Blending hardcore and street punk with songs about the usual heartache of being a low-life. This isn’t horrible, but it doesn’t really have much originality and the drummer misses a beat here and there. They thank the punks and skins, which takes me back to my early punk rock days, except in those days, a lot of the skins were stupid Nazi fucks in Georgia. In this day and age of senseless war and consumer overdrive, these guys are still talking about the same unity. I agree, but the message comes off as defeatist and yesterday’s skins are today’s jarheads, which scares the shit out of me. P.S. Never write lyrics about Ben Sherman shirts and Fred Perry vests. It comes off like fashion punk bullshit. Read a book.

 –buttertooth (Self-released)