“I eventually got to that time of life when you thought ‘there must be more to life than this’,” intones the voice at the start of “Can’t Abide With Me” – a track about halfway through “Roden House Blues” – the fifth album (I think, it’s tough to keep up) from The Hip Priests.

It came on in my car as I pulled up to the gates of work the day after a Bank Holiday. I have worked there for 16 years, almost as long as THP have been spitting their nihilism, their anthems of hate (they work on a simple principle: I don’t discriminate, I hate everyone) over the cheeriest choruses you can conceive.

Luckily, the solution is at hand: everyone is a c**t. Burn the place down. Or, like the meme I saw the other day, “stop worrying what other people think. Have you seen other people? They’re like…”

That’s the way you’ll feel after this half an hour. And if you don’t, you’re a better man than me.

“Trojan Horseshit” – which opens this with 88 seconds of filth and fury. And filth, did I mention that? Sets the tone for the violence within. “Don’t Wanna Save Your Rock N Roll,” yells Nathan Von Cruz at the start of “Inaction Rocks,” but at this point, they might have already?

It’s as simple as this: Eddie Spaghetti is the scariest man on planet earth. I’ve met him. And The Supersuckers man says this is the best band in the UK. We aren’t arguing. It’s impossible to, anyway. “Shakin’ Ain’t Fakin’” rather proves it.

“Pissed On Power” slashes like Zeke after a three-day speed bender and takes a swipe at those who rule us. It should be played on Saturday when Charles Windsor gets crowned. It won’t be. The sheep love being ruled.

And if it all gets too much, just end it all. “Chasing Death” races to Dignitas with its dick swinging. On a Harley.

Joining Von Cruz in this endeavor are Austin Rocket, Lee Love, Gentle Ben, and D.P. Bomber. Probably not their real names, but it stops the police from finding them. It also makes clear this isn’t real.

Instead, this is the band for those who dream of smashing the system but live in a semi. Want to go to a debauched club but have parents’ evening. The difference they have the alter ego, one who writes brilliance like “Sell My Soul” or their anthem “Just To Get By.”

For those that like to give up, along comes “Persistence Is Futile.” Fuck it. It’ll only get worse. And if I deliberately haven’t mentioned The Hellacopters yet, then it’s time. Although Nicke Andersson never had a chorus that went “slow down, don’t give a fuck,” the Hip Priests do.

This doesn’t slow up. Not one bit. “Tiger In My Tank” drives them, “The Best Revenge” ends with the simple thought that “living like you means shit to me, living like a slave and trying to stay free.”

The inference is clear. They are not you. They are their gang. You’re with them or against them. No half measures. No escape.

The Hip Priests aren’t the finest rock n roll band in the UK. They are the purest, filthiest rock n roll band in the world, and “Roden House Blues” is one of the albums of the year.

Rating 10/10

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