These Mancunian maniacs need no introduction but the uninitiated can click on the following links to read my reviews of Dirty Den’s March Of Suffering EP and FLIES LP.
Almost a year on from their debut album FLIES, this new double-header homes in on their less-considered moods. Chaotic without being careless, House Of Pain is a booming blast of off-beat drums, post-punk bass, schizophrenic guitars and free-roaming vocals. Tortured, guitar-led blow-outs punctuate Ben’s peerless vocals, switching from barely-suppressed frustration to primal roar.
A Time Of Peace is a short, blunt motör-punker with crazily-garbled vocals and, at just over a minute long, still manages to cram in an over-driven bridge, before finding catharsis in a screaming climax. I mean, phew.
It’s good to see THE BATTERY FARM back, still rooted in primal punk fury, suffused with their unique idiosyncrasies. Wonder what they’ll do next? Probably a concept album on the correct shade of Northern tea.
77 SPEARS continue their mission to release a double A-side single every 45 days throughout 2023 – digitally, of course – complete with sleeve art. Those losers neglected to send me the second round but you can click here to see what I said about the first two.
Peace. Love. Happiness. is up first and… it’s half a minute of d-beat-driven hardcore. Tj’s bile-fuelled vocals are splattered across a dirty punk groove, sliced down the middle with 4 seconds of startling psych-soul guitar. How about that? I’d take an album full of this stuff any day. The minute-longer Stop The Clock is no less ferocious for being a little more considered, alternating between an East Bay Ray guitar line slicing through blast beats and a more mid-paced punk roar.
In contrast to the ugly negativity of the music, the bittersweet optimism of Tj’s minimal lyrical flourishes is a joy, covering such lightweight topics as the passing of time and, y’know, the meaning of life.
“Free. Weightless. Feel no shame. All regrets are fucking useless. Peace, love, and happiness.”
Peace. Love. Happiness.
I like this Singles Club campaign a whole lot. It’s neat waiting to see what they’ll come up with next and the quality is high. Taking inspiration from different strands of the genre, 77 SPEARS manage to produce a curiously timeless, thoroughly gnarly brand of hardcore punk.
Released by One More Time Records on 28th September 2023
Birthed in the right wing cesspool of the Canadian prairies, Half Dead is here to play loud, fast and pissed. No nazis, no terfs, no cops no jerks!
band bio
On their follow-up to 2022’s impressive Binch EP, HALF DEAD continue to sup from the cup of early 80s US hardcore, beefing up the guitars and production for a fresher, more imposing listen.
For a hardcore album, surprisingly few of these twelve tracks are fast, yet most still come in under two minutes. Spitting vitriol from the off, the powerful, overdriven Absolved exudes unrelenting meanness in its driving pace. A weighty BLACK FLAG influence flits throughout, as on the messy In Control, and the nasty, pissed-off vocals and stark guitar lines of Card Declined, the latter sporting a nifty DEAD KENNEDYS-style build. We’re four tracks in (Copaganda) before we get velocity, and even then a colossal breakdown takes it.
There’s nothing real about your favorite show Where the star is the cop and the cops a hero How many cops are there on death row? Spilling blood on the streets but its never their own
There’s nothing real about your favorite show Where the star is the cop and the cops a hero How many cops are there on death row? Spilling blood on the streets but its never their own
Cops don’t keep us safe We keep each other safe who keeps us safe from cops?
Copaganda
There’s more DK guitar work on the short, catchy Land Hoard – with male/female vocal trade-off in the verses – popping up again on fist-in-the-air favourite Pound Of Flesh, and Ritalin‘s snotty nihilism. There’s a little slow MDC about the dragging Change Room Blues, all mean vocals and tortured musicianship before it grinds to a halt. They showcase fleeting guitar effect stabs on 15 Pack‘s pounding assault and the short, fast Running Down The Clock, while Luxury Bones‘ discordant guitar lines, male vocal interjections and cathartic chorus form a sonic seducer worth slamming to. Finale Going Sober is the only track with a nod to an earlier time – only a little, mind – with a vaguely rock ‘n roll riff, more male/female vocal trade-offs and vaguely post-punky guitar lines.
