Fuckin' ell - talk about being dropped in the shit. Two bands I adore and filled with people I consider chums and now a split CD to review with everyone involved. That ginger bastard Carl Arnfield has a lot to answer for but during this trial for OMD I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. So here it bloody well goes.

Released in Retro blue vinyl there is a comforting embrace of how things were done and how things can still be done irrespective of critiques and followers of modes. As long as the music holds up it is nice to dabble at different presentations and AFS and The Bullet Kings hardly ever fall short of producing the goods music-wise.

So to the first side with AFS offering 3 slices of their pleasing punk rock. As usual the sound is instantaneously recognisable and the adhesive essence is just as prevalent. 'I-Spy' is typical arthritic stuff albeit of the traditional kind. Such are the perils of having an obvious sound. It ain't a bad track though but as a fan I am chomping at the bit for new stuff and track 2 'Drinking In Anger' has many a leaning towards meeting these desires with its combination of Irish twiddlings and the bands gritty vibe. The combination works and perhaps shouldn't but one thing is for sure - an axe is well and truly swung!

The inklings of the elaborate are realised even further with 'Punk Rock And Skateboards' as a maturity is founded that in someways deflowers its own innocence. A tree is now felled and several seeds are sown in new pastures giving rise to expectancy of new fruit and bountiful blooms. Let the waters come and we shall await the new growth.

Flipping over we come across 3 compositions by those beefy baldies (less so in Wilf's case) The Bullet Kings. Now in the past I have had reason to moan and groan about a couple of efforts by these large lads which I found didn't set the chemicals a cruising. In conjunction with these gripes I have also been given excuse to fly the BK flag real high and write glowing praises for many a fine song this lot have battered forth. Here we have more of the same.

'Gutterpress' - what can I say? This is an absolute loser for me and with hand on heart it is one of the bands worst tracks to date. Again I must emphasise this is truly a personal opinion but the song seems to lack any bite whatsoever and just comes across as a bit of filling in the pie. A replication of previous efforts donning a disguise that doesn't make me sit up and think 'What have we here then'. Perhaps it is me (it wouldn't be the first time) but there you go - a weak opening nonetheless.

Now here comes the conundrum. After a song that fails to stir the very depths of my mental knackers to an anthem that not only grinds those said globes to gratifying glory but arouses the intellectual member to a state of incredible inflation. 'My Country' is a masterpiece and I feel is the bands best song to date. Hows that - worst and best in two foul swoops - now that's awkward for you. 'My Country' oozes pride, punk craft and a high standard of genre know-how and really is a remarkable piece of punk rock patriotism. If Cocksparrer would have composed this many a shaven headed 'erbert would have been shitting' himself with biased delight at another homage (in some ways) to this great and glorious land. Bollocks to that - forget influence and wavered opinion - this is the real deal and I hope for the band and the scene that this epic contribution doesn't get mislaid in the creaking vaults of punk rocks overlooked triumphs. Every now and again a band turns out something special - here we have the Bullet Kings moment.

'Fuck You' closes and despite the aggressive title is not as venomous as you may imagine. It's a bouncy old tune and reflects the BK's emphasis on melody rather than all-out rage but now and again this lot combine the two and the fireworks dazzle. Not bad at all though and keeps the flow going for this prolific band.

A fair split which I am sure will be greeted with gushing praise and much appreciation. This fernickity fungal fellar has found a few personal sourballs but at least it's an honest review. Guilty as charged.



Having worked quite a bit with Flat Back Four I have come to realise how difficult it is for this band (and a fuckin' good band at that) to gain recognition if they keep on failing to fit into any ridiculous pigeon-hole of the scenes safety net. I have never doubted the quality of Flat Back Four but have been frustrated by the lack of attention these 'erberts achieve. Slightly too old to fit in with the self-embracing youth, too Americanised for the old punk brigade and not metalised enough for the rock scene, I feel distraught at the sparsity of 'niche' crossover thus resulting in this bands (and the like) unfulfilled pulling power and adulation. Don't misunderstand me though - 9 times out of 10 these lot do the business and turn many a head but the obscure and paradoxically familiar sound they dish out fails to win over a fan base they deserve. Such is punk at the moment I suppose!

