boredom ex Homostupids.

[engl] So what happens when you add members of Pleasure Leftists to members of The Homostupids? Yeah yeah, we know, you get The Mind, the amazing post-punk band Priss from Blade Runner might have formed in a left-of-centre attempt to pass the Voight-Kampff test. But that’s their inner replicant; what of their human side? The one that just wants to create a squalling rock’n’roll racket? Laydeezungennelmen, meet The Cowboy. Those of you paying close attention might have picked up their scent before – their 2017 debut LP dropped on Drunken Sailor in a flurry of power chords, raw throats and some of the best damn punk rock that year had to offer. And that’s not to confuse ‘em with Lumpy Records superstars The Cowboys (plural), either – fine though that act may be, they just ain’t as feral a prospect as The Cowboy (singular). At three tracks and less than seven minutes in length, this 7” doesn’t exactly waste its time in getting to the point and reminding you that sludged-out garage rock and a healthy dash of ‘DAFUQ?’ are a potent combo in anyone’s book; like a fistful of California reaper chillies, dipped in nitroglycerine and poised for supersonic shockwaves to smash into ‘em.

[engl] Hot off the heels of their debut LP entitled "Sliding Through the Halls of Fate" on Don Giovanni Records, Crow Bait returns. The band is from New York featuring three guys that you probably know from past and current projects such as Sister Kisser, and Iron Chic. But if you're checking this out on the basis of those bands, expecting to hear another "Not Like This" or "Vipers" - two very good records – prepare to be left scratching your head. Crow Bait, while clearly looking forward, is also clearly trying to create something that resembles the music they grew up on - Goo Goo Dolls, Buffalo Tom, The Replacements, etc. And they do a damn good job. If you're like me, and you never change the dial when a good 90's alt-rock song comes on the radio, this record is right up your alley.

[engl] Cruelster are made up of members of Knowso, Perverts Again, and a plethora of other Ohio noiseniks. If it seems like you’ve seen that name before, it’s highly probable - they released a demo back in 2012 and have been sporadically dropping bundles of rough-edged sonic snot ever since, thanks to labels like Lumpy (whose own Dumpers are at the very least sonically adjacent) and Turbine Piss. This singles collection compiles all the non-album tracks they’ve released since that early demo to make a thrillingly ‘orrible racket. Twelve years’ worth of punk rottenness and general stupidity contained in 29 tracks and 40 noisy minutes. It is, of course, fucking brilliant. From the gleefully melodic dumbness (and Booji Boy-flavoured additions) of ‘My Embarrassment’ to the malevolent rumble of ‘Double Trouble’, not to mention a fabulously energised cover of Icona Pop’s dance-pop smash ‘I Love It’, every track here is a winner. It’s the perfect tonic for your rage and the perfect foil to a cruel world where everyone else’s disdain seems more pronounced than your own. You owe it to yourself to complete your record shelves with this instantly classic comp - it’s punk rock par excellence. And as for that ‘hating all music thing’... ah, who cares, this is all gold. Listen immediately, you’ll be causing chaos to its raucous brilliance before you know it.

[engl] Questionably a hardcore band’ is how Daddy’s Boy describe themselves, and one listen to their discombobulatingly brilliant debut LP should answer all your questions as to what that could possibly mean. Recorded with Steve Albini at Electrical Audio, GREAT NEWS! is the sound of punk folding in on itself and racing through sounds you might have previously identified with dumb genre tags like post-punk and possibly even no-wave - except this isn’t either of those things. It rages smartly and discordantly across a wide terrain of undulating rhythms and coruscating rifferema, eventually settling on something that’s… well, kinda uniquely Daddy’s Boy. So what makes this sound? Specifically, four humans who are too clever to simply follow the ‘three chords, now form a band’ template without trying to fuck up the corners (and work their way into the centre). Members of Split Feet, Retreaters and Fake Limbs pile up together to create this delicious cacophony, and you’ll be glad they did. When vocalist Jes Skolnik intones, “I’m so fucking important,” you know it’s drenched in venomous irony, but it’s difficult not to agree: GREAT NEWS! feels like a record that’ll last way beyond those ‘best of the year’ lists and continue to pulverise your eardrums for years to come. It’s the sort of record that felt like the future when Touch & Go Records pushed hardcore past its knuckleheaded limitations 40 years ago, and still feels like no one ever really caught up. It’s the riffs from Cows’ Cunning Stunts, cribbing notes from Crass’ Feeding Of The 5,000, with vocal delivery pitched to ‘gloriously matter-of-fact’. Oh, and no spoilers, but in Skolnik, Daddy’s Boy might just have one of the smartest lyricists in (questionable) hardcore right now. Mark my words, this is some record.

