[engl] Totally excited to release the debut EP from Malos Modales. Hailing from Monterrey, Mexico, 4 amazing Garage/ Pop songs. If you are into The Marked Men, YOU NEED to check these out. Malos Modales are a punk band of people who technically aren’t old but could make some people question this very fact. Formed in Monterrey, Mexico, the band features some familiar faces in its lineup, namely Kiko Blake from División Minúscula (one of the most successful and emotionally charged bands from the past decade), and Johnny Vzz and Hugo “Scrap” Zapata from electroparty mainstays She’s A Tease (Chacho Zapata rounds up the band). They converged and recorded some demos, then decided to take the proper steps to formalize the band. They have recorded a self-titled EP at their rehearsal space with the help of a 4-track tape recorder. In short this is one of the best EPs we have heard for ages

[engl] Debut LP from The Mark Vodka Group, Nova Scotia delivers again. FFO Coneheads, DLIMC, Buzzcocks and sunshine in the city. More effortlessly catchy brilliance from Nova Scotia, Canada, that your ears, speakers and shelves simply cannot live without. You want a quality guarantee? Well, howsabout if I told you that The Mark Vodka Group includes members of the Booji Boys? Their 2019 opus ‘Tube Reducer’ should still be rattling the walls of your house and making your neighbours question the wisdom of moving next door to one of those ‘punk rockers’ the newspapers warned them about. This is a different prospect to the Boojis, of course. While that group buries deceptively tasteful hooks in clouds of ear-lacerating distortion, The Mark Vodka Group opt for a more immediately accessible level of audibility, while still keeping things firmly in the box marked ‘lo-fi’. They sound like a bare-bones Descendants at their most irritably bratty, stealing the Oblivians’ homework and doodling stupid faces all over the most insightful parts. Or maybe the other way around. Point is, they do smart and stoopid simultaneously and they’ll make you wanna dive onto a dancefloor to revel in both sides. As they’re not ashamed to tell you, however, the band have been around this music long enough to grow pissed off with… well, what have you got? Scenester elitism (‘Big Time Rocker’), the sudden trendiness of punk among previously sceptical normies (‘Everybody’s Punk Now’, which also boasts a killer Buzzcocks homage at its peak) and everyone dumb enough to cross them. Truth be told, punk rock doesn’t come out of these lyrical screes too well, but the Mark Vodka Group are too in love with the stuff to truly let go. Besides, as ‘Mark’s Blues’ laments at the album’s close, even when the rest gets you down, there’s always booze to keep us going: “The drinking hasn’t let me down yet.” Hey, Mark Vodka ain’t just a clever name. This is a damn fine record, though. Will Fitzpatrick.

[engl] Martha are probably the best English pop band of the last 10 years, everything they touch turns to gold. After last years perfect debut LP 'Courting Strong', here are two brand new songs, 'The Historian' and an amazing Masshysteri cover of 'Dom Kan Inte Höra Musiken'. Currently writing their 2nd LP, world domination awaits. Benny The Jet Rodriguez from San Pedro follow up their debut LP Home. Run on Recess Records with these new killer songs. I read somewhere that Benny the Jet Rodriguez find a balance between the simple and the complex, between yesterday and today. Lo-fi pop genius, can't get enough of this band.

[engl] Marvelous Mark is the moniker of Mark Fosco, formerly of the band Marvelous Darlings, which also included Matt Delong from No Warning and Ben Cook who plays guitar in Fucked Up. Essentially they were a Toronto punk supergroup "before they were famous", but their limited catalogue - a string of seven-inches - stuck like staples within a cult fanbase long after they called it quits. Now Mark has a solo project. With the title track previously released on Ben Cook's own label Bad Actors, Bite Me is made up of three succinct tracks so infectious they should come with their own NHS advice leaflet. We’re talking power-pop with punk roots. It's every bit as brilliant as you'd expect from a guy who uses "Marvelous" as a prelude to his actual name. Sound of your summer.