This 5 track EP for me sums up the bands many positives and arguable negatives as the mix is excellently produced and has many a fine moment and debatable tangent that will continue to divide the listeners. We commence with the scything 'Burn The Flag'. A speeding kick-off defying the realms of organised convention with a slower paced chorus that seems to stand in opposition with the verse therefore taking a few listens to relish the recipe. The song is pulled off with aplomb and retains an abundance of defiance and protestation.

The title track 'Once More Unto The Breach' is an equally well delivered piece but staggers a little too much into many a winding road and just as one feels direction is found another twist is taken and an unexpected corner turned. Like a fatman convention in a caravan - too much squeezed into one small space gives the effect of claustrophobia.

'Jeff's Rock Night' however suffers no such problems and even though musically still as busy as it's predecessor it is a fuckin' mammoth track and just pinpoints majestically what a brilliant band Flat Back Four are. This song rocks hard and the colourful spectrum of chords and rainbow rhythms is a veritable classic as far as instrumentals go. The band are worthy of high praise indeed for this track alone.

'Dogs Actually' - mmmm- 'Slags Really' seems more appropriate the dirty bastards. This song is an oddity as the first few listens creates no interest and makes no impression whatsoever. However just as the thumb is turned downwards the bone is dropped and furry ears are pricked and then the song eventually cocks its leg and pisses on any inklings towards indifference the listener may have had. Perhaps not an ugly duckling to a swan but maybe a maggot to a fly.

The last song 'If I Die Tonight' is melancholic, remorseful and tinged with nagging fear, brooding deep and showcasing another fine aspect of this outfits artillery. Devoid of pace but crammed with passionate intent the heartbeat/flatline finale caps off an unusual and satisfying essay of emotion. Well scripted and played forth with accolades it is a nice closure to a CD that has many questions with a few left unanswered.

Having recently lost two members it could be a case of the 'Fuck That Two' but it won't be! Before you know it this outfit will be back to a fully functioning unit at full throttle - and I can't wait. Bassists and guitarist apply in writing to...



Last time I reviewed The Dugsz they had a wee lassie on vocals and what a fuckin' treat it was. Now we have Ram rattling his vocal chords to buggery and what a fine job he does. In fact this insatiable punk rock zealot has once again been a major player in orchestrating a band in producing the pure fuckin' goods. This is bloody good and drenched in honest, hard graft and punk rock tradition.

The opening brace are a couple of real storming pieces with 'Reality's Dream' cracking straight into action and taking no prisoners with its high powered attack and machine-gun desire. Rams gob is at full tilt and the spittle soaked passion sprays far and wide with a fiery taste liable to frazzle any doubters to a crisp. 'This Is My Country' is saturated with disgust and patriotic faith and comes across as the CD's most remarkable effort. The band has already captured the attention with these two classy slicing punk riots and one can almost envision the dedication and rugged belief the players put into each and every note. Marvellous.

A slower bass and skanky guitar open track 3, 'Law 'n' Order'. Don't be misled as no sooner has the musical spliff been ignited then it is thoroughly snubbed out by the violent outburst of 'Fuck yer law and order' and then comes the noise. Seething with vehement faith this speedy piece maintains the raucous edge and the spiked heads will no doubt ping and pogo to this until they vomit forth their beer soaked stomach contents. And before they can get to grips with the sudden gastric explosion 'Violent Youth' will kick their arses into renewed action and hypnotically entice those dancing demons to do their stuff and force their chemically crazed victims to hit the floor. A solid track relying on straight ahead guitars and formulated singing but rising above mediocre horizons to give view of a blazing panorama of controlled havoc. If your like your punk straight off the bone then get a load of this ya fuckers.