[engl] Whaddya mean, you don’t know Dark Thoughts? They’ve mastered the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it-twice energy of that sneaky subgenre some call ‘Ramonescore’ and made it their own, revelling in hooks and pace while making you wanna inhale a good lungful of industrial strength glue (no, your pritt stick won’t do the job). The Philadelphia trio have been making a ludicrously addictive noise for a few years now, dropping their self-titled debut back in 2016, and now they’re ready to move out of the shadows and firmly into ‘your new favourite band’ territory. References? You got ‘em: they’ll call to mind the Bay Area punk of the 80s/early 90s, the I-gotta-weld-that-sound-to-my-brain instancy of Dear Landlord, the in-yer-face-and-out-the-back-of-yer-skull buzzsaw racket of The Queers or The Riverdales (and you don’t even have to worry about that turd Ben Weasel being involved). They’re a goodtime noise for downbeat folks, and they know how to get your subconscious begging for more. Not many bands will make you wanna spike your boss’ drink with bleach before driving your car into a ravine with the volume turned way up. Dark Thoughts are one of ‘em. Get familiar, asap.

[engl] “You only get worse,” goes the first line on Dark Thoughts’ third album, but while they might be correct about your personal decline, this West Philly trio are quite evidently better than ever. Hot on the heels of 2018’s At Work LP – 18 months later, to be precise – this new collection sees the band at their wilfully-dumb-but-smarter-than-u best, knocking out Ramonescore nuggets of the purest gold as if their lives depended on it. Whether imploring you to ‘listen to the radio’ or simply ‘please don’t leave me alone’, Jim Shomo’s voice remains the perfect balance of snot-drenched sneer and wounded croon, while the band lock into their fast’n’furious groove to frame his lovelorn melodies with the correct amount of muscle, and maybe they’ll even pour a few beers directly into their amps while they’re at it. Sure, they retain the sound that powered those first two albums, but they know what they’re doing – if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it; if you’re broke, write a 90-second punk banger about it with an irresistible melody and play it as loud as possible. As if to prove that fact, synth-splashed closer Must Be Nice shows they might even have written their best cut yet. Getting back to that first song, Hesitate, Shomo goes on to say: “I’ve seen the future / It looks so much brighter than it used to.” On the basis of Be Nice, it’s difficult to argue with that assessment: this is the perfect synthesis of pop and punk and a welcome reminder that your 70s heroes just wanted to recreate the unforgettable 45s they heard on the radio as kids. The 12 songs here may be destined for your turntable rather than the wireless, but you’ll treasure ‘em every bit as much. Another classic from a band that just doesn’t know how to stop writing ‘em – Dark Thoughts forever. Will Fitzpatrick

[engl] Some bands make you feel like testing out a new pair of slippers in the local library. Other bands, maybe you’ll throw a beer down your throat before skating down a ravine. But the best type of bands make you wanna tear off your own ears and clamp ‘em to the heads of everyone you hold dear, while you scream ‘YOU CAN HEAR WHAT I’M HEARING, RIGHT?’ Denim & Leather are the latter type. They mainly sound like Pissed Jeans flipping over a cement mixer while Kira-era Black Flag stand in a circle around ‘em, throwing firecrackers. Except for when they don’t – then they sound like the wooziest buncha too-cool-for-you guitar-slingers around, with lips curled to implausible angles. Sacred Autism is their debut album and you owe it to yourself to go deaf to it at the earliest opportunity. Wanna hear what pure euphoria feels like? Cathedral Gardens is all punk energy and corrosive fury, the reason you got into this whole mess. Hatchlings is The Stooges starting a brickfight, then smirkingly denying all involvement. Ancient Cowboy Burial Ground, meanwhile, is serious business. Think you can knock a band who share a name with a Saxon album? Just try it. Denim & Leather just made the best hardcore album you’ll hear this year, leaving everyone else with the unenviable task of attempting to follow it. Buy it, catch ‘em live, then steal a cop car and see if it’ll run on cheap lager. It’s a logical progression, trust me.

