[engl] Debut album from this consistently brilliant punk rock super-group! Featuring members of The Leif Ericsson and The Great St. Louis, Stay Clean Jolene's pedigree speaks for itself. It should therefore come as no surprise to learn that their debut, self-titled, album is a masterclass in how to pen perfect, anthemic, heart-on-sleeve punk-rock in 2014. While many bands of this ilk are more concerned with what's going on across the pond at the latest Fest than with the rich legacy of homegrown legends like Leatherface and Snuff, SCJ play homage to the UKs finest while building on the incredible foundation of their previous bands output to produce an album greater than the sum of it's parts. From the stomping opener, "Concrete Block" to the already classic "Record" (a song featured on the bands' debut 7" but re-recorded here), this is an album that rushes headlong, beginning to end, with a sense of confidence you seldom here these days. These 4 lads know exactly what they're doing and Stay Clean Jolene is the breathtaking result. At the end of the day, it's an album so good that labels like Dead Broke, Drunken Sailor, Eager Beaver (all releasing the vinyl version) and co-releasers of the CD, Just Say No To Government Music, jumped on board without a moments hesitation.

[engl] Funny to think there was a time not so long ago when Stiff Richards was a name that required explanation - but not to you, of course, o punk connoisseur. This is your territory, after all. Music is your oxygen and the sound of the underground is your clarion call. You can explain the distinction between ‘Know Your Product’ and ‘No, You’re Product’. Hey, you’re probably pretty good-looking too. You know your shit, either way. So no wonder you’re drawn to this relative holy grail of modern garage rock - the 2017 self-titled debut album by the aforementioned Stiff Richards. Originally released on their own Stiff Records (and again by Legless in 2020), it lays down all the elements that made last year’s mighty ‘State of Mind’ LP such an instant classic. OK, we’ve established you know the drill, but let’s recap: scintillating Aus-punk that recalls the heroic high-speed riffs of their countrymen The Saints and Radio Birdman. It sounds like Royal Headache covering Motörhead, or maybe the other way around. It’s a full-on riot in 30 minutes - the rawest of rock’n’roll bleeding into the grimiest of power chords with hooks for days. You already know you’re gonna love it. Whether going full-throttle and aiming straight for the nerve receptors that get your head a-nodding and your toes a-tapping - like on sub-three-minute highlight ‘Strung Out’ - or sludgin’ their way through groovier cuts like ‘Bustin’ Out’, they’re never less than a treat that’s guaranteed to get your serotonin flowing and your speakers up to 11 (or beyond). As a certain similarly-named record label once said, if it ain’t Stiff, it ain’t worth a fuck. Frightfully rude, but that’s rock music for you, I suppose. Get it in your ears.

[engl] First things first - you don’t need me to tell you about the significance of Australia in the history of punk. I mean, what am I, Jon Savage? Google it yourself, FFS. Instead, let’s just agree that the speedy, feral racket thrown together by the likes of The Saints, Radio Birdman and The Scientists in the mid-late ‘70s is AT LEAST as deliriously entertaining as anything concocted by their UK/US counterparts, sowing the seeds for seemingly endless garage-inflected noisemakers in the land down under. No one likes using words like ‘tradition’ or ‘heritage’ here - the punk rock clusterbomb is far too messy for any of that business - but also emerging from Australian rock’s primordial soup is the addictive sneer of Stiff Richards. Like their predecessors, the band are a gleefully wracked mess of full throttle energy and barrelling power chords, with songs like ‘Kids Out On The Grass’ and ‘Point of You’ proving at least the equal of ‘(I’m) Stranded’ or ‘Aloha Steve And Danno’. Nine tracks in less than 30 minutes, all winners and all determined to leave you flipping over couches and smashing your TV set. And let’s face it, you may as well; there’s nothing good on. It all builds towards frantic closer ‘Fill In The Blanks’, which rattles around your speakers like the UK Subs trying to play Ed Kuepper riffs at the centre of an earthquake, before grinding to a halt as a voice says, “That’s the one.” Does it sound self-satisfied? Hey, it’s got good reason to - this is the best no-frills garage rock party since Gino & The Goons’ ‘Do The Get Around’, and the only appropriate response is to declare yourself betrothed to Stiff Richards because you can’t imagine your life without ‘em. Don’t believe me? Sort out your ears and get ‘State Of Mind’ in ‘em. Rock’n’roll as it’s supposed to be played.