Track 5 throws me somewhat and is the only effort I am unsure of as regards how the paying punter will appreciate this different facet of fury. 'Scum' tickles its way along but do not underestimated the viciousness of this biting piece of punk skank. Undoubtedly anti-police and anti-musical procedure, a decent mould is broken and the whole CD is fractured nicely by this brave attempt at showcasing a different style. 'Fuck The Polis' reminds me of many a song but as is the norm for this fungal infested nut no spores of identification are found. The song thumps along and continues where track 4 left off. I am certainly not complaining.

Last orders nearly and the penultimate inferno is an unnecessary cover. I do undertsand why it is included and realise it is more a homage to a band respected than a cheap filler just showcasing talent. 'No Feelings' is a tough cover to pick but the Dugz nail it with their own efficiency and brand of scotch rock with the end result being a solid effort. The only reason I use the word 'unnecessary' is that this lot can stand alone with their own musical compositions rather than rely on this mode of output. I am sure I am in the minority but still had to make the point - fuckin' ell that OMD tag has got to be maintained you know.

The final pint is pulled and the encore comes in the shape of 'Americas Glory'. An opening drumbeat reminiscent of an early Exploited ditty rolling into an urgent tirade against the yanks and their war-mongering ways. A great song that closes what is a bloody concrete CD.

The Prairie Dugz seem to have come up with another winning formula of retro punk spiced up with modern day zest and production. Hopefully the line-up can now stabilise and these Jock rockers can start making a name for themselves further afield.



A CD that misses the mark for me and comes across as a band still trying to find what works best and what doesn't. Totally experimental in both style and production with Skiprat on the cusp of producing something more memorable.

Track 1 'Squat' has an old school under-produced resonance with simplistic lyrics that on a live basis should work but struggles here to convey any thriving passion. Played louder helps the cause but from this band I feel they should have stretched themselves a whole lot more especially with this opening account.. 'Blank Generation' pursues and is a good track that has a groovy feel with a nice overall composition. Again I feel this could be improved with clearer, crisper audio attention but the slightly choked radio airwave feel works well and the sound passes forth as something different.

'Sunrise' is where Skiprats future lies as the dub-reggae stroll is a move up in quality and for me is an essence that this band should wholly embrace and push for with all their talent. It seems obvious that the gift of this band is in creating canabanoid-cruising clouds like this that drift on laid back rhythm and hazy melody. A geat piece that is followed by the slightly humourous but unconvincing 'Odd's On'.

'Party Larks' has a grinding start that soon drifts into hash-head smoothness and again the recipe works. Perhaps a bit more clarity of individual players would help but one is instantaneously struck by the overall more knowledgeable delivery. The pacier central instrumental piece re-emphasises the need for clearer production but this is a nice laid-back cut nonetheless.

And so to the final 4 tracks and as with the previous offerings the track that stands out is the slower segment that is in fact the CD's finest track and really moves up a couple of impressive notches and leaves me wondering why don't Skiprat produce one full CD of this excellent vibe and just sprinkle in a few pacier bits here and there. A smattering of skank woudn't go amiss too but each and every instrument must be given space to breathe and make its own individual statement rather than be grouped and de-characterised. 'Hometown' is a moment to savour and if in any doubts about the capabilties of this 3-piece then here we need to think again.

I like Skiprat and the two live occasions I have seen them have left me pleased but in need of getting out my 'Improvement Inducing' poking stick and ramming it up their arses ha, ha. More than capable and as in the previous review I feel the potential is far from fulfilled.



