Smogtown are the most sonically crazed crew of loud’n’lively louts to ever put the punk in the rock! They savagely unleash an A-bomb’s roar of California beachpunk chaos furiously raging with snotty ‘77-style lawlessness. It’s disruptive, unrelenting, hostile, angry, combative, and merciless! The vocalist pugnaciously growls as if his throat has been aggressively dragged across a cheese-grater; the guitar rhythms are explosively similar to the frenetic fretboard flash of Steve Jones with thick, meaty leads sporadically burstin’ forth like the flames of Hell lickin’ the wounded emptiness of a condemned man’s soul; the thunderous torrents of the rumbling out-of-control bass fractured my vertabrae and split my skull straight down the middle; the drums sound like a whirlwind of crumbling bricks smashing to the pavement in the war-torn streets of Nazi Germany. And then there’s the wry lyrical commentary about nightmarish suburban uniformity, an intolerant neighborhood’s violent rejection of leather-clad spikey-haired punk freaks (ala the storyline in “Suburbia”!), obnoxious slamdancing boneheads and the havoc they wreak, a Midwest couple’s cursed quest for the American Dream in California (awww shucks, they only make it as far as Denver, Colorado), fascistic surfer racists, drugs, renegade toiletpaper-tossin’ vandals, and lots more narrative misadventures of the dimwitted, downtrodden, and depraved. Fuck yeh, Smogtown have detonated the ultimate resounding blast of snarlin’ punkrock fury! It just doesn’t develop bigger balls than this.