Furious anarcho punk from London that refuses to be neatly filed away in a single genre crate, which is always the most thrilling kind of punk shit anyway. Recorded at New York's D4MT Labs, this does indeed share some of the hallmarks of that particular place's most well known export Kaleidoscope and, to a lesser extent, Straw Man Army, while also exposing some overtones of the wider left-field ambitious hardcore spectrum with the likes of early Bad Breeding, Acrylics and Daydream being some of the names coming to mind at first glance.
An effortlessly ass-kicking debut EP from an Oslo, Norway group that runs the gamut from the buzzsaw hardcore punk of the opening track Ritalinbjørner to breakneck-speed fuzzed-out garage punk in Laserkrieg, having some similar energy to, say, The Gobs, Kid Chrome and S.B.F.. Stygg Bebi then has some distinct dungeon-esque eggpunk-meets-deathrock vibe reminiscent of stuff like Powerplant, Kerozine or fellow norwegians Molbo. The latter tendency then culminates in the closing track Shament, a catchy anthem built from pure goth-y post punk ear candy leading up to a somewhat black metal-ish conclusion. Fuck me this is some strong shit!
Not kidding, this is some honest to god oi! shit right there yet this stuff also couldn't be more far removed from what you'd normally expect out of the genre, also marking a sharp departure from this Los Angeles group's (rather unremarkable, if you ask me) earlier output. Rather, this record strikes me as another welcome addition to the small but growing canon of the emerging dungeon punk bubble, kinda like what a simplified Poison Ruïn might sound like if they dialed down the post punk and went all-in on the oi! elements. Add to that a singer who seems to channel some sort of alternate-reality true metal Frankie Stubbs clone and what you get is a new favorite batch of tunes for crushing the world's injustuces with righteous anger and primitive, blunt weaponry.
The second EP of this Atlantic Beach, Florida group delights with a wholly infatuating make of simple, compact and catchy garage- and fuzz punk goodness that actually comes with some unexpectedly varied collection of vibes, at one point or another channeling qualities you might associate with groups such as Satanic Togas, New Berlin, Buck Biloxi, Set-Top Box, Spits, Die TV or Penance Hall.
Following an intoxicatingly strong debut EP last summer, the follow-up by french psychedelic rock wizard Remy Pablo delivers more of that same overwhelming goodness stubbornly executing its very own notion of pulsating loops and blown-out drones at the intersections of psych- and space rock, post-, art-, proto- and garage punk with more than just a little of an MX-80-, Chrome- and Métal Urbain vibe to it.
A magnificent debut single by a nebulous group from nowhere serves up two undeniably tasty synth punk anthems reminiscent as much of the 2000s indie rock era (as in: Remember when Pitchfork was a thing?) as of more recent phenomena in the Cherry Cheeks, Ope or Smirk vein, with a frosting of Digital Leather-esque flavors on top. What's not to like about that?
