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DRUNKEN 184EP
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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 skillfully combine the glam rock perfection of Sweet, the '80s 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.
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DRUNKEN 172LP
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Finally, an excuse to dust off the platform boots and denim overalls! New York City's LOOSEY is here with their Winter Promo '23. LOOSEY's sound falls somewhere between the Australian Sharpie scene where pub-rock bands like Coloured Balls and Rose Tattoo reigned supreme, and the Bovver scene from England which preferred the glammier side of rock'n'roll. After the right-on intro "Enter Planet Dust," LOOSEY treats listeners to three earworms that stomp, shimmy, and howl. Check out "There You Were (Alligator Song)" to hear LOOSEY at full-force; beginning with a glam stomp before bulldozing their way into "Exile on Main Street"-era Rolling Stones and even Big Star territory, it's pure bar-room boogie for lovers and fighters alike. This is the dawning of LOOSEY music, get into it!
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DRUNKEN 181LP
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If you feel like motoring down the highway at 100 miles per hour breathing in pure rock n' roll exhaust then look no further -- Rowdy is here to kick out the jams and rev up with their self-titled debut LP. These seasoned rockers are dealing out a heavy dose of song-forward classic garage punk that sounds like a mixed bag of Joan Jett singing for Teengenerate and Roky Erikson and The Aliens covering Oblivions. This is no surprise as Rowdy is formed by members of legendary Austin band Hex Dispensers and Scotland's Goldie Dawn, (Hex Dispensers, major contributors to the Texas garage punk scene). Rowdy's sound runs the gamut with catchy 77 punk tunes like "All in My Head"-- with its huge chorus, anthemic doo-wop tinged songs like "Fine Mystery", and bluesy garage rippers like "Cost Of It". The recording is raw and punchy, dripping with overdriven twangy guitars, a steadfast, tight rhythm section, and blown-out vocals. This record is pure rock n' roll madness! Pop this Rowdy on in your headphones, shotgun a Steel Reserve, and you'll be on your motorcycle doing donuts on your high school principal's lawn in no time.
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DRUNKEN 183LP
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$28.00
PREORDER
RELEASE DATE: 3/7/2025
"Stylistically, the band's roots in more traditionally street-punk and hardcore acts like Ataque Zero and Trampa are apparent from the get go, but tracks like 'Fracaso Molecular' draw upon west coast death rock and early UK peace punk. Hell, even the guitar solos crammed into the bridges of tracks like 'Hoy' speak to this hybridized heritage, connoting d-beat, crossover thrash, and first wave goth rock. Without ever letting the pace drop, 1186 find ways of carrying the mood and gothic atmospherics of deathrock through each of these territories. Like the earliest records by Belgrado and Spectres, Histeria does a fantastic job of zeroing in on what makes deathrock different from either original punk or pure goth, and makes that sense of swaggering doom its focus. But despite its real affinity for the roots of the genre, it never feels like a joyless exercise in neo-traditionalism, and its omnivorous approach to other genres and traditions emerges as one of the most invigorating and refreshing dark rock records you'll hear this year." --IDieYouDie
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DRUNKEN 176LP
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Pittsburgh's feral punks Snarling Dogs return to bite the hand that feeds them with their debut self-titled LP Snarling Dogs. This unhinged offering kicks out 11 revved-up, slobbering 77-esque punk tracks that will have wasted, spikey punks diving into the pit never to return. Songs like "Nothing Left" are charged and chock full of hits sounding like a demented mix of Raw Power era Stooges with the speed and aggression of The Damned or The Dead Boys. The record expands from there with songs like "Hour at a Time" -- a locked in dirgy, psychedelic stroll through crime ridden city streets. From there songs like "Enemy" rip through the void with manic energy- fast, raw and visceral almost stepping into early hardcore territory. While the record has these intense dynamic shifts, Snarling Dogs glue it all together with their cohesive live rock n roll energy. Snarling Dogs is the perfect escape from the mundanity of life. Chug that 40 oz on your lunch break, smoke that entire pack of cigs, and take a piss on your boss's car. There are two dogs in you. Now it's time to set the Snarling Dog free.
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DRUNKEN 173LP
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Montreal five-piece Puffer 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 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.
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DRUNKEN 177LP
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After a debut LP, 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 an 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.