[engl] Formerly of Toronto’s blown-out noisepop superstars The Marvelous Darlings, Mark Fosco hasn’t exactly rested on his laurels since that band broke up. Instead, he’s picked up where they left off – now recording as Marvelous Mark, he dropped debut solo LP Crushin’ last year via Drunken Sailor, and it proved not only what a ludicrously talented songwriter he is, but also how much fun can be had with a guitar, a fuzzbox and a whole lotta hooks. Buzzin’ collects the two EPs that preceded that album – Husband Material and Bite Me – together with seven brand new demos, and it’s another essential dose of woozy yet muscular powerpop. Recalling Teenage Fanclub circa Thirteen, Weezer at their catchiest and Slowdive hiding their steroids in thick clouds of weed smoke. It’ll shred your speakers even as it gets your head nodding and your toes tapping – you’ll be singing along and demanding more before you know it. Will Fitzpatrick.

[engl] Amazing debut LP from the former Marvelous Darlings man. After his debut 7" earlier this year 'Bite Me, Mark is back with his infectious pop. Marvelous Mark is the moniker of Mark Fosco, formerly of the band Marvelous Darlings, which also included Matt Delong from No Warning and Ben Cook who plays guitar in Fucked Up. Essentially they were a Toronto punk supergroup "before they were famous", but their limited catalogue - a string of seven-inches - stuck like staples within a cult fanbase long after they called it quits. "Sounding a bit like Big Star with power-pop overtones and a pop-punk driving force, Crushin' is a collection of songs bursting with feeling that sound like they were written while the sun was either going down or coming up."

[engl] It's the year 2019. The future has arrived. And so have THE MIND. A cross-country collaboration made possible by modern technologies but driven by that ancient spirit of creative cooperation between like-minded musical peers. Who are these people you ask? Would calling them two guys from HOMOSTUPIDS and DRYROT summon thoughts of screaming loud guitar rock and aggressive tempos? Perhaps I should refer to them as being members of URANIUM ORCHARD and PLEASURE LEFTISTS. That will get your head somewhere in the area code necessary to digest what has been laid down for us here. To add that they've also played in FACTORYMEN and COSMIC SAND DOLLARS should then make you raise an eyebrow just enough to realize that this LP goes out THERE to the perimeter. It's hard to pin down. Sci-fi post-punk new-wave punk-rock. It's beautiful and rhythmic and weird. Robotic and organic. Future primitive. And I haven't even mentioned the vocals yet - radiant sonic transmissions tuned in straight out of the ether. A girl's voice to tie it all together with an elegant Gordian knot, giving warm life to the cold musical machinery. The cryptic lyrics she's singing so beautifully should not alarm you at all. The record is called 'Edge of the Planet'. The trip to get there starts now.. RICH KRONEISS (Termbo)

[engl] "We all know what teenagers are like. Bratty little gobshites. Moody shits. Forever toeing the line between cocky arrogance and whiny self-doubt, and to hell with anyone who gets caught in the crossfire. And this old fucker should know; he was really good at all of the above (still keeping on top of the ‘gobshite’ part, you’ll notice). For some reason, the entirety of rock’n’roll is predicated on music made for and about these states of mind - well, I guess if you mix ‘em all together, they can make for one helluva sense of reckless abandon. So it shouldn’t come as a surprise that Melbourne quartet Mr Teenage sound exactly like their name suggests: chaotic, raw, emotionally volatile… and of course they bind all this together with their own brand of heroically melodic garage rock. Produced by Billy Gardener (of Ausmuteants, Smarts, Cereal Killer and god knows how many other vital Aus-punx), this debut EP snarls, spits and swaggers with all the glorious self-belief of a drunken 4am stumble to the petrol station to buy a pack of skins. And the songs are fucking great too. Title track ‘Automatic Love’ expertly showcases the combined sounds of their cited influences (Thin Lizzy, Dictators, Martha Reeves, etc), with frontman Nic Imfeld’s voice at times edging close to the sandpaper soul of their countryman Shogun (ex-Royal Headache). Meanwhile ‘Waste Of Time’ sees him blending their garage licks with Joey Ramone bubblegum, just as ‘The Loser’ fashions a delightfully adolescent chorus of ‘the loser says what?’ from an airy melody that either The Shangri-Las or Del Shannon would be proud of. They wrap things up with another slab of pure punk/pub rock genius called ‘Kids’ that’ll get the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end, as you fight the urge to crank-call your former school teachers and blame the kid who used to take your lunch money. Of course, singing about ‘kids these days’ marks Mr Teenage out as being older than their name suggests, and sure enough their name comes from an old wrestler rather than identifying with an age bracket they’ve outgrown. But with tunes like this… honestly, who gives a fuck what they’re called? This record is perfect.