[engl] We’re all familiar with Seven Minutes in Heaven, right? It’s some sort of weird kissing game that cinema informs me was played by the cool kids at parties. You know, the sort of normie party you weren’t invited to, leaving you to sit at home, listening to the Misfits and scrawling Dead Kennedys logos over any and every available surface. Where are those kids now? Dunno, doing some boring job, I guess. Whatever. ‘Seven minutes in heaven’ is also a pretty apt description of the new EP by Detroit punx The Stools - the four songs that make up ‘Feelin’ Fine’ are over before you’ve had chance to blink, but hot damn, they’re good. They call themselves a ‘bluesy punk trio’, and fair enough - like their hometown forebears the MC5, they take the raw tools of rock’n’roll and dial up the speed, the intensity and the fury, resulting in a record that commands your attention, your adrenaline and your utter devotion. Like their 2018 album ‘Q-Nails’, ‘Feelin’ Fine’ sashays in with a loose-hipped swagger and an audible commitment to getting your feet flying every which way, but this time they’ve had a relatively hi-fi makeover - opener ‘Can’t Feel Good’ is yer classic show-opener, going from a flurry of chords and cymbal wash into an ear-catching riff and bone-crunching rhythm section. Like X’s ‘Los Angeles’ as played by speed-addled 20-stone wrestlers, it mesmerises as much as it pulverises, while the joyously dumb ‘Rockpile’ might well be the most aggressive tribute to Nick Lowe’s old band. Or maybe not; it’s hard to make out the lyrics while I’m bouncing off the walls. Punkest use of slide guitar since The Gun Club? Sure, why not? It slays, I can tell you that much. All you really need to know is that The Stools rule, and you need this record.

[engl] You can file this one in your mental record bin next to VOM, the Angry Samoans, the Reatards, the Chats (their singer makes an appearance here.), and the Gizmos (my 70s teen band). Y’know, punk-rock with garage guffaws wrapped up in the mix real good. You will find neither grim hardcore nor retro fashion show here. The title track “Good Boy, Bad Boy” reminds me of the Panics, the Bloomington, Indiana punk band after the Gizmos in the early 80s.It’s the aggressive nasal sneer that’s been a mainstay of punktitude since at least Question Mark and Sky Saxon circa 1966. But it’s the opening track “I Wanna Be You” that sounds like the single to me—snarling power-poppy punk with an inverted ironic warning against envy. “Nature Man” is another winner. Is it a modern answer song to the Eden Ahbez/Nat King Cole standard “Nature Boy”? To me, it is! Is there a big Spanish-speaking community in Sudbury? Coz there’s also a song called “Destruye Todo” that takes a mere 24 seconds to “destroy everything.” “Don’t Waste My Time” sounds like a good follow-up to should-be-a-hit-single “I Wanna Be You,” another catchy punker that could be an anthem if anybody was singing along. How about you? Maybe this one? The Chats singer shows up on “Warm Piss.” Yep, you can hear his beer-sodden Oz vocal trading barbs with Jeff’s nasal whine. And there’s more! 18 tracks total! Yay! I got very burned out on punk and garage rockisms in the late 80s. Jazz, noise, and improv turned me on. Hip hop became rock. But my post-2014 Gizmos comeback years perfectly dovetailed with a new generation of punkers who somehow don’t sound tired or full of crap. Who woulda thunk it could NOT suck in this third stupid decade of the 21st Century? Cheers!

[engl] Less Devo-lved than some of their other projects, The Fritz nonetheless deliver the goods you’ll wanna hear: lo-fi ragers, garage schlock, hi-speed songs that barely break the minute mark before they collapse under the weight of the spittle that’s gathered in the corners of their frothing mouths. This is the manic energy of dudes that are too smart or too dumb or both, and it’ll make you wanna head to Indiana immediately so you can scream at ‘em to play and play and play until you or they can take no more. The Damned dancing on a circular saw? Booji Boys writing hoax hostage notes to their own parents? The contents of your own rotten soul, drunk and pissed-off and hilarious and brilliant at 45rpm? The Fritz may remind you of all these things. Mostly, they are likely to remind you of why you fell in love with railing against the world in the first place, and they’ll shred your speakers while they do so. Now let’s go spraypaint their name on the town hall before the cops come.

