• 01. My Voice
    02. A Minute's Silence
    03. State Breakfast
    04. Retirement Simulator
    05. Curfew Eternal
    06. A Years Silence



    [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.

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