[engl] Halloween has been and gone for another year, but darkwave-inflected hardcore punk never goes out of fashion, right? And frankly, who gives a solitary fuck if it does? Nag’s sinister second album is too busy being an ear-bleeding good time to care about shit like that. It’s too wrapped up asking questions like ‘is this real reality?’ - too caught up in pushing Bernard Sumner minimalism into furiously energetic bruisers and ever-darker corners. It’s the record you’ve been waiting for throughout 2021, whether you knew it or not. This RIPS. Formed in Atlanta, GA, Nag have already dropped an LP (last year’s ‘Dead Deer’, on Die Slaughterhaus) and a handful of 7”s - all must-haves - but they’ve never quite cut loose like this. Vocalist Brannon Greene pitches his delivery somewhere between a caustic holler and a dead-eyed sneer, taking the blank generation for a midnight drive and hurtling straight into a brick wall. Meanwhile, the band nab ideas from no-wave, the wilder ends of Goner Records’ almighty roster, and the best (and sometimes synthiest) aspects of gothed-out post-punk - the resulting concoction may be composed of familiar elements, but it feels like no one else other than Nag. A more hyperbolic and verbose hack than me might say this is the moment that signals the band have ‘arrived’, but not me. I’d just say this is a damn fine record - one of the very best things to have emerged from the wider punk rock mess in the last 12 months. Oh, and I’d add that if you don’t buy it, you may as well sever those things called ears, toss ‘em into the woods and let any of their redeeming qualities seep out into the soil, ‘cause that’s the only way you could continue to argue that they’re serving any useful purpose. But you know, that’s just me. You do you, friend. Actually, scratch that.

[engl] Second LP from Slumb Party, Nottinghams finest Post Punkers. First LP is long gone, don't sleep. Everyone’s favourite herky-jerky Nottingham noiseniks Slumb Party return to blow minds once more. Maybe it’s time you polished all the hard surfaces in your house and strapped on your dancing shoes, cuz once this one lands on your stereo you’re gonna be pulling shapes and bouncing from the floor to the walls and back again. Last time round their influences were clear: James Chance, Minutemen and Gang Of Four rose to the surface in a heady concoction of skronking, sax-drenched post-punk and addictively wonky hooks. This time they’re no less deliciously addictive, but the pop factor rides higher in the mix, at the cost of precisely none of their aching smarts or visceral thrill. A wheezing synth powers opener Go To Work, with nods to the same heroes as before, but also a sense of Attractions-style powerpop appeal – if XTC had ever attempted to refract pub rock through their angular prism while shouting ‘CAN YOU BUY ME A PINT’, it might have felt something like this. Sound good? Of course it fucking does, and it sets the tone for the rest of the album. While their 2017 debut (and if you slept on that masterpiece, then what are you waiting for, dummy?) dealt with working a day job and dealing with getting older, here the world weighs even more heavily on their shoulders. The snarling fury that characterised those songs is transposed to an exhausted rage that’s no less bilious or righteous – being skint, the overwhelming vacuum of ‘creative’ culture, and the general nature of just existing in 2019 all come under the microscope. No spoilers, but turns out all those things are bad; luckily they’re soundtracked and documented by a band that’s (whisper it) maturing (nah, fuck it, shout it: MATURING) into something far greater than the sum of their influences, that simply explodes from the speakers and demands your time. Like Molotov cocktails and lit matches, this is gonna seem daunting to swallow in one go, but the resultant explosion is messy and spectacular. Slumb Party describe this record as their ‘new/no wavey post punk power pop effort’, and that’s a pretty accurate summary: certainly, there’s a Stiff Records/Marked Men undercurrent to all those geometrical puzzles that make up their songs. Leave it to us, though, and we’ll just call it ‘one of the most essential records to emerge from the UK underground this year’. Or order you to drop everything and listen right now. ‘Spending Money’ is a keeper, alright. Will Fitzpatrick.

