I was gonna be a smartass and badmouth this just ‘cause they were local boys, and there’s nothing we punkers from the ‘hood like to do more than cap on each other for shits ‘n’ giggles, but I just can’t quite bring myself to do it. Not because I’m incapable of doing it, mind you, ‘cause I could swear a blue streak about damn near anything if I had the gumption, as evidenced numerous times over the course of this mag’s existence, but because it’s good. Really good. We’re talking “boy, them elitist Hollywood fucks would’ve been green with envy had this come out in ‘77” kinda good. The lyrics and hooks are kept simple, the THUD factor is upped exponentially and the attitude is cranked to eleven, resulting in some kick-ass tunes sure to spoil your mama’s quinceañera. Even more impressive is that they’ve managed to pack nine tunes on a seven-inch, and these are not short songs, mind you. Of course, I’m gonna call ‘em and tell ‘em this wasn’t bad for a group of tone-deaf amputees with more Justin Timberlake singles in their collection than most people should legally own, but, just between you and me, this is probably thee best record I’ve heard in quite a while.
–jimmy ([email protected])