Careering between downbeat nihilism and defiant dissent, the lyrics are brief spitballs that get the job done. They kick against religious brainwashing, police corruption, male sexual harassment, and slumlords, while also challenging society’s expectations from a female perspective… and breath… financial hardship, alcohol dependency, addiction to prescription drugs, and crappy jobs. I mean, it’s not TOY DOLLS.
With twelve tracks in around 22 minutes, Hillary Shields’ venomous vocal delivery backed by such searing hardcore punk makes for a vibrant, confrontational listen, each song a shrewdly-crafted nugget. Tight but not squeaky, messy without being a mess, Nasty, Brutish & Short is just that.
Who said you can’t dance to metal? Well, they fucking lied.
This twin-release is the first from 77 SPEARS Singles Clubcampaign, which “pays digital homage to the joys of classic pop 45 rpm records, with a new pair of songs to be released every 45 days through 2023.” Sounds cool.
You would expect the band to start a song called You Can’t Dance To Metal with a cheeky, arch piano intro followed by some widdly guitar, wouldn’t you? They don’t disappoint. From there, it occupies that sweet spot where they simply have no time for stuffy verse/chorus shit, only moments that build. The vocals – not too dissimilar to Mike Patton‘s more devilish endeavours – roar minimal lyrics over a battering rhythm section and tack-sharp guitar riffs. The message? ‘Don’t listen to the naysayers, just do it!‘
I don’t care about another verse so I’mma fuck it off so we can get to the chorus.
Mr Nihilism has a vigorous, motörpunk riff, but the verse/chorus shenanigans are quickly abandoned in favour of a bluesy, ‘devil at the crossroads‘ preacher-lude. The lyrical schtick of ‘fuck the nihilists, how we treat people matters‘ hits the spot too.
Rising above the slightly murky production, 77 SPEARS grow ever more confident, throwing their arresting ideas at timeless punk tropes to plough an oddly addictive furrow. Buoyed by brief song lengths, anchored by TJ’s knack for an interesting lyrical hook, they are gamely squeezing themselves up and out of the pack. Imaginative, inventive, raw. A DIY treat.
Sometimes music doesn’t need to push boundaries, exhibit complexity or make a statement, sometimes music just needs to kick your ass, and that’s exactly what Regress are here to do with All Washed Up.
from promo
Following up 2022’s Justified Paranoia, LA duo REGRESS outdo themselves with a primitive fusion of power-violence, grind and hardcore, held together with some Double Indemnity movie clips. Frantic, chaotic, and despairing, these twelve tracks expose you to the dubious delights of mucky thrash, creepy-crawl sludge and whirlwind blast-beats, and at just over 17 minutes long, being bored isn’t an option. The bass is particularly disgusting, but then a damaged production ensures everything else isn’t far behind. Schizoid, nihilistic thrash that’ll make you want to shower after listening. SPAZZ without the humour. I have to be in the mood.
released on May 5th 2023, so out now on digital and CD
Imports from the developing world often cost so little to buy. The people there live in abject poverty – do you ever wonder why? To ignore is to be ignorant of the true cost of our demands. Exploited labour and resources – perhaps it goes without saying that if we can get things for so little then someone else must be paying.
the real cost
Scarborough duo ACTIVE MINDS have not only remained uncompromisingly DIY since their inception in 1986, they continue to respond to ongoing political and social injustice. The songs here are linked by themes of colonialism, exploitation of the earth’s peoples and resources and our complicity in the process, notwithstanding a couple of side bars into war propaganda and military dictatorship.
The Destruction Of Tribal Cultures draws a link between Europe’s colonialist past and the way in which we are exploiting the planet’s natural resources to extinction. To Preserve Our Standard Of Living and The Real Cost continue this theme from the perspective of the West maintaining its lifestyle at the expense of people living in developing countries. The global economy doing what it does best and, tellingly, a topic they’ve felt compelled to visit often over the years. The spotlight is on the exploitation of animals for Close Them Down, positing that zoos should be resigned to the past, all conservation work undertaken in the wild. I concur. It may come as a surprise to some, myself included, that the use of animals in circuses was banned in the UK only as recently as 2020. Away from this theme, Conflict Of Interests is a reminder that no matter how our leaders may dress up war as righteous – Iraq and Afghanistan, for example – they are all ultimately fought for vested interests. Finally, it is heartening to see the plight of the Rohingya people of Myanmar highlighted (Rohingya). The ‘friendly’ face the military dictatorship displayed to the world by allowing Aung San Suu Kyi to be its ‘leader’, and her subsequent failure to halt their brutal crackdown is covered. AM have always believed that having a platform comes with a responsibility to say something of value and that continues here. The booklet contains succinct lyric explanations, presenting the facts alongside their own take on the subject.