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7"
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DRUNKEN 178EP
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Mere months after releasing their critically acclaimed debut LP Judgement Day, five-piece rock n' roll group The Judges return with a 7" which features two tracks that Judges fans may recognize from their recent concert performances. "Guns", a droning groove-meditation on international arms trafficking, imperialism, war, and the utter uselessness/usefulness of using rock n' roll as a weapon against the establishment that arguably created and fostered its growth. And "(The People Want A) Show", an up-tempo neo proto-punk number thematically concerned with the inherent desire of the undiscerning masses to endlessly consume entertainment media of all kinds, including the aforementioned format of rock n' roll. Both tracks were composed, performed, recorded, and mixed by The Judges.
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DRUNKEN 169LP
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The Unknowns second LP, originally released on Bargain Bin Records in Australia. "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 Sandwich 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 Loude.
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DRUNKEN 165LP
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Please welcome the grand, timely and thoroughly welcome return of Chain Whip. Straight out of the gate, their second full-length Call Of The Knife is absolutely raging. The opening title track might have you squinting at the turntable for a couple of seconds to check that someone hasn't reanimated the young Circle Jerks, but as soon as frontman Josh Nickel's voice kicks in, hardcore cognoscenti will be under no illusions that they could possibly be listening to anyone else. His voice is a righteous, gravelly roar that cuts straight through the noise with the very loose subtext "I'm having a bad day and it's imperative that you know about it." There's a vitality to it that helps make these Vancouver boys one of the best bands in punk today, and it helps that he's backed up by a rattling, rolling collective who remind us all that good old-fashioned hardcore (like the '80s used to make) remains one of the best ideas anyone's ever had. You know what you're getting with song titles like "Class Decay" and "Hatewave," but there's something about the band's garage-slanted take on the genre that makes them a cut above. On this sort of delicious form, no one can touch Chain Whip right now. Form a cult and get obsessed immediately.
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7"
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DRUNKEN 167EP
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Since forming in early 2021, The Prize have established themselves as one of Melbourne's premier rock and roll outfits, funnelling vocal soaked hooks and harmonies through a three guitar onslaught and a pulsating rhythm section. Their unique blend of power pop and rock and roll has earned new fans and followers from all sides of the globe. The Prize's debut EP Wrong Side of Town sold out on the first day of its release and received high praise from the likes of punk legend, Henry Rollins. The band quickly found itself securing plum support slots for bands like the Sunnyboys, Pavement, and King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard. This culminated in a national tour supporting The Chats in late 2022 that has helped to establish them as a premium live act with the tunes to back it up. First Sight, the much anticipated second release from The Prize will be out just in time for the EU/UK tour via Anti Fade Records and Drunken Sailor.
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DRUNKEN 164LP
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"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... 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 favorite '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." --Will Fitzpatrick
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DRUNKEN 117C-LP
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New version/2023 repress on green vinyl. "You'd think Jake Robertson would already have his hands full playing in the likes of Ausmuteants, Leather Towel, School Damage, Drug Sweat, et al. But no, evidently there's always time for one more thoroughly wracked project, and Alien Nosejob's focus is as kaleidoscopically scattershot as you'd expect from a man with such a short attention span. Just to confirm: yes, that's a good thing. From the off, we glide through the Coneheads-style Devocore of 'Television Sets' before romping through the jangling lo-fi pop of 'Weight Of The World', which skips and mopes while making like The Clean setting light to their parents' carpet with a magnifying glass. There's also charmingly scruffy soul-pop, chugging sci-fi slop-punk, straight-up college rock balladry and much, much more. But these aren't sketches or tossed-off genre exercises. They're bona fide works of consummate skill that resonate sincerely and effortlessly. Essentially, each song sounds like a challenge to the one that follows, a cry of 'step the fuck up'; Suddenly Everything Is Twice As Loud is a treasure trove of mini-masterpieces. Rough as fuck mini-masterpieces, sure, recorded with a cheap drum machine and guitars that sound like rusty drills cutting through power cables, but mini-masterpieces nonetheless. When venerable doyens of the pop establishment make albums of such eclectic scope and genuine songwriting talent, they get called geniuses. When punk-as-fuck wiseguys like Robertson pull it off, words like 'maverick' get tossed around. Rest assured, his Alien Nosejob project covers both angles. This second album is an instant classic that deserves to be heard far beyond the underground -- but if it isn't, who cares? He's probably playing in another seven bands already by the time you read this. I've not heard them yet either, but I can tell you they're all fucking amazing. Just buy this record and join the cult." --Will Fitzpatrick
