Yeah, I know, making DIY punk music’s hard and its benefits sometime get fuckin’ lost in being scraped down to nubs, but it’s bands like the Hidden Spots that reveal one of its secret weapons: strong-ass regionalism (not necessarily by geography). You see, there are these eddies of groups of bands around the world that continually morph and continue to rule, like The Riverboat Gamblers/High Tension Wires/ Marked Men/ Potential Johns brain trust and Sexy/ Chickenhead/ ADD/C/ Future Virgins/ Horrible Odds/ Hidden Spots think tank. I don’t want to say “geographically,” because folks move, but stay in contact, and the music strain’s in ‘em, regardless of what type of dirt’s underneath their feet. These family trees retain that nice, solid, oaky essence through all the bands, but each one is as distinct as the veins in a leaf. Enough of the tree hugging. The Hidden Spots take that unshakable earnestness of The Jack Palance Band (and the same voice: Mike Pack)—catchy, but not too sweet, with little flourishes that reveal themselves after repeated listens—along with the rumble of Leatherface to churn out four songs that light a new spark.