Musically, there’s no doubt this is a sextet of sharp, varied punk tunes, but there are no keyboards, dance riffs or atmospheric folk intros, all things they have explored in the past. In Rohingya, we have a classic AM entrée of a menacing, metallic build to a speedy gallop, crammed with fierce riffs, savage vocals, and whirlwind drums. They add a neat speed metal influence on The Destruction Of Tribal Cultures, a little SLAYER on the vocal, and even a metally ‘squeee‘ on the guitar, shouldering some unexpected riffs. To Preserve Our Standard Of Living provides their trademark hooky hardcore with a fast n’ tight classic, the vocals balanced midway between restrained and tenacious. By contrast, my pulse quickens when I see short song lengths, and Conflict Of Interests‘ breathless, 37 seconds of blast-beats and high-pitched ‘yaaaa yaaaaa‘ vocals is a brutally efficient use of cathartic thrash, while The Real Cost offers up 44 seconds of d-beat punkage. The distorted, ‘white noise’ vocal effect on Close Them Down is hugely effective and, though the song has a fairly traditional rock structure, they feed it through their gnarly, scuzz mangler, rendering it thoroughly AM-worthy. It’s another new wrinkle for the band and a real highlight of this EP.
The transitory nature of things can be disconcerting. The fact that ACTIVE MINDS keep on keeping on, their need to highlight and protest injustice undimmed, is a huge source of inspiration. Blood Is On Our Hands – presumably a riff on INSTIGATORS‘ mid-80s song and EP The Blood Is On Your Hands – is a blazing addition to their discography, and anyone interested in earthy DIY punk with an unswerving dedication to unflinching debate should check it out.
Newburgh, NY’s BOBBY EDGE, ex-member of melodic punkers THE JUKEBOX ROMANTICS, seeks to escape the shackles of genre. Algorithm & Blues is without doubt unrestrained by tropes and rules, particularly of the punk stripe. So what to make of this enthralling wander through American musical history?
I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it wasn’t the Acappella BEACH BOYS-harmony intro (H.W.S.). Nor the unabashed, 50’s doo-wop sway of Momento Maury. Yep, you read that right. Somehow managing to sound simultaneously timeworn and fresh, this instant classic threw me right back to childhood, listening to my parents’ That’ll Be The Day soundtrack in the car. I mean, it ain’t punk, but I’m all over it. Just as you think you have it figured out, the indie-surf breeze of Endless Suffer shifts into breakneck, Summery skate-punk. A straight cover of FATS DOMINO‘s 50’s classic Ain’t That A Shame holds the tone, but, crucially, the short n’ sweet, country-twang harmony of Die Hard, Live Soft ushers in more surprises. Enter the snappy surf-punk of Calamity Of Now, transporting the band forward in time, though they’re still unable to resist ending with more of that delicious doo-wop. The Evil That Men Do, as well as being a beautifully written song, sounds like Americana DECEMBERISTS playing American Graffiti covers.
Out of nowhere, Civil Wart hits you with a two-minute blast of face-shredding, hardcore punk. I’ll say that again, in the context of reviewing an album rooted in 50’s doo-wop and rock n’ roll. Face-shredding hardcore punk. I know. Speed, aggression, gang shouts, runaway lead guitar, and, incredibly, they still manage to mix in the fuckin’ doo-wop on the chorus. It’s… genius. This confounding album ends on a high, with the 1-2 punch of the Phil Spector-penned Why Don’t They Let Us Fall In Love? (recorded by THE RONETTES), and the delightful Small Frog. The former sees the originals’ honking wall of sound swapped for a sprightly slice of chunky guitar doo-wop, the latter showcasing Bobby’s supreme songwriting chops. Small Frog is a timeless piece of meandering pop, with a soft heart and some rather lovely off-key moments. What can I say? It turned my knees to jelly and made me realise just how jaded I’d become.
