There is a long-standing tradition in punk rock known as the “fuck” band—bands thrown together, often based on a certain theme or joke that plays for little more than shits ‘n’ giggles or to annoy the fuck out of as many people as possible. Some become relatively well-known institutions—Me First And The Gimme Gimees comes to mind—some come and go in the blink of an eye, and some are actually quite good. The central conceit of Arizona’s Father’s Day seems to be based on voicing the concerns, frustrations, and woes of the average suburban paternal figure… if he either existed pre-1989 or looked too eagerly to Ward Cleaver for guidance. The gamut of that type of parent’s nightmares—gay sons, promiscuous daughters, a wife that doesn’t know her place, failed vacations, and so on—are given a run-through set to largely hardcore trappings at varying tempos, with That’s It! being the harder and faster of the two. While some of the stuff here might give the passing listener pause, those that get the joke will appreciate the effort put in here. –Jimmy Alvarado (Related)