We once had a bloke in for a meeting at work. He reckoned he was an “influencer.” I admit I asked him what he did for a proper job.
It doesn’t matter who – or what – you are; Dirt Box Disco may well have an opinion on it. For years, they’ve been making brilliant, if potty-mouthed, funny, and, yes, possibly offensive music. “Rokapokalips” is no different.
It starts as it means to go on. “# Bollocks” begins with SV screaming “motherfucker!!” at no one in particular, and that’s the point; anyone is in the sights. Including influencers – which is why I knew I was on safe ground.
And if the title track is genuinely happy, positive, and as catchy as the average Honeycrack tune, then “Cindererlla’s Motorhead Tattoo” is utterly glorious and not happy in the slightest.
There’s always been a touch of the Wildhearts’ sound about DBD (probably why I like them so much!). It’s evident in the intro to “Kill The Music,” and even if the verses get a bit ska, making the catchiest chorus of the year so far out of the words “Kill the music, I don’t wanna dance, I’d kill myself given half a chance” is a special kind of genius, right?
And that word “genius” should never be too far away when talking about Disco. One minute they’re going through a proper punk love song, the next they’re doing “Happy Pills” and going full-on Motorhead with the hook “I love it most when I overdose.”
That thing about everything being on the sights? Never better shown than on “Land Of Hope And Glory,” which surveys 2023 GB and reckons “this great Britain is going down the shitter.” It’s like a Ferocious Dog song – only with way more nihilism and fewer violins.
“Spoilt Brat” is as funny as it gets, and we all know someone like that, let’s be honest – and I’ll bet you can’t guess what they rhyme “brat” with? OK, maybe you can, but matching “fucking arsehole, with you fucking are, though” gets top marks.
What “Up The Dirt Box” lacks in subtlety, it makes up for by being brilliant. “You ain’t the rock n roll,” sneers SV. You know what is? This. It’s the very embodiment of it.
The last one? “We’re Not Taking Any Shit From You” offers anyone up for a scrap. Like Guns N Roses’ “Get In The Ring” if they were from Northern Council Estates, and when it ends with a punk maelstrom, the message is clear.
This is without a doubt – along with The Hip Priests perhaps – the best punk rock band currently on these shores. Granted, you wouldn’t want them to live next door probably, and you might think twice if they took your daughter out, but then: if you’re not offended, then something’s wrong.
I saw Generation Sex last week. It was good fun, but it was basically punk rock karaoke and about as dangerous as a tin of rice pudding.
“Rokapokalips” is the antidote to the boring and the safe.