Produced, mixed and mastered by John Naclerio (My Chemical Romance, Brand New, Autopilot Off, Just Surrender), who clearly understood exactly where BOBBY EDGE wanted to go, capturing just the right amount of 50’s dancehall nostalgia and modern crunch.
Doo-wop, hardcore, skate-punk, Americana, and rock n’ roll, all on one short album. Through all the unexpected twists, turns, and immense songwriting, an irresistible romanticism lies at the core of this love letter to American music of the past. I don’t know who it’ll be marketed at, but if you’re a big ol’ softy like me, I urge you to play it in full, mouth (and mind) agape. You might just fall in love with this joyous bag o’ treats. I know I did.
Sheffield-based THIS IS NOT A DRILL take the first side of this split, each band throwing in a tidy six tracks. Social Media Person is a solid enough start, a rational challenge to the growing conspiracy theory malaise. A compelling intro, complete with voiceover clips, gives way to fast, blaring hardcore punk, invigorating enough to rise above generic riffage. There’s a similarity to ’00s-era THE EXPLOITED on the otherwise banging anthem I Ain’t Got Time To Bleed, but by Don’t Meet Your Heroes, they’ve clearly found their sweet spot. A spine-tingling intro, a little DEAD KENNEDYS tickle on the guitar, gang vocals up to full power, and we’re off. Chugging fist-waver Gammon Triggers has all the terrace-style chants you need, in 54 seconds. (All Lives Matter When) Black Lives Matter (As Much As White Lives) – strong song titles, guys – sees the guitarist running away with an impressive solo, and What Would Misfits Do? ends their side on a load-lightening high. A Return Of The Living Dead clip ushers in a cute MISFITS pastiche that works a treat. So what would they do? Well, have a listen and you’ll find out.
THIS IS NOT A DRILL may borrow from the early ’80s sounds of UK brick-wall punk, but they are not in thrall to it. Positioned firmly in the present, with their hardcore dynamics, juicy guitar work, and towering anthems, these boys are on their toes.
Derby/Burton-based SODS LAW have been around for the best part of 10 years, which makes it even more peculiar that their side is so uninspiring. Seemingly taking cues from the fag-end of early-mid ’80s UK anarcho-punk (AOA, ANTI SYSTEM, LEGION OF PARASITES), prole-Oi! vocals bark out blunt protest lyrics, over clumsy, derivative punk rock. There are moments, mind. It’s pacey enough, the cod-reggae interludes in The Bombs Fall break it up, the guitar sometimes has an overdriven churn, and the drumming shows flashes of punk shine. However, while the horrible Fuck Off may have inexplicably lodged itself in my brain, I can’t shake the feeling that they’re trapped in a solidified drop of amber nostalgia. Sounds like a demo that was rejected for a Pax Records compilation, which will no doubt serve as a recommendation for some. And hey, at least they’re doing something, right?
Both bands deal in time-worn protest lyrics, but at least THIS IS NOT A DRILL have a feel for the zeitgeist and a sense of humour. Graced with solid production, they would have been better served releasing these tracks as an EP in their own right. Now that would have been something.
On which two big-hitters of today’s UK hardcore punk scene set decades of influence on a thoroughly modern spin cycle.
Hailing from England’s South Coast, ÄTTESTOR knock out 3 songs in just over 3 minutes, the very epitome of fast, angry and tight. Taking inspiration from UKHC of the past (RIPCORD, SPITE), itself aping the hurly burly of 1980’s Boston, MA, there’s an excitable impatience to the piledriver crunch. The band describe their sound as ‘adhd-beat‘ and, with a detectable accent and words you can hear, its an irresistible take. The drummer is razor-edge tight, with a gorgeously snappy snare. The production keeps all the elements working in sync, sharp and clear without losing heft. The Void is the stand out track, a hint of d-beat, gurgling bass and an effectively dissonant second half, but it’s all good. Proof in fact, that ÄTTESTOR are the hungry young(ish) bucks of this record…
… which makes ZERO AGAIN the wise old sages. Either way, they are killing it with these two tracks and, particularly on Damaged Goods, the band bring all of their myriad history to bear. A PENI-esque riff, the metallic heaviness of GRAND COLLAPSE and a WARWOUND rind of crust, rampage over deeply buried subtleties. Spiralling guitar anxiety fights for space with a chugging pace, the latter betraying time spent in metallic punk outfits, but the door is firmly booted in for the breakneck sprint to the finish. Damaged Goods will have you thrumming with excitement but, before you recover, the brutally brief Passing Ritual will throw you through the wall with a pitch-perfect, primal roar of crusty hardcore.