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DRUNKEN 163LP
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Beside You is Body Maintenance's first full-length LP, following a 12" EP and live cassette on guitarist James Kane's own Unwound Records, and a self-released demo cassette. Superficially, their take on brutally noisy sang-froid is the sort of thing that garners lazy comparisons to Joy Division, but more discerning ears will pick out similar sounds like Stockholm's much-missed Holograms, Blitz circa Second Empire Justice and even Italy's modern anarcho heroes A Culture Of Killing. All of which is kind of irrelevant except that it should tell you, o worthy possessor of exquisite taste, that it sounds fucking great and you need to get this band in your ears immediately. Drummer Zoe Mulcahy (also of Jake Robertson's effervescent Alien Nosejob project) may be the secret star of the show, whether lending a glowing pulse to the cold wave-imbued robotica of "Time Enough" or simply wailing hard on album opener "Silver Yarns". Riley Stafford's dispassionate bark also stands out, especially on the driving "It's Theatre", although it's buried deep in the mix, clouded by the wash of guitars and Ella Howells's glacial synths. But let's not get bogged down in individual performances, 'cause this Melbourne quintet are way more than the sum of their parts. The whole is punchy and powerful; the sound pulls you all over the place emotionally -- you can't truly prepare for the way the brooding title track sneaks up on you. It throbs in your brain like an amyl nitrate headache; it rages subtly and smartly while simultaneously indulging and railing against a primitivist instinct to rock out. More simply, it's the soundtrack to your springtime and beyond -- this is the instant classic you've been after, so why waste any more time reading what I've got to say on the matter? Buy it, regret nothing but the shelf space you didn't occupy.
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DRUNKEN 136LP
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Reuben Sawyer is nothing if not prolific. He's also a man of many talents -- his various projects have included the cold wave sounds of The Column, Hollow Sunshine's blown-out psych-noise, Anytime Cowboy's take on countrified weirdo-pop, and even ambient house courtesy of Rose. Oh, and he's a visual artist too, of course. Pfft, who needs an attention span anyway? One thing he's also dabbled in, however, is post-punk. Human Trophy is firmly in line with that tradition, but pulling from multiple directions at once -- the twisting guitar lines and pummeling bass of "Forming Horrors" even call to mind his blackened punk project Dry Insides, but with less velocity and a helluva lot more menace. Is Corpse Dream a goth record? Possibly. Whether goth is a lifestyle choice for Sawyer or not, he's certainly adept at immersing himself in sounds and making them feel like a comfortable fit. As with all his projects, it feels like another effortless facet of Reuben Sawyer -- and in keeping with the rest of his output, it's absolutely packed with songs you'll wanna play again and again. Penultimate track "The Roads" is built on a none-more gloomy pile-up of darkly portentous rhythms and a firm sense of disquiet, but once you're locked into its circular riffage you'll feel an urge to keep the loop going endlessly. Then there's the closer "Blood Apex", a dual-vocal nightmare set to music which draws you back in even as it attempts to push you away.
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DRUNKEN 130LP
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"Ever since Rocket From The Tombs gave way to Pere Ubu and The Dead Boys, Cleveland's been producing endless shots of adrenaline courtesy of the wildest, weirdest sounds around. Knowso may not have much sonically in common with their city's elder statesmen, but they're following in the same spiritual tradition, blasting away with a take on punk rock that's tense, spiky and powerful. Following on from their Look At The Chart 12" for California's premier trash-rock stable Neck Chop, and a 7" for Total Punk, Specialtronics Green Vision is their debut album - and as full-lengths go, it's a helluva first offering. Cuts like 'Calamine' echo the likes of Devo in their jerked-out fury, but whereas there's a whole raft of slopcore bands in recent years who've focused on the other-worldly side of Mothersbaugh and co., Knowso rub their angular tendencies against clenched-teeth riffage and a brutal sense of righteous outrage. The effect is somewhere in between Steve Albini's more pointed rackets, Black Flag in both 'weirdo freakout' and 'perfect slice of fury' modes, and (unexpectedly) even the screwy rhetoric of Welsh wonders Future Of The Left. They have a killer CV -- Knowso boast members of Cruelster, Perverts Again and Cloud Nothings among their line-up -- but still, this is a record that sounds everything and nothing like those bands, with a healthy number of bonus ingredients thrown in. 'Peaceful And Extinct' shows them at their smartarse best, bouncing between (hey, bear with me) tasteful riffology and sheer power, while 'Digital God' is just a heads-down thrill ride. But hey, it's a record full of surprises and wonder, like ice cream topped with barbed wire, and it's one of the best things you'll hear all year. Insert your own 'think so? I knowso' joke here; I'd write one myself but I'm too busy putting this on repeat play for the rest of forever." --Will Fitzpatrick
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DRUNKEN 122LP
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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? Includes members of the Booji Boys? 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 skeptical 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.