A grim and grimy expulsion from the bowels of the most polluted of minds this hard hitting realistic onslaught excretes its way from the audio anus and into the very depths of ones mental underpants.  There is no apology for the brutality, no 'excuse me' for the harsh sincerity, no respite from the terrifying truth.  The Scabs are groomed from the gutter and grab straight at the throat with rodent-like hunger.  There is a vein of wild, unsettled anger running through everything this band create and the disgust and disatisfaction with this waning shithole we call 'home' is apparent at all times.
'This Is England' has an undercurrent of pride but which doesn't hold back from the fact that the country we adore is turning to utter shit around us and no-one really gives a toss.  From the dustbin lid drum commencement to the nasty cut of the guitar and bass the song starts strong and grows into a monster as vocalist Geeza snarls out his burning angst in true, unadulterated punk fashion.  A fiery start and a riot that would be hard to better but one of the best songs of the year follows next and goes by the blatant name of 'Bastard'.  This is 200% 'eat shit and shove it up yer fuckin' arse' punk rock and to all the younger bands out there who want to be inspired by a bit of mature blazing passion then check this gut-ripping filth out.  A dirty, molesting attack that boasts of badness and mean intent this tirade cruises on hate, spite and unabashed arrogance.  An utter classic and a glorious new level for The Scabs.
'Soldier' gets back to basic formula and is delivered with utter contempt for war and the soldiers who fight without knowing the reason.  Some nice guitar slices spice up the noise and suddenly we are into the modern day remake of 'Sick Society'.  An early Scabs gem slightly reflavoured and refurbished with extra venom and more sinister ambience.  The opening verse is an eerie piece that lies heavy with its bass and vocal coupling.  The whole song is pregnant with the encrusted foetus of  consternation.  An all-consuming rhythm builds and another scabby success is borne.
'Police Brutality' is an old skool theme but here rehashed into a modern day guise that in some ways pays homage to renowned classics such as 'Liddle Towers', 'Anti-Police' and the like.  It's a twisted sound that comes across as a vibe disturbed by the corruption of power and authority.  Tempo and temper build in unison and the whole concoction is a truncheon-snapping triumph.  Again the central guitar solo works and one can also envision Geeza doing his focussed tribal war-dance against this warped sonic explosion.
'Born Evil' kicks in with metalesque showiness but soon gets on the one way express to scumsville with a murderous ditty that displays the emotions of the deviant in true inglorious fashion. 
It's CD's like this that makes one want to put a fist through the window of apathy and stick two-fingers up to the passionless fuckers who try and palm themselves of as caring music fans.  We don't need em', we don' t want em' - here we have punk venom - taste it.
'On Your Own' perhaps is the CD's weakest track and depsite being a fair do it is up against some mighty contenders and pales into insignificance when in fact it should be paid more respect.  The song is like a good bottle of bronze and improves with each taste but like I said it is one of the lesser tracks of this CD.
'Stalker' is the mental invalid possessed by the devil and skulking ominously in the sable shadows of musics insane catacombs.  Slashing and stalking yeah - hellbent on the corrupting innocents hearts with the rusty blade of troubled righteousness this biographical bombardment is one of The Scabs live hotspots and here it does the business despite the occasional lack of fluidity, most notably in the centre of the songs where the drums seem to be mixed and matched from two recordings.  A bad edit or a dropped beat it doesn't take away from this crackin' songs charm.
'Night Of The Living Dead' is a tribute to the carpet carrying bonehead that frequents the town centres on every Friday and Saturday night.  A solid song with a disturbed tangent thrown onto the end of each chorus that adds interest and shows The Scabs experimental side and willingness to carefully tread different boards.
The quality of 'Sexual Deviant' is wonderfully appropriate at this point in proceedings and whereas a lot of CD's start to tail off at the end The Scabbites find increased vigor and seething essence with this massively impressive song.  I adore this as it encapsulates the bands entire outpourings that deal with things that should be left unspoken and the darker side of the human psyche.
'Dead End Dave' is an old fave of mine and here sounds fabulous and fills my head with that old skull on a stick that bobbed and bopped in unison with Geeza at his finest.  Great memeories and the 'Bring Back Dave' campaign should be ringing out all over this country.
The CD's title track ends the CD and shows a maturity that whets the appetite for the next release.  A solid finale and no better way to end this 12 track barrage and really puts the finale sentence to this brief tale except...
We have an old-skool punk rock reprise that crawls in, makes a polished statement and drifts out leaving a feeling of a job well done.
The Scabs best shit to date with the previous two quality 6 track dumps bettered in all ways concerned.  It pleases me entirely when a band I adore makes steady progress like this and always leaves room for more.  I think The Scabs are fuckin' brilliant and although the more self-appointed intellects amongst the punk scene will say its just a re-jig of an old formula I defy them to better the spirit.  Yeah its old-skool punk but it's done with a rusty, unwashed brilliance that I have always enjoyed and will continue to do.  Go get this and get out and see this choice band - say what you will, this fungal picking twat loves the Scabs and is real proud of it - so there!



