Cardiff's Bad Shout already had a promising debut EP out in 2023 and an even stronger second one this summer, yet so far thay never managed to escape that dreaded "not quite there yet"-status in my humble opinion. Well guess what, Bad Shout are so fucking there now with their third extended play on which they alternate between well-worn bluesy oldschool garage punk smashers, hardcore outbursts and power pop-ish, '77-infused earworms with that slight Dickies note to them, among other things.
It took them a couple years after their excellent 2019 Demo but at long last, here's the debut LP of Berlin group Benzin and it's every bit as good as you could possibly have hoped for, shifting the heavily garage-leaning sound of the demo towards more of a post punk feel while keeping the momentum going with speeds often veering into hardcore territory. This shit encapsulates some of the quirkier tendencies of previous Berlin groups like Rogue, DBR, Tanning Bats, Ponys auf Pump, Cold Leather, a synth-less Gym Tonic or the very first Puff! 7". Equally, you may draw comparison to the Leipzig scene with Bands á la Ambulanz, Lassie, Onyon, Laugh Box and, speaking of saxons... i'd say a tiny bit of Pisse is hidden in there as well. There's more to their sound than the obvious german influences though - among other things there's an undeniable vibe of surfboard-wielding early west coast punk and hardcore of the Agent Orange, Germs and Adolescents ilk goin' on here in addition to a more recent crop of hardcore-adjacent groups like Warm Bodies, Judy and the Jerks, Vexx, Itchy and the Nits.
This second EP by an Austin group consisting of, quite possibly, fully imaginary members save for some lone dude in his bedroom, hits all the right pain- and pleasure points of the nervous system with three burning dumpsters worth of primitive and raw-as-fuck three-chord garage- and fuzz punk behaving just about demented enough to please demanding connoisseurs of other stupid fucking shit á la Buck Biloxi, ISIS or Giorgio Murderer. Love it.
Don't let the kinda standard surf rock intro fool you 'cos what it leads into is actually a lot more exciting: Two effortlessly shredding garage punk tunes with a bit of a '77 vibe to them, filled with catchy hooks on the inside and projecting sparkling melodic textures outward, all in all reminding me a bit of early Vaguess or that kickass Wild Rose demo from 2017.
I liked what i heard earlier this year on a neat split EP this Providence, Rhode Island duo (?) did with, well... themselves mostly, under the Cindy alias. This new two-track single has more of that same goodness, opening with a perfectly competent Nerves cover and concluding with an original tune carrying some catchy vibes not entirely dissimilar to the likes of R.M.F.C., Billiam, Gonk, Shrudd, Music for Microwaves or Liquid Lunch.
Although i still haven't dared yet to venture deeper into the kinda intimidating back catalog of Totowa, New Jersey act Monda, they have already made a lasting impression as a shapeshifting, restless creative force in constant flux over the course of this year. While this spring's Stiff Jumbo spazzed out gloriously and let its freak flag fly in short bursts of melodic noise and then, sumer's VIII saw them calm down and relax a bit, for large portions of their newest LP's I'd now say they're spacing out and i mean that in the most flattering sense. This is a fuzzy bundle of DIY space-/acid punk eccentricities that just can't hide the creative drive, human warmth, sense of wonder and curiosity behind its, admittedly, pretty fucking stoned appearance, on one hand reminding me a bit of groups like recent Mononegatives, late-era Useless Eaters, Pow! and some of the more motorik minded incarnations of The(e) O(h)Sees while other songs like I Alwys Have It Till I Need It, Chronic Embarrassment and Creek Time inhabit those same anthemic oldschool indie rock and fuzz punk qualities that made the aforementioned records so special.
Where the average group in the 12XU-related spectrum tends to become ever more elaborate until the point where they start to suck (well, if they make it that long...), Seattle group The Unfit seem to go the opposite route, becoming more stripped down and primitive until they're probably gonna suck at some point as well. Presently, they're far from having reached that stage though and this shit works out marvelously even if - or maybe just because - more than once, their fuzzy garage- and post punk tunes get boiled down to sort of a Feedtime-esque level of monotonous repetition and simplicity.
This Minneapolis group runs an interesting gamut on their newest EP ranging from the punchy fuzz punk attack of Like A Dream? over the math- and noise rock infused post punk of Yeehaw! to the comparatively straightforward garage punk of Saved, while the closing track 5678 branches out into some kind of a hazy space rock jam. At different points i'm reminded of groups as diverse as early Rolex, Cutie, Shark Toys, Reality Group, The Cowboy and Big Bopper.
So here's the second cassette by a certain group of witches, once again spreading their bodily juices over any decent, moldy dungeon wall they can find in their hometown of Simi Valley, California. Like anything they've done so far, this is a gloriously burning dumpster of fuzzed-out garage punk mayhem spiked with heavy-duty hooks and catchy melodies that shall not be missed by friends of similar worrisome developments á la The Gobs, Slimex, early Exhite, Exit Mould, Geoduck Diodes and 3D & The Holograms.
Admittedly, the debut LP of this Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania group is a bit of a cheat, as the first five songs are just their 2023 demo verbatim but then again, it's kinda nice to have that shit given a proper release at last and the added new tracks are every bit as good! The opening track Nothing Left comes right out of the gate with a distinct proto- and first-wave US punk vibe calling to mind Stooges, Dead Boys and a bit of Gun Club. Televised Violence then almost feels as if Radio Birdman and Saints got fused with Hot Snakes and some of the more eccentric early eighties hardcore acts like Really Red and Saccharine Trust. All the way through, you also can't deny an oldschool garage-ish vibe right inbetween Pagans and Dead Moon, as well as an equal measure of early west coast hardcore energy, in conjunction with some unfailing songwriting chops being distilled into a strong, explosive cocktail of primal punk rock excellence.