[engl] Meet Ditches, from Stockholm coming straight out the gutter and speeding into the part of your brain where all the catchiest melodies lurk for the rest of time. This is their debut LP, a frantic collision of powerpop, garage rock and the most addictive of yer favourite punk classics. Think the snot of the Adolescents with JJ O’Neill’s natural way around a melody, or simply recall Jeff Burke of The Marked Men/Radioactivity’s knack for invoking the tartrazine high and the sugar crash at exactly the same time. All these things can be found here, and plenty more besides. Burke actually shows up on production duties, lending backing vocals where necessary, although while it’s evident that Ditches’ approach shares a certain something with his outfits, they also very clearly sculpt their own universe. Songs like Stitch Me Up owe as much to high speed pub rockers like The Boys as to the Denton, Texas sound, while there’s a gentle nod to the endlessly memorable hooks of Pete Shelley in their plaintive melodies, as well as a whole lotta stuff that’s fundamentally their own. Mainly though, this is just a thrill ride from start to finish. Get it on your stereo, start pogo-ing and accept you’ll be repeating this for the rest of forever. The best band to come out of Sweden since… ooh, I don’t know. Ebba Grön? Yep, probably. Will Fitzpatrick.

[engl] Originally released on Sister Polygon Records and re-released to coincide with the debut Downtown Boys 'European tour. DOWNTOWN BOYS EXPLOSIVE DEBUT Don't miss this truly whacked out party from Providence, Rhode Island's most dangerous political prisoners. Downtown Boys are: Victoria Ruiz (vocals) Joey DeFrancesco (guitar/vocals) Emmett Fitzgerald (tenor sax) William Cioffi (alto sax) Norlan Olivo (drums) Daniel Schleiffer(bass) Recorded by GL Jaguar at Swim Two Birds Studio, Washington DC "Sure, this will be a controversial superlative, but fuck it, I’m going out on a limb and declaring right now: Downtown Boys are currently the best active punk band in the United States. I don’t make such statements carelessly. Providence, Rhode Island’s Downtown Boys may not be a household name, even in most punk houses, but they should be. The six-piece utilizes highly danceable manic punk blasts as a soapbox for their confrontational but heartfelt radical political screeds. The self-billed “bilingual political sax dance punk party” draws many influences together to create something that sounds familiar enough to pull you onto its frantic wavelength, but refreshing enough to keep you there. One might detect hints of The Fall, Bikini Kill, The Contortions, and The Ex, as much as the obvious comparison, X Ray Spex, who Downtown Boys share more in common with sonically than simply a saxophone and female singer." Dangerous Minds.

[engl] It begins with a rustle of noise, equally reminiscent of distorted factory noise and a cassette recording of cathedral bells unspooling, before a near-robotic beat and stuttering bassline enter the fray. Initially, you could be forgiven for thinking you’ve stumbled across the lost tapes of Joy Division’s early Warsaw incarnation, but the atonal blast of strafing guitars fading in and out soon make you realise this is a very different proposition. This is The Drin, and ‘Engines Sing for the Pale Moon’ is their debut album. It’s also one of the best things you’ll hear all year. Helmed by Dylan McCartney, drummer of the rock band Vacation, The Drin originally released this album as a hyper-limited cassette via Future Shock. It’s as much of a departure from McCartney’s usual output as it is for Drunken Sailor Records; songs don’t so much explode out of the gate as drift towards you like a creeping fog that turns your skin inside-out and leaves you sloshing organs all across the carpet. Second track ‘Guillotine Blade’ shows the pieces all coming together, a dubbed-out riot of claustrophobic noise that feels like Pere Ubu trapped in a cupboard one minute, and ‘Warm Jets’-era Eno trying on Bauhaus’ trenchcoats the next. Meanwhile, ‘Down Her Cheek A Party Tear’ unfolds across jittering, skittering rustles of drums and an undulating bassline, making you wonder why post-millennial post-punk so often settles for dickheads shouting non-sequiturs over landfill indie, when it could be entering these dark, unsettling territories instead. The Drin like to get weird. The Drin like to get wild. The Drin rarely cut loose, but that’s because the trip is already intense and haunting enough without things getting raucous in here as well. Hey kids, turn off those [shite band name redacted] records and get into this; you deserve so much better, and better’s right here. Fall into it, immerse yourself and step forward into a brave new world.

[engl] Way out there. From up in the attic, in the village of Cincinnati - the third album from the Drin has arrived to commence 2023. Cold rhythms reverberate through the layers of tape spliced together by Dylan McCartney and his impressive cadre of musical companions. The Drin spawned from a debut cassette edition of 50 on the Future Shock label, since teaming up with both Drunken Sailor and Mangel to issue two LPs. Their loose, careening live unit features members of Corker, Crime of Passing, the Serfs and Fruit LoOops. 'Today My Friend You Drunk the Venom' is the Drin's finest hour as a creative entity. McCartney's incredible command of rhythm lies at the forefront of the mix, complimented by a group that is able to seamlessly transport between post-punk, acid guitar jangle, and krautish experimentalism. There's even a stellar dub track on here. As much as contemporary artists tend to flaunt their affinity for the past - it's entirely worthless to apply such trappings to the Drin. Their genre-expansive abilities and deep knack for rhythm and layering are something entirely new and futuristic. Ohio has never sounded so close to outer space.