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DRUNKEN 142LP
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"You ever wonder what Keith Morris does at the end of the day? Does he maintain that wide-eyed stare, the one that pins audiences to the floor with its very intensity, while he's putting on his pyjamas? Does he continue spitting venom from that heroically ragged throat of his while he's making his cocoa? Does he lay his head on his pillow with the same righteous fury that launched thousands upon thousands of moshpits? Hey, I'm just wondering. Y'see, all that intensity and venom and fury? it has to go somewhere while he's otherwise occupied with mundane tasks like taking off his socks or brushing his teeth, right? And listening to the thrilling racket conjured up by Vancouver's Chain Whip, you'd be forgiven for thinking that they have somehow become vessels for that energy. I mean, they're Morris' spiritual successors -- if their 2019 debut 14 Lashes wasn't enough of a clue, then this six-song blast of blink-and-you'll-miss-it brilliance should leave you in no doubt. This is hardcore punk as it was originally conceived, and it slays. 'But who are Chain Whip?' I hear you ask. Well, they're a bunch of dudes from British Columbia who've also served time in bands like The Jolts, Fashionism and Corner Boys (among others). They're the ones who are gonna have you slashing the seats at your local cinema, or taking potshots at lines of empty bottles on street corners, cuz they make you feel so damn tuff. OK, I'm just goofing around here -- whereas Chain Whip are serious business. No, really. I dare you to listen to the Germs-go-nuclear b(')last of 'Laguna Bleach', or the garage-slop-at-200-mph rush of 'Fresh Paint And Philanthropy', and not want to launch a stink bomb into your teacher's car. Or, failing that, to bring about the extinction of global capitalism. If that fails, you'll just end up wearing out the grooves of this very fine six-song EP while bouncing between walls like the DRI logo guy if he wore jet heels and spring-loaded shoulder pads. Jeez, imagine Keith finishing the night shift and giving these guys a handover. As if they'd even need to be told. Look, Chain Whip are the best straight-up old-skool punk band you'll hear today. You know what to do. Trust your instincts. Dance that two-step to hell with 'em. This. Is. The. Shit." --Will Fitzpatrick
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DRUNKEN 140LP
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All caught up with last 2020's blast of herky-jerky darkness from Knowso? Don't get too comfy, now -- nine months later, they're back with another eight hits of visceral smarts and discombobulating fury. Sounding, as ever, like Big Black firing pellets of snot at their Cleveland forebears Devo, Rare Auld Trip/Psychological Garden finds them picking up where they left off with Specialtronics Green Vision (DRUNKEN 130LP). This being the best part of a year on from that excellent debut, though, they sound wiser, snarkier and more pissed off than ever before -- good news all round, then. Opener "Boredom In The Valley" reintroduces their signature tricks but feels more focused; a sub-two minute blast of staggered beats powered by the gnarliest-sounding bass this side of Bob Weston, and a disaffected vocal styling that you'd be tempted to call nihilist if you couldn't sense the number of fucks given beneath the impassive facade. They pick up the pace with "Staring At The Spiral", which almost sounds like the Buzzcocks unravelling at the seams while a Vogon watches on, before crashing into the smash'n'grab antics of "The Plants" -- one of the record's clear highlights and a frantic, dizzying trip. Along the way are enough bon mots and smartarse quips too make you wonder if they're taking this as seriously as they should. Let's not spoil the highlights in advance, but if you're already on board with Knowso, you'll know they're simultaneously utterly hilarious and unquestionably, deadly serious. "I could never be friends with a fucker such as you," they snarl disgustedly on another of the record's instant classics, but by this point you'll already have given your heart over to this most delirious of post-punk/noise-rock hybrids. As the closing cacophony of voices on "4th Wonder" will no doubt drive into your brain with overwhelming force, Rare Auld Trip/Psychological Garden (you pays your money and you takes your choice with the title, presumably) is not to be missed.