[engl] Ready for the most frantic’n’furious 13 minutes you’ll hear all year? Good job - The Hell hail from Norfolk County, Cleveland, and their self-titled debut album is a teeth-rattlingly excellent slab of hardcore punk; probably the best since… ooh, I dunno. Bootlicker? Slant? Judy & The Jerks? Chain Whip? Like all of those records, it’s a trip back to the glory days of hardcore - arguably several periods that could fit under that term - and it’s relentlessly, almost heroically great. Ten songs fly by before you’ve even had the chance to fully process anything beyond a general sensation best summed up with the word/sound/guttural exhalation ‘WHOAAAA’. The best bit? Each and every one of them totally fucking rips. You’ll hear flashes of everything you love etched into these grooves: the raucous chaos of the Kings of Punk themselves, Poison Idea; the SoCal brattiness and garagey schlock of TSOL, Angry Samoans and/or Circle Jerks when they were all getting started; the speed, breakdowns and temper tantrums of NYHC before all that heavy metal stuff got involved… But of course you didn’t come here for a catalogue of soundalikes, you came here to get your ears melting and your synapses pulsating til they’re spinning like an angle grinder against the inside of your skull. Right? Well, that’s why I’m here anyway. And lemme tell ya, this delivers on that front: The Hell are their own beast, un-peg-down-able by mere reference points and speculation as to possible influences. Let’s just agree that they’ve absorbed all of it and made a sound that’s recognisable but wholly their own. Which is to say: you’ll dig it. You want context? Hell, I’ll give ya context. The Hell feature ex-members of former Lumpy faves Cruelster, Sorry State nihilists Woodstock 99 and D-beat aggro types Hysteria, among others. Maybe that list gives you a firmer picture of where they’re coming from; maybe you read it and nodded politely, making furious mental notes to check ‘em all out when you get five minutes (and you really, really should). But let’s face it - in the here and now, all this detail is ephemera. What matters is this record. Don’t make me type out a hackneyed quip about the devil having all the best tunes (gahhh, too late), or the road to The Hell being paved with good intentions (booooooo). Just do what’s only right and proper in the circumstances, and get the fuck involved. This ludicrously short and effortlessly brilliant record demands it.

[engl] Some cities just know how to produce bands by the bucketload. Take Detroit, for instance: we don’t need to rattle through a full list or anything, but safe to say that if your town has given the world the likes of Motown, Derrick May and J Dilla - before we even start to think about The Stooges et al - then you could be forgiven for thinking there must be something in the water round those parts. So whaddya say? Should we get to know two more fine exponents of melodic wonder from the Motor City? Only seems fair. This split LP between citymates The Stools and Toeheads certainly isn’t a letdown as far as the illustrious company of their forebears goes. In fact, it’s a fast-paced thrill ride that oscillates between hip-shaking rock’n’roll swing and bone-shaking hardcore energy. You might already be familiar with The Stools thanks to their ludicrously addictive Feelin’ Fine 7”, which dropped via Drunken Sailor (hey, those guys sound familiar…) early in 2021. If you though that short EP was a good time, wait ‘til you see what they’ve got in store here: right out of the gate, opener Dead Man’s Ford smashes the devil-toed boogie of the MC5 at their slinkiest into the teeth-clenched intensity of Negative Approach (and that’s a pretty decent John Brannon-style roar they deliver too). They maintain this quality and velocity across their side, which is brilliant. There’s no let-up from Toeheads either - their side of this split sounds like someone revved up The Gun Club and aimed fireworks inside their exhaust. This is the sound you always knew you were working towards when you got into this rock’n’roll business; guitars blazing, lungs bursting, a wall of sound collapsing while we all dance in the debris. Does it sound like anything new? Fuck no, but that’s not the point. Much like The Stools, there’s nothing you can say about Toeheads that can’t be summarised with the phrase ‘total exhilaration’. So there you have it. Another compelling case for Detroit as home to the finest sounds around, put forth by two young bands who make playing loud, fast and dumb sound easy. Call it conviction, call it chutzpah… hell, call it talent if you want, I ain’t gonna stop you. But chiefly, call it a fucking good time and put the damn record on. This slays.

[engl] Split 7" from Canadians UNFUN and Despite Everything from Greece Unfun are back with two new songs that’ll blow you away. Right-out-of-the-gutter sludgy, dirty pop punk from the piss-smelling alleys of Vancouver, Canada. Hailing from Athens, Greece, I present you Despite Everything. Straight from the streets pissed-off punkrock that will make you want to go out and throw a Molotov cocktail at your local McDonald restaurant. Two great punk anthems that will make you crave for more.

