WHO ARE THEY? A Texas punk quartet that recently pulled up stakes and relocated from Austin to the Big Apple — all the better to feel downtrodden, one assumes.
WHAT IS THIS? Their third and most focused collection of surging power-chord riffs, crash-bash cardboard-box drums and guttersnipe vocals excoriating everyone from banks and politicians to fascists to neo-liberals. So at least they’re equal opportunity offenders.
WHAT DOES IT SOUND LIKE? The audio equivalent of the toilet stalls at CBGB back in the day.
HOW SHOULD I LISTEN TO IT? While riding public transit — after jumping the turnstile, of course — and spitting at anyone in an expensive suit.
WHAT 10 WORDS DESCRIBE IT? Angry, topical, intense, taut, underproduced, raucous, unvarnished, cathartic, distorted, brash.
WHAT ARE THE BEST SONGS? M.P.S., Mon Cherie, Roll Music and Fooled Again have enough swagger and attitude to escape the pogo-punk ghetto.
WHAT WILL MY FRIENDS AND FAMILY THINK? That somebody should buy these guys some time in a real studio.
HOW OFTEN WILL I LISTEN TO THIS? Every time you need to vent about the latest political outrage. So, probably a lot.
IF THIS ALBUM WERE A PIECE OF STEREO GEAR, WHAT WOULD IT BE? A broken boombox in a pawn shop.
SHOULD I BUY, STREAM OR STEAL? It really seems like they should want you to steal it.