[engl] Boston Anarcho Punks No Sir I Won't return with their 4th record, Shit and in my opinion their best. Made up of ex and current members of Surrender Libyans, Witches With Dicks, Shithead, Brain Killer and Foreign Objects. Boston's No Sir, I Won't feature members of the mighty Brain Killer (RIP) and Libyans. Musically, they play a sort of classic hardcore that combines the feel of Dead Kennedys and the crust of Crass and Discharge. The band have followed up their More Politicians with this six-song EP, The Door, and it builds on the two songs found on the earlier EP, giving the group a chance to really show what they can do. Maximum Rock N' Roll sez.. "No modern band could possibly carry on the musical tradition of bands like CRASS and ALTERNATIVE like NO SIR, I WON’T. When bands simply fill out popular punk templates it’s boring. That’s kinda what NO SIR, I WON’T is doing, but it’s really cool and interesting; definitely not boring. Their craft is innovative and provoking while recalling moments of the classics. They have specific things they want to say, and they do it vehemently and effectively: poetic, but easy to digest and analyze. Every statement is bold and delivered cleverly. Each chord progression, break, and rhythmic change is compelling. They won me over on the split with AUTONOMY that came out a few months ago, but this EP is even better! Feeling proud to be a punk right now.."

[engl] Back in May 2019, Vancouver trio Corner Boys released their sole album… and promptly split a few months later. In retrospect, they couldn’t have known that the album’s title (‘Waiting For 2020’) would soon seem grimly ironic - and we all know why, right? No reason to go over all that shit again. But while the past two years have at least seen drummer/songwriter Patrick McEachnie staying active across two essential records with hardcore heroes Chain Whip, lockdown saw him switching roles. Basically, he bought a guitar and made an excellent record all on his lonesome, and as followers of his other projects will have come to expect, it’s fucking excellent. ‘Glad To Be Forgotten’ is the debut album by Pack Rat - in some ways you can see some level of crossover with Corner Boys in its manic energy and dedication to hooks (cuts like ‘Next Time Hit Me’ and ‘My Own Reality’ are so damn catchy, you could be forgiven for thinking you’ve already been listening to ‘em on repeat for the past 20 years). Familiar reference points show up (the melodies of the Pointed Sticks; the garage-slanted rifferama of Rudi or The Undertones) while a tinny budget synth keeps things ticking along nicely, just to remind you that this is a homespun DIY project. But honestly, this has the feel of a fully fleshed-out project and leaves you desperate for another fix of its sweet’n’sour tang. For anyone who loves the collision point between ‘New Rose’, powerpop sunshine and sheer rock’n’roll exuberance, this is essential. For everyone else, this is surely the gateway to all of that good stuff. You want to hear the tunes that’ll star on future generations’ equivalents to the Killed By Death comps? That’ll set your pulse soaring and your pogo muscles into overdrive? That’ll remind you of why this punk rock business still feels worth dedicating your life to, even after all this time?

[engl] After a debut LP a couple of years ago, Patrick McEachnie (Chain Whip) is back with a stunning sophomore LP. Where the first LP was Pat taking care of everything, this time it is a full band, resulting in a album of bouncy, power-poppy rippers with great hooks and pop sensibility, inspired by the less abrasive, more melodically driven side of ’70s punk. 13 brand new songs to full in love with. Summer never tasted so good.