[engl] Debut LP from this Chicago band that is a new iteration of Broken Prayer. If you were a fan of Broken Prayer it’s hard to imagine how you wouldn’t be on board with Droid’s Blood, since they rely on a similar combination of noisy hardcore and whirring synth topped with Scott Plant’s trademark topical lyrics and distinctive vocals. Since 2016 Plant has been fronting Droids Blood, whose lineup also includes Broken Prayer drummer Nick Donahue. On their new self-titled tape, they vary the tempos more and even add some borderline poppy hooks, but there's also lots of grimy, slightly industrial synth gunk and bass murk—"Unreality" sounds deranged in the best possible way. "As a rush of drums introduces Droids Blood’s debut album Be Free, you might think you know what to expect. Maybe some snappily energetic powerpop in the vein of The Marked Men, or even some Uranium Club-styed post-garage oddball punk? As the guitars kick in, however, all your preconceptions are reduced to rubble; smashed to dust and debris by a singularly powerful wrecking ball of chaos and darkness. Something immediately goes very wrong – and it feels so fkn right. This album was initially self-released on cassette by the band, earlier this year in their hometown of Chicago. Featuring vocalist Scott Plant and drummer Nick Donahue – formerly of that city’s pleasingly gnarly synth-punx Broken Prayer, whose sole album was titled Misanthropocentric A.K.A. Droid's Blood, funnily enough – they make a whirling racket of post-punk noise, goth soundscape and beautifully bleak frustration illustrating the narrow line between aggression and desperation. If dystopia was a sound, it’d be this one. “Another world is possible / It’s possible, but how so?” growls Plant on the vitally urgent Capable, and it’ll make you wanna throw your Protomartyr records in the bin before hosting a ceremonial burning with a deathrock soundtrack. Familiar names will come up when you’re listening – Joy Division, Bauhaus, Iceage when they were good, Clan of Xymox in a brick fight, etc etc – and they out-pace and out-intense ‘em all. But ultimately Droids Blood uphold the fine traditions of all their city’s best punk by sounding like no one other than themselves. Just buy it, FFS." Will Fitzpatrick.

[engl] The Chicago-based band Earth Girls featuring Liz Panella- guitar/vocals (Libyans, Siamese Twins, Broken Prayer), Jeff Rice- drums (Daylight Robbery), and Joey Kappel- bass (Broken Prayer, Boilerman), began in early 2013 following two previous incarnations as The Waifs (2008) and Embarrassed Teens (2011). Bonding over a shared love for both hook-laden garage / pop-punk and energy drinks, Liz and Jeff began practicing incessantly that summer, writing both new material as well as refining songs that had made it through the ranks of the two previous bands. Along with Joey (who had logged time in Embarrassed Teens), Earth Girls finished up writing the songs that would make up their demo that summer. However, the band held off on recording as they worked on securing a second guitar player. Struggling with a revolving cast of second guitar players (who have included Kale Mouser, Vince Aguilar, and Nic Allred), they opted to record as a trio, with Liz handling both rhythm and guitar tracks. Their first recording session consisted of nine songs, including the five song demo and four songs that would go on to make up their debut EP, "Wrong Side of History." With both a demo release and first show planned for Feburary of 2014 at Engine Haus in Chicago, Earth Girls were also making plans to self-release the "Wrong Side of History" EP later that spring when they were approached by Grave Mistake Records who had recently heard the demo and EP tracks and expressed interest in working with the band. Drunken Sailor Records quickly got on board for a UK version of the EP, and "Wrong Side of History" will see it's official release on June 17th, 2014.

