The racist pricks were out in force this weekend across England. “Protecting statues” by pissing on one.
One of these pieces of shit (sue me, if you like) was pictured on Twitter saying: “the racism mate…its fucking…..coming back, mate, cuz….of” He never elaborated as to what his point was. In fact, I’ll help him: cocaine is a dangerous drug when mixed with low IQ. Again sue me “mate”, love to hear from you.
There are millions of reasons why multi-culturalism rules. Here’s today’s: Shit Tinnies.
Although from Sydney, the band introduce themselves as “The Kiwi, the Brit, the Serb and the Canadian” (the Brit has the mohawk, that’s pretty much all I know) and appropriately for such a melting pot, the 20 minutes and seven songs on “Point To Prove” go all over the place.
Indeed, they are unified by only two things: 1) every single one has the “Explicit” sign on Apple Music (which always gets bonus points) and 2) they are ace. Pure and simple.
“301” starts like a hip hop song. Jam, or Stefan, I am not sure, raps the verse with quick fire delivery. The chorus explodes like Pkewx3 after an all-night bender or Rancid, or anyone really. The point is, this crushes.
“Blah Blah Blah” knows its punk history. Loud, snotty and totally unrefined like the best 70s stuff – plus Danger (listed on social media as “Drums and stuff”) gives his kit a pasting like it owes him money, or its stolen his girlfriend – or more accurately spilled his pint. The solo that Jam pulls out at the end is enough to convince that this is a band you simply have to see live.
The title track chugs a bit, then skanks a bit, then gets in a drunken brawl, but all with tongues in cheek, and the feeling that this is just – first and foremost – a laugh, is never better shown than on the utterly majestic slice of nihilistic punk rock, that is “Town”.
“Our town is such a bore, so we are coming to yours to start a war. I don’t wanna have another day in silence, so shut the fuck up and enjoy the violence. Causing trouble in towns till the day we die.” I don’t think they mean it, but that chorus captures the spirit here, that’s for damn sure.
“Deadline” is another ska flavoured one, but with a real harsh feel, like it wants to break out at any second. When it does, it really does.
And actually, although I’ve dealt with this in a light hearted way, there is a real skill here in the way they manage to maintain such a coherence in a record that isn’t, on first listen, coherent at all.
“Quick” would, in other hands, be a perfect slice of Offspring-ish pop punk. But although they might be pretty fly (for white guys), this is too beered-up and lairy to be a pop hit.
It is perhaps fitting that this ends with “Hey Man”, and whoever it’s about needs to be scared. The chorus is pretty on the nose: “Hey man, fuck you!” And I’ll bet it sounds ace live, and I’ll bet it finishes their gigs.
Perfect, snotty, nasty punk rock. Not a million miles from the wonderful album The Chats put out a few weeks ago. Across the seven songs and in so many other ways too: point proved.
Rating 8.5/10