[engl] "There have already been some monster LPs released in 2023, and the sophomore album from The Unknowns just might be the best of the lot. The Brisbane-based then-trio released one of the greatest punk albums of the roaring twenties (so far) with Nothing Will Ever Stop back in late 2020. Now a foursome following the addition of The Chats' Eamon Sandwith on guitar, The Unknowns have returned with an even better follow-up. East Coast Low manages to take most of the musical genres I hold dear and mash them together in the most delightful way. Basically the sound is classic punk rock with a ton of energy and catchy tunes (what else would you expect from Australia?). Yet at the same time, this album aligns beautifully with modern-day garage punk, power pop, and straight-up rock n' roll. East Coast Low packs ten tracks of punchy sing-along punk rock into 23 and a half minutes of pure fun. Songs like "Dianne," "Rid of You," "Thinking About You," and "I Don't Know" prove once again that there's a certain kind of itch that only old school punk rock n' roll can scratch. These guys are doing nothing new. But man, they do it so freaking well! If we're talking about the cream of the contemporary Aussie punk crop, The Unknowns have earned a place in the conversation." Josh/ Faster and Louder

[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. Aincha just sick of being promised a horrible, gnarly noise and getting a whole load of polished, whiny pop-rock instead? Fear not, there are no such concerns with Urochromes. These guys know their Touch & Go from their SST; their Scratch Acid from their Flipper; their mutilated guitar rifferama from their serrated musical bludgeoning. The Beat Sessions crams the sounds of your favourite pigfuck bands into a winningly ostentatious collision of pre-programmed drums and manic rawkundrol lunacy. Like all the best punk collectives, they know brevity is key and so no song even gets within spitting distance of two minutes long. Likewise they know this whole ‘rock music’ thing is a scam so we may as well all play along with gusto, leaving you with a record you’ll play over and over and over until your stereo gives out (or your bony, malnourished fingers finally snap with the repeated effort).

[engl] Candy Waves," like any effective pop-punk song, sounds at first pass like it was banged out in a bored fit of post-study-hall pique, but once it settles, you begin to notice sneaky details filling out the song's primary-color pound: the bursts of background vocals, the guitar squalls, and the little piano lick riding up the vocal line.

[engl] The best rock’n’roll doesn’t faff about. It gets straight in there and gets shit done. This is an ethos Vanilla Poppers seem to have taken to heart – formed the very day Melbourne-hailing singer Christina Pap arrived in the town of Cleveland, Ohio, they’re a pointed blast of too-busy-to-give-a-fuck rawness and vital urgency. Punk rock doing what punk rock does best, basically: getting to the point with noise and purpose, leaving your dazed but exhilarated ears to pick up the pieces afterwards. Their I Like Your Band 7” is a testament to that – never less than scintillating, at least partially thanks to garage-soaked riffs that are never less than heroically, bottom-shakingly addictive. You’ll wish you’d thought of the hook to opening track Get Away From Me, even as it makes you wanna regress to a primal state and do dumb stuff like chew on broken glass to see how long it takes you to bleed. In fact, Rocket From The Crypt would be proud of most of the guitar work on display here, although with Pap on hand to dispense her proclamations via a hardcore holler, it’s plain to see they’re making their own mark rather than walking in anyone else’s shadow. Tired of the same old three-chord stodge? Need a palette cleanser to wash away the taste of so much stale punk? Vanilla Poppers are the perfect solution; a spittle-flecked rush of blood to the head that’ll remind you why you fell in love with this music in the first place. Meet your new heroes. Will Fitzpatrick.

[engl] Brand new 7" from 'Bay Area Punks, Violence Creeps, after an 12" on Total Punk, a recent LP and a bunch of demos, here we have four songs, alternate version of 'Sex Dwarf off the Total Punk 12", a couple of songs that appeared on the demo tapes and a brand new song. Violence Creeps are raw, destructive, fucked off and in your face. Reminding me in parts, Flipper and Black Flag but WAY angrier. This is the sound of your summer on fire.

[engl] Wonk Unit were formed several years ago by Alex Johnson, formerly of The Flying Medallions, I’m told they began as a performance art project, essentially a vehicle for vocalist Alex. Alex Johnson is a one off. He provokes reaction. Poet, songwriter, performer, "tourtured soul", there isn't much that life hasn't already thrown at him. Wonk Unit have released several albums on CD and become one of the hardest working bands in the UK, playing countless gigs (I mean, they even have their own festival, Wonk Fest!). An obvious reference point would be Snuff (hell, Duncan Redmonds even plays on some songs and occasionally drums for them live), with the perfect UK pop- punk sound, organ and horns. Wonk Unit are much more than that though, with songs that are fun, energetic, heartfelt, thought provoking, angry, hilarious, exciting and catchy as fuck. Never afraid to push boundaries, whilst having a sound born out of Snuff/ Wat Tyler/ China Drum, they still have an originality that makes them unique. With songs chosen by the band, Johanns Face and Drunken Sailor and taken from the albums 'Trolleys, Muffy, Nervous Racehorse and a couple of exclusive songs, we think it is the perfect introduction to one of the best UK bands.

