Stale, bland, and boring sounds leave me expressionless and emotionless. I’d rather bang my head against a wall than listen to this. I want this record to stop so badly, I would chop off my own arm for it to end. Recycled garbage of “punk” and “oi” bands I’ve heard a thousand times, over and over, disguised under the name of The Bruisers, packaged and neatly pressed into grooves that play over nine minutes of absolute hell—and no, not the fun hell everyone dreams of with satan, fellow queers and weirds, with an endless flow booze we all like to imagine. After the first track, I become numb, and the feeling of extreme nihilism washes over me whilst trying to listen to this; believe in nothing, feel…nothing. Static in my brain, desperately searching for a channel to connect to, but, alas, only distain and disinterest.
–Genevieve Armstrong (Chapter 11, Chapterelevenrecords.com)