[engl] Pale Kids are four queer-punks from Durham, and no they’re not the same band as Martha, although they did record one of their EP’s in their house. High on pop give you their latest opus and it's a total banger. A wise person once said that they sound like a mix of The Undertones (if Fergal Sharkey dropped acid instead of drinking Tizer), Slade and Protex, It's the sound of a party that you were never invited to. Discussing the record, the band suggest it’s about, “being sick, distracted, heartbroken, obsessed, inattentive and the guilt we feel for all these things.

[engl] By all accounts it was looking like the riff was dead and buried in 2024… then this crippling hod of bricks was dumped on the planet’s back. Patrol skilfully combine the glam rock perfection of Sweet, the 80’s heavy metal grit of Judas Priest and the razor sharp melodies of Thin Lizzy. But fear not punks, the backbone of this record has a modern garage pace not unlike Liquids or Sick Thoughts to ensure toes are tapping across the board. Maxime Smadja (Chateau Vergogne Studio/Rixe/Boss) has undoubtedly left his mark of class on this EP, adding additional guitars and vocals as well as taking on all the engineering duties, giving these songs that familiar analog sizzle they deserve. This is the soundtrack to riding rat bikes across the Pyrenees at dawn, with a belly full of amphetamine. Get wired in and turn it up to 11.

[engl] Don’cha just love it when a record sounds elegant, tasteful and charming straight off the bat? If you answered ‘yes’, better swivel on those smartly-soled heels and walk away – this is not the record for you. Personality Cult’s debut LP is short, sassy, snappy, snotty and bursting with razorwire hooks that’ll leave you bleeding but delirious, head spinning from the frantic glory on display. This is powerpop-punk as it was always meant to sound – a nod to the Buzzcocks’ wonky melodicism, a punch in the ribs of Steve Adamyk’s hi-velocity brilliance, a perfectly-aimed loogie in the drink of the Marked Men’s enduring pop timelessness… We are all in the gutter, but some of us brought tunes for dancing and pogo-ing around the record player, so let’s get to it. Brazen is just one of the many winners here, combining gut-shakingly punchy drums with a nailbomb attack of taut guitars and the catchiest chorus this side of Pete Shelley. Heart Attack follows suit – easily the best punk single of 1977, right here and now and brand new for you in 2018. One of the most overdone descriptions of the genre’s simplicity is the word ‘dumb’ – well, Personality Cult are on hand to show that smarts ain’t no bad thing. On Fashionably Late you can hear traces of the Coneheads’ Devo-lved weirdness as well as the effortless pop genius that propels the rest of the album – so why am I singling out individual cuts when the whole is all this good? They’re all winners – give ‘em all a medal. Basically, if this is a cult, I’ll cheerfully take my robe and hand over my life savings right fucking now.

[engl] Philadelphia death rock/dungeon punk band Poison Ruïn consolidate their two EPs into one ten-song, self-titled album. Brained, fleshed, and recorded by Mac Kennedy, this effort is one of a personal nature. The sonic nature of the album has a human looseness, apparent like a cassette tape warbling from being wound and rewound. At times the songs sound thin and brittle, as though they are breaking apart simply by being played. The lyrics walk the same path and describe a world of cosmic horrors and environmental disaster. With their soft, eerie, medieval-hall introductions, each song transports the listener to a world of runes and swords, but staves off dorkiness with the relevance of a chewy post-punk center. Rife with sweetly stark guitar hooks and drums that flail like a death march, this self-titled LP gives off black metal at first glance. On further inspection, there is a gradation of inspirations ranging from pond-hopping blues guitar solos, heavy-handed punk drumming, gothic ambiance, and progressive song structures.