[engl] After touring together last year in the US, what else are Wonk Unit (UK) and Raging Nathans (US) gonna do. Release a split 7" of course. Raging Nathans play some of the best 'Lookout kinda Pop-Punk, hailing from Dayton, Ohio. You want three chord, melodic, bangers? Here you go. Some genius once said "Listening to The Raging Nathans is like having a handful of cold ones, and going on a tubin’ trip to the river, to provide a nice respite from the summer heat." Yeah, I'd go with that. Wonk Unit, original, totally unique, off the wall craziness. Wonk Unit are much more than that though, with songs that are fun, energetic, heartfelt, thought provoking, angry, hilarious, exciting and catchy as fuck. Never afraid to push boundaries, whilst having a sound born out of Snuff/ Wat Tyler/ China Drum, they still have an originality that makes them unique.

[engl] If ever a band were to wear their influences firmly on their sleeves, in bright glowing colours that could be seen from miles away regardless of the weather conditions, then it would be the Young Leaves. It doesn't take long to ascertain what those influences are, either by listening to their music or by visiting their Facebook page, which unashamedly name-checks the bands that come to mind having placed the needle on this LP. Some people are firmly against the revisiting of any sort of sound from the past as they constantly seek something new to listen to, and I occasionally hear something that has me bemoaning the idea that “This has been done before and by so many bands, so please move on.” On the other hand, though, you will sometimes listen to a band who are paying homage to a sound, a band or a genre and think, “Yes, this is a job well done.” I guess the problem is, it’s hard for the band to get that balance right and to make music that can sound as if it’s got something fresh to offer. The Young Leaves, a trio from Massachusetts, get the job well done by sounding as if they really should have been playing alongside bands such as Dinosaur Jr., Buffalo Tom and Jawbreaker, as well as all of the other indie rock bands that were popular way back in the mid-to-late 1980s. I liked a lot of that stuff back then but haven’t listened to many of the bands in a few years, so hearing Life Underneath is a really enjoyable experience. The one "modern" band that comes to mind when playing this is Dan Webb and the Spiders, and on looking at the Young Leaves’ Facebook page it’s no surprise to see these two bands playing together in the near future. The songs have hooks aplenty, with the guitars based around that slightly fuzzed sound of yesteryear (I’m no guitar tech, so the myriad of guitar pedals that could possibly have been used here are beyond me) that has a warming quality to it—almost like someone wrapping their arms around you and immediately creating a glow inside that heats your body from the inside. Vocally, it’s really got a deep kind of J Mascis quality going on—again, one of the key elements that is able to warm the cockles of your heart when listening to this. The quality is constant throughout and the band do a grand job of recreating and creating music like that many of us grew up listening to and that influenced many who heard it to take up arms themselves. Hats off to the Young Leaves and also to Drunken Sailor Records for releasing this fine piece of work (which features great cover art, too).

[engl] Zero Zero: a sadly unlamented 1990s anthology comic series published by Fantagraphics, which published some of the most batshit underground cartoonists of the time, as well as some of the smartest satirists and grossest gross-out artists. It was briefly incredible; it stopped before it ran out of steam; it was punk as fuck. Zero Zeroes: just one of those ungoogleable band names, scuppered a tad by the existence of Californian ‘70s punkas The Zeroes. But this German band are definitely their own beast - OK, there are touches of San Diego legend John Reis in their DNA (the garage-centric power chords are pure Rocket From The Crypt; the relentless drive of the guitars calls to mind the wild focus of Hot Snakes), but they’re here to make a racket their own way, and it’s scintillating. So why mention the comic? Well, aside from the similarity in the names, there’s something about this gleefully menacing racket that just feels like it draws from the same well; equal parts smart, serious, cartoonish, and drawn to a devilish sense of reckless abandon that you’ll only find if you really know where to look for it. Whether making fist-clenching punk anthems from unsolved murder cases (as they do on the rollicking ‘Tamam Shud’) or simply slapping you in the face with killer riffage and even better tunes (‘Mouth Full Of Snakes’, ‘Dark Thoughts’... actually pretty much every cut here), they’re here to make you surrender to that sweet sweet rock’n’roll. Not to labour the point about what a crappy year 2020’s been, but thanks to… well, you-know-what, I think we could all do with a bit of that in our lives right now, huh?