The Fast Cars have been in and out of the scene for nigh on 30 years but the fluid poppy punk is still as infectious and has a wonderful childlike innocence that transcends time itself. This 3 track freebie was picked up at a recent gig where this fine outfit played a stormer and stood out within a mix of other competent bands.

The title track 'My First, My Last, My Everything' opens and is everything you would ainticipate from a snap, crackle and pop band revitalising a Barry Shite - oops sorry - White song and giving it, as the sleeve notes say, a bit of 'umph'. A good blend of melodic guitar and clear vocals make this an immediate pick up and pogo winner.

The final 2 songs (fuckin' hell a short review) are both the same albeit different versions. 'This Is England (Football Version) is my least favourite of the two because any song that pays homage to a bunch of overpaid, over-publicised wankers ain't ever going to go down well with me. These participants of the now non-contact sport that we call football need to get things right on the pitch before tributes to their skill are paid so this is a real non-starter and this miserable, awkward fucker has nothing more to say only this is the weaker of the two efforts.

The second version (UK not USA version) is borne from a mixture of one mans pride in his own little piece of England, namely his own home, and the uncomfortably close relationship between the UK and US governments. I like the flag-flying vibe and patriotic inflection that runs very deep throughout and especially the bubbling bass lines that support the entire construction. A very honest song and composed perfectly for this kind of theme.

So there you have it - one of the shortest reviews in a long while (which I still managed to have a rant in) and I think a good CD to arouse the curiosity and thus lead to further purchases from the Fast Cars.



'This ain't punk', 'What the fuck' and ' Is the Fungal one going simple' are all cries I expect to hear from many a mohawked numbskull regarding my review of this mini-album whereas 'By golly lad he has found a good un' there' is a phrase I would expect from the most discerning spiky top as well as other genre residents. This may not be typical all out punk rage and in fact may not be punk at all but I am loathe to fence off the scene by disregarding offerings the many may frown upon because it doesn't meet certain limiting criteria.

An eerie moodiness opens circulated with flamenco-esque guitar and emerald vocals thus making 'The Iron Monger' a choice curio on which to mull and meander before ink is trailed on paper. A comfy start and 'Time And Place' follows with an almost early 80's rock feel which is soon banished as the intensity slighlty increases and the great vocal output is unfurled. The overcast verse merges almost unnoticeably into the sky blue chorus and the opposing conditions counterpunch subtly in this tetchy piece.

'That Summer Feeling' is the soaring winner on this CD as the whole composition comes across as optimistic and confident. As on a previous solo CD by vocalist James 'Bar' Bowen the whole ambience is feel-good with a few extra tasty morsels thrown in to increase the frothy delight.

Visions of rolling hills draped in attire of verdant patchwork beneath whisked up clouds of virgin white are had when this 60's dreamboat twirls its way into the awaiting lugholes. A flowery piece that leaves me at a loss as to what the lyrical content is actually about but the song still attracts the musical bee within with its melodic pollen and pristine production. A definite hippy haze.

'Your Greatest Day' is sweet ditty about the time when maturity is finally a reality and the time for reflection is at the fore. A great piece that again contrasts doubt with belief and the sobering edge is kept joyful with a enticing sunshine guitar that just captures the attention. 'Inheritance' has a stronger edge to proceedings and the boldness is well received as the CD was in danger of become to similar in style. Hardly bursting with blazing anger this still has a tidy nip and the only flaw is that the whole effort goes on way too long for my punky-trained brain.