[engl] Snotty and melodic-as-fuck pop-punk from the blazing streets of Austin, TX! Members of Huff Stuff Magazine, Dude Jams!, Capitalist Kids, Wild America & more rage on with their upbeat & unique blend of lo-fi garage slop-pop-punk. Get on it cus this is totally ruling it.

[engl] "Hey, we’re all angry these days. Day in, day out, it feels like all there is to do it kick against the pricks or kick out the jams - sometimes both at the same time. But what do you do when all your righteous anger gets caught up in the mesh of the daily grind? When your despair at the world (and hey, it’s boiling over with right-wing fuckheads, senseless violence and the sort of oppression you might once have idealistically hoped would be a thing of the past by now) is a regular, everyday occurrence, as much a part of your daily routine as getting your caffeine fix in the morning? If ever a sound articulated that feeling, it’d be Public Eye’s second album ‘Music For Leisure’. Written in the wake of the US presidential election in 2016, and surrounded by the sinister political voices that seemingly felt legitimised by you-know-who taking the White House, it’s the sound of fury, righteous indignation, disillusionment and dejection, all wrapped up inside booming elliptical basslines, staccato guitar stabs and pithily spat summations of the American dream. Opening track ‘Descending’ has an air of much-loved gloom-rockers Protomartyr in its monochromatic rumble, but the album’s main musical inspirations come from the punked-out nuggets of the infamous ‘Killed By Death’ compilation series, under the shadow of Wire’s art-damaged racket. Formed in Portland, Oregon in 2016, Public Eye’s membership takes in three-quarters of notorious punks Autistic Youth, but while that band’s take on rock’n’roll was straight-ahead and speedy with it, their new outfit find more inspiration in nuance. ‘Neat Machines/Red Flags’ slashes at your eardrums with subtly jerky time signatures and angular jangles, before vocalist Nick Vicario remains impassive throughout its tastefully melodic second half. Then there’s the album’s greatest moment: the unabashed skronk of ‘The Duet’, which builds to a glorious final minute that sounds like Parquet Courts setting themselves on fire at a free jazz festival. Chaos, in other words, but chaos with the best kind of discipline. Repeats plays reveal greater treasures, and it’s the perfect album to block out (or echo) the buzzing pressure on your brain that comes from trying to get through day-to-day life in this increasingly weird era. Beyond that, it’s just a really fucking good record. Listen now and save yourself. Will Fitzpatrick.

[engl] "Ever been hit in the face with a wooden plank stuffed with rusty nails? Me neither, but I imagine the effect would be something like the sensation of having Montreal five-piece Puffer blasted into your eardrums. Put simply, this is the midpoint between hardcore and dirty ol’ rock’n’roll - part Poison Idea going dumpster-diving outside the garages of Melbourne’s punk scene, part Fucked Up playing their X records on a rotary sander. They’re equally at home with a pacy blur of riffs as they are going for a four-to-the-floor stomp; either way, the ragged larynx sits perfectly astride the roar, while the guitars go full Bob Stinson at his too-drunk-to-fuck-up best. You can practically hear the leather jackets creaking between phrases. This is music to move to. So what better place to start with this band than an LP compiling their must-have demo from 2022 and the remarkably excellent self-titled EP that followed in 2023? Originally released by New York’s increasingly-essential hc label Roachleg Records, these two highly digestible bursts of punk’n’roll complement each other perfectly. Whether you get your giddy thrills from the raw-as-hell likes of opener ‘Suffering’, or from the non-more-anthemic, holy-shit-I-need-to-bang-my-skull-against-the-wall double whammy of ‘Sister Marie’ and ‘Hard Way To Go’, you are guaranteed to find something to love here. You could always try hitting yourself with that plank, but you’ll probably find you return to this more often. Drunken Sailor delivers the goods again. Get the fuck involved." Will Fitzpatrick