You can tell this band have been around the block a time or two, honing their skills to within an inch of their lives. Equally importantly, they have vision. Boots planted firmly in the present, theirs is a bleak but defiant outlook, coupled with their own brand of desperate, crushing hardcore. Treading similar ground to ENDLESS GRINNING SKULLS, ZERO AGAIN are so much heavier and way more tightly wound. The forthcoming album threatens to be a game changer.
Hardcore punk records, there’s a lot of ’em about. You need this one though…
released 16th September 2022 by TNS Records, in conjunction with Dead Invoice Records (UK), D.I.Y. Kolo Records (Poland) and Carabrecol Records (Spain)
…I’ll lie in pools of my own piss With my blood flooding with gout I’m an animal locked in a fucking cage In an animal shithouse
from ‘Animal Shithouse’
Youthful Tunbridge Wells unit ANIMAL SHITHOUSE are just a year old. Go listen to this debut four track EP of unhinged, inventive punk rock, then let that sink in.
Three songs orbit around a centre-piece on this, the most impactful debut I’ve heard in a long time. I Lost My Mandy (In The Sainsburys Car Park)‘s crafty, off-beat drums, rumbling bass and sinister guitar teeters between restraint and collapse, while unpredictable vocals seethe, scream and caper. Suitcase is an erratic, post-punk casualty, gulping down the classic rock Kool-Aid, eventually collapsing in a frothing frenzy of cheap speed and crazed solos.
The aforementioned show-stopper is the jaw-dropping, six minute epic Words Are Just That, drawing attention to itself with a gently atmospheric bass intro, patiently building to a melancholy dirge, a la THE MOB. A deceptively simple guitar riff winds around the bass and drums, allowing a fraught vocal to do it’s oddly poetic thing. You’re just at that sweet, head-nodding, eyes-closed moment when the whole thing stops and the vocal delivers devastating, emotionally impactful lines of prose. Think KAE TEMPEST, as possessed by the spirit of NICK BLINKO. The band come back for a twisted denouement, tortured guitar solos and all, before leaving as quietly as it began. Shattering.
Back down to earth and with a nod to a more contemporary influence, Animal Shithouse rounds out House Of Shit with a chest-beating surge of IDLES-esque fury. With vocals like an emotional Joe Talbot duking it out with THE CRUCIFUCKS‘ Doc Dart, the band lock in tight for a primal, pounding, punk noise.
…But words are just that and they mean nothing of worth But maybe feeling nothing is the only feeling of worth ? And will my life’s work just consist of repeating these self serving diatribes? my fickle mind invalidates everything that comes to mind I’ll look out the window on a winters day to realise that the sun will rise over the snow and melt it and I’ll view a summers day through sightless eyes THROUGH SIGHTLESS EYES
from ‘Words Are Just That’
The lyrics deserve special mention, a wasteland of surreal, nightmarish imagery, as brutally effective as the accompanying sounds. Incoherent ramblings of drug abuse, mental illness and existential dread are folded into a stream-of-consciousness stew. It’s heady stuff.
So, do ANIMAL SHITHOUSE fit into the currently cramped corner of post-punk/6 Music darlings? While it would be difficult to argue that they aren’t grinding kinda similar stones, this band are careering along their own unpredictable path, slicing and dicing their way through the punk rock rule book with swivel-eyed zeal. Truly exciting and if this is what comes first, one can only begin to imagine what’s next. Now, will someone please release this on vinyl?
Released in April, so available to stream now on Spotify. Contact the band via their Instagram account.
PERSONAL PUNK 