[engl] Excited to bring you the debut Erik Nervous LP, 'Assorted Anxieties, that comprises the Shipshewana Swimming (Demo) (including an outtake that wasn't on the 7 version), the winter cassingle, the Teen Distortion Junk Music EP, Ice Cream7", the Discontinuous Innovation tape, and the track off the Killed By Meth 2 comp. 'Funny word, ‘dumb’. And especially so when it comes to punk - kinda suggests the artist doesn’t know what they’re doing, or if they do, they’re too stupid to know any better. These are not charges you would wish to level at Erik Nervous, who knows exactly what he’s doing and is way too smart to play it any other way. And yet! And yet! The 24 songs collected on Assorted Anxieties are gleefully, wonderfully, brilliantly, heroically dumb. Three-chord odes on boredom, shitty jobs (and too many of ‘em at that), having no money and whatever else occurs to him at any one time, these songs are the perfect antidote (or maybe soundtrack to, or maybe riposte to) the relentless grind of the day-to-day, played with a frantic energy that recalls Wire circa Pink Flag, The Fall circa Grotesque (After The Gramme) and the rawest, simplest rock’n’roll you’ve ever heard in your life. Listen to the lyrics if you wanna engage your brain, bop along to the frantic garage-punk mania if you can’t be bothered with all that ‘thinking’ stuff. Either way, revel in a record that’s too clever to take itself seriously and too perfect to give a fuck. If this is what it means to be dumb, let’s all drop out of school right now.' Will Fitzpatrick.

[engl] 6 tracks of Vancouver, BC hardcore. Chain Whip formed in 2018 with the sole intention of playing their favorite blend of hardcore punk. Part KBD, part California beach, part grimy Vancouver. This 12" E.P. finds the band in a faster, more furious mode with five original tracks written and recorded in the height of the 2020 Pandemic. 3 tracks are re-recorded and polished versions from their 2020 Demo (being pressed on LP RIGHT NOW by No Spirit in Germany) while the others are brand new Chain Whip recordings. The final track, Death Was Too Kind was written by Brian Goble and recorded by the Subhumans.

[engl] If you heard Erik Nervous’ mighty 2018 collection ‘Assorted Anxieties’, you probably thought you had his sound pegged. Bruce Gilbert power chords, rickety garage shonk and a wilful primitivism that starts with a drum machine and ends with a heroically scuffed approach to melody – it all adds up to something pretty irresistible, of course, but what if we told you there was more to come? This time Erik’s joined by The Beta Blockers, and the sound they concoct together is utterly magical. OK, when this self-titled LP comes rattling out of the gate with 90-second barnstormer ‘Violent Dreams’, you may suspect it’s just an amplified version of the old stuff, albeit with full band, but trust me: you ain’t seen nuthin’ yet. Gravure sees ‘em tinkering with an angular skronk-funk that tilts an ear towards yer Minutemen, yer Bogsheds, yer Andy Gills (while ensuring both feet are firmly cemented to as many dumbass hardcore punk records as possible). The thoroughly unexpected ‘Blasted Heath’ brings synths to the foreground in masterly fashion, while the mutant dub of ‘Want To Not Wanna’ feels like a dust-up in a muddy puddle with an ashen-faced Pere Ubu. And there’s still more to come. It’ll keep you guessing, this record. It’s still recognisably the work of Erik Hart (for that is his true name), only distorted and further frayed at the edges. It’s the sort of snappily smart sidestep you wish more bands would be willing to take, while remaining within touching distance from their roots. Best of all, it places the Michigan-based wonder alongside fellow punk explorers like Uranium Club; utterly aware of punk/hardcore/post-punk/whatever’s past and its limitations, but determined to find the lesser-explored gaps that lie between and make them his own. Make no mistake, this is a mighty record. By the time the Saints-style brass of ‘Make Up To Break Up’ brings this frantically tense album within sight of a glorious conclusion, we’re in full party mode, ready to carry Erik Nervous around on a hastily-assembled throne before dumping him in a barrel of beer. If this is what expanding your horizons can do, let’s all set sail for the edge of the world immediately. Even if we fall right off the side, it’ll be worth it Will Fitzpatrick. limited on 200 Black/ 100 Green vinyls

[engl] I’ve been throwing jelly and ice cream at the walls throughout the duration of this record. I’m wearing sunglasses indoors and dreaming of a world where The Barracudas became not just a tongue-in-cheek footnote in the great powerpop textbook, but the most universally adored band in the world. Where The Archies started wearing skinny ties and pouring cheap lager into their amps just to see what happens. Where Teenage Fanclub start and end every day rubbing a little dab of speed on their gums. Where Ohio Express are made to play Yummy Yummy Yummy in the middle of a drag race. Look, it’s just really good fun, ok? First Base are from Toronto and this second album sees them picking up where their 2013 debut LP left off: pop as hell and punk as fuck. Not That Bad is the sound of a band stretching out and bettering itself without losing sight of what was so fucking great about ‘em in the first place. A worthy sequel, a damn fine introduction, whatever. It just rules. Now excuse me, I have walls to clean before flipping the vinyl again and dropping the needle back at the start… Aww, who am I kidding? The walls can wait.