[engl] Punter are back with another barrage of rabid and raucous hits. Still seamlessly straddling the line between proto-punk melodies and hardcore aggression but with even more brass and intensity than before. True resentment and hate for a nation combined with a hard working, Dexie-fuelled tour ethic has led Punter to spit out this jacked up bar brawl of an LP that quite honestly could only have been executed by these three Aussie tearaways. This record will equally scratch the itch of any Radio Birdman fan, as it would a Dead Kennedys fan, while being completely relatable for the young punks of today." - Bryan Suddaby

[engl] "More acts of wonder from the land down under - Punter hail from Melbourne and their brand of noise is thrillingly intense. They describe themselves as ‘a hardcore band described as a rock band’, and it’s difficult not to fall in love with a statement like that, especially when it so accurately describes their slalom between all-out axe heroics and to-the-point, in-yer-face-and-then-some punk ferocity. From the intro track’s snarkily deployed job centre answerphone message (“Just say, ‘in Australia, my voice identifies me’”), we’re catapulted straight into the wholly-inaccurately-titled A Minute’s Silence, which rages like Motörhead gargling bleach in the middle of a circle pit. This is likely the moment where you’ll know that your new favourite band is here, and they’re absolutely tearing it up. Punter first appeared in early 2020 thanks to a scorching demo (released on cassette by their hometown label Blow Blood Records), and you sadly don’t have to imagine the shitshow of pandemic, multiple lockdowns and a pressing plant logjam that meant we’ve had to wait til now for a second installment of blazing rifferama, accompanied by that specific vigour that only comes from being very cross indeed. Is there a band out there who’d flush Scott Morrison’s severed head down a toilet while instigating a wall of death around the u-bend? Feels like this lot could be in with a shout. Thrill! To the anthemic hooks and glorious mob shoutalong of Retirement Simulator. Spill! To the guitars piling up like wrecks at a demolition derby on Curfew Eternal. Be fulfilled! By the joy of a very brilliant band being very brilliant at you. This record pulls from a similar formula to their citymates Stiff Richards, but with the ingredients thoroughly fucked about and the proportions changed to the point that any resemblance is minimal at best. By the time the sunny ‘ooohs’ of A Year’s Silence get you thinking of proto-punk UK pub rock, you’ll be ready for more power chords propelled by even more diamond-hard energy - Punter offer all this by the bucketload. Get involved, friends. Get the fuck involved right now." Will Fitzpatrick "G’day, here’s our promo piece. We’re a new band so we gotta write our own, and we won’t bullshit you like we didn’t! Reviewers get in touch: Enter PUNTER, from Melbourne, Australia; three absolute Sick Cunts who have given the best years of their young lives to the creation of their sound, and the broadcast of their observations. All their years in the scene and on the road, playing and listening and talking shit and repeating the process, have culminated in this instant classic. Here, and only here, can we all finally agree on something. And that is because the elements contained within this record amount to tricks and tropes lifted directly from that ubiquitous juke box of punk rock anthems, rock’n’roll hip-shakers and hardcore bangers that are the years 1977 – 82. I’m talking about the real obvious shit right now. The Damned. FEAR. The Buzzcocks. SSD. The Jam. ACDC. The Bad Brains. The Clash. Girl School. Slaughter and The Dogs. And on and on. Good shit you thought you were sick of, that has now been carefully loaded into PUNTER’s slingshot, pulled right the fuck back and aimed squarely at the furious, foreboding and intense sound of the contemporary international DIY hardcore scene from 2012 to present. What has come out is, of course, anything but derivative. PUNTER have gathered for you the best bits from all the shit you thought could never be mates. And mates they now are, through this strangely original sound. Get fired up to this little rip snorter, showcasing all of the outrage, the desperation, the romance, the sass and the sorrow that a punk band can give - lead breaks, backup vocals and all. Let your heart rate rise to these songs of boredom, stress, fear, youth, death, grief, change, and class politics, all set to the backdrop of the emerging global technocracy, blasted at you from the Aussie suburbs, not least of all Melbourne, the most locked down city on the planet during the time of writing and recording. Should do the trick, I’d say.