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DRUNKEN 141LP
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Imagine a world where The Saints held onto the raw-throated, full-throttle rock n' roll of their mighty first three albums. Where Radio Birdman are rightly held up as one of the all-time great bands. Where the Wipers never left the driving punk rock of Is This Real? behind for the post-kraut-psych-whatever of the (admittedly still totally ragin') Youth Of America, and simply kickstarted a revolution. That's the sort of reality where Jackson Reid Briggs & The Heaters would be best appreciated. Where driving rhythms, crunching power chords and the sound of a man howling "you're gonna get eaten alive" are the adrenaline-pumping soundtrack to the everyday. Where an album like Waiting In A Corner is heralded as a goddamn classic upon arrival, and worshipped as a vital instrument in setting souls on fire and lifting spirits everywhere. Where... aww, you get the idea. Because Melbourne-based Briggs and his thrillingly rambunctious collective have made one of those albums -- their fifth -- where all you can do is play it over and over, thrilling to the ordered chaos of songs like "Too Many Years" while swooning to the anthemic likes of "If You Only Knew". There are some types of music that Australia just does better. Garage? Punk? Yeah, something like that. Waiting In A Corner is the latest example, and holy fuck, it's an instant wonder. If only rock n' roll could always be this good.
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DRUNKEN 134LP
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2025 repress on blue vinyl. "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 barreling 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 center 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." --Will Fitzpatrick
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DRUNKEN 114LP
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Gino and the Goons are back. Led by Gino Bambino, the Goons play rowdy punk rock that holds up its pint to the Ramones, Chuck Berry, Willie Nelson, Nervous Eaters, and Motorhead. It sounds like being in the middle of a really tense house party. Ten songs to dance, drink, fight, and breakdown to. With records on Slovenly, Total Punk, Red Lounge, etc, Drunken Sailor release their 4th (5th??!!) long player. "This, my friends, is the rock n' roll you never stopped believing in! If these songs don't move you to dance, shout in delight, get feisty with your significant other, and perhaps break some minor laws, you are surely beyond helping. No existing band has a better grasp on how to create punk rock n' roll music that ticks every imaginable box."
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DRUNKEN 116LP
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Everyone's favorite 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 power-pop 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?
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7"
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DRUNKEN 125EP
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"There's a parallel universe out there somewhere, one where Poison Idea's 'Pick Your King', Gang Green's 'Sold Out' and Negative Approach's 'Tied Down' are sacred texts and all art is merely an attempt to bow down and pay tribute to their holy genius. In this universe, Richmond, VA's Cement Shoes will be truly worshipped as the heroes they deserve to be -- this triple shot of hits is a perfect piece of punk in that lineage. 'Smashed on Glass' opens with a gloriously farty synth replicating the Universal Pictures movie fanfare, setting us up perfectly for the scraped-knuckle joy to follow. It's a two-minute thrill ride of high-speed aggression, bludgeoning guitars and vocals that sound like singer Trevor's larynx has been wrapped up in barbed wire, crushed with a steam roller and then coaxed back to life by vigorous brushing with wire wool. You know, all that fun stuff. It's followed by the brilliantly titled 'Knocked Into The Reptile Enclosure', which continues their sonic assault with gusto as Trev roars into life with a 'bababababa' that sounds like The Trashmen falling into a vat of toxic waste -- perfect for hollering back from beer-drunk mosh pits, or simply for turning up to maximum volume, annihilating all goodwill with your neighbors and earning yourself a tidy warning from The Man. But fuck that guy. By comparison, 'Going Off The Grid' is more restrained, but it's still wild as all hell, pulsating with menace and invention as guitarist Brandon leads the band down a series of dark roads, seemingly blind alleys and secret escape routes. It might just be the best song of the set, but shhh! Don't tell the others. The record is subtitled A Love Story Of Drugs & Rock & Roll & Drugs, which sounds straightforward enough. If you can pierce through the rollicking scree to find that story, you'll be screaming along at the walls for the rest of time. Either way, this is a great piece of old skool hardcore -- perfect for honing that tinnitus you've been working on all these years." --Will Fitzpatrick
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DRUNKEN 120LP
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Classic Midwest punk Devo influence, but with a "new-new wave" sound that's been coming out of California and Saint Louis. If you heard Erik Nervous's mighty 2018 collection Assorted Anxieties, you probably thought you had his sound pegged. Bruce Gilbert power chords, rickety garage skronk, and a willful 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 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. It's still recognizably 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.
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