I’ll admit that when I saw this was on Hellcat, my underwear bunched up on me a little bit. But when I looked at the back cover and saw all the skeletons, I got my hopes up. I thought maybe it would end up being some decent, Misfits-y schlock punk; something obviously derivative, but certainly listenable—like Bobby Steele’s Undead. Was I off! The skeletons on the back cover are the only thing Misfits-y about these guys. No one’s hairdo in this band is anything close to a devilock. These are loud ‘n’ proud skinheads who play weightlifting street punk with a singer who sounds like a pro wrassler in a cranky mood. They prefer to call themselves “short haired rock-n-roll.” I’m sure these guys would probably beat me into jelly with baseball bats if they ever saw those old pictures of me with Robert Plant hair, but I like them anyway. Like so many bands from this particular subgenre, this is meaty and menacing and just plain hard not to like, in spite of it’s cartoony, pitbull-like earnestness.