'Just A Little Time' idles it's way along and for moments of laziness and sorrowful melancholy it is a piece to make matters worse and a real winner for those who like to dwell in their own misery. I find this finale quite stifling and do prefer the more joyous output this lot dish out but I am sure some find this moribund style pleasing hence the success of many a R.E.M song.

In summary a CD by a talented outfit who have moments to please a wider audience than they suspect which I suggest should be put into practice by playing quite a few obscure gigs in the hope of winning new and varied fans. Why not indeed?



I viewed this band at a recent all-dayer that had the Anti-Nowhere League headlining. Suffice to say that due to it being early on in the day there were only six or seven punters watching this lot as the real punks only turn-up for the big bands (add heavy tone of sarcasm when reading the last sentence). For myself it was another true pleasure to see 3 young lads knock out some fuckin' excellent tunes as well as attempting a variety of approaches and melodies all of which worked. A great discovery and the subseuquent picking up of this CD has shown that this band are not only pretty efficient live but can transpose these qualities onto the old silver disc.

'Time' is a fuckin' guilt edged song that splits at the seams with talent and ear-catching promise. I really rate this track and it is a well worked composition that blooms bright with each and every listen. Sometimes one track can tell so much about a band and this does just that - pure quality. There is an undercurrent of restrained intensity and about midway through it is unleashed via an instrumental segment and man what a moment. Executed with precision and produced with an exactness that belies the youthful age of these 3 coloured midgets.

Track 2 'Don't Smile For The Camera' has a tension that holds hard and builds in tautness before the chorus gives little respite. An explosion seems imminent but never happens and yet the song is a winner and another noteworthy effort winding down in frenetic style with all heads down into the awaiting oblivion.

Poking guitar notes and a heartbeat drumbeat open before rolling gradually into a great opening vocalist moment. 'Cellar V' displays another approach by this band and already signifies an outfit who are unafraid to break formula and tamper with tunes outside the embracing safety of the winning recipe book. The white heat explosion that eventually comes is unexpected and combines with the commencing routine marvellously and makes the whole song an accomplishement rather than just a good effort.

The final track 'The Stalemate Story Of Life' swings in with swaggering style and sanguine aplomb cutting many complimentary musical directions but keeping them neatly arranged and focussed rather than a mish mash of opposing showcases. The whole piece operates just fine and rounds off 4 songs of excellent quality and supreme promise.

Hopefully 3BD can fledge and fly the local nest and soar high with more renowned bands resulting in deserved accolades and appreciation. A real good find this and any promoter's short of a band should definitely consider this trio.



An incredible piece of punk and skank here and all for only a nugget. This is worth far more than the fee suggests but such is the tight-fisted attitude of the scene today and the overwhelming blandness of the download brigade. As stale and as void of any spirit as I can imagine its these keyboard orientated fuckers that are ripping the scene to shreds with their boggle eyed indifference and disparate priorities. I hope this CD sells by the bucket load as I do all compilations that are done with the right attitude but I expect it will be a struggle - past evidence proves this to be a very saddening possibility. Pathetic ain't it? So, with as usual, emphasis on being honest and taking time to assess, another compilation CD gets my full attention.

A loud fuzz in and then the skanky retro garlands are adorned with 10 'O'-Clock Horses and the optimistic beauty of 'High Pavement'. Reminiscent of early ska and of a very classy standard. An exclamation of 'Come' and The Griswalds are at it with the slurry blah punk tirade 'Hate Your Guts'. A contrast of pieces already displaying that this CD will take many twists and turns and for me that's exactly what a compilation should do.

The Living Daylights enter into the fray with 'Hidden In A Smile' a sound similar in fact to several Punk-O-Rama bands (compliment or insult) that gives hint of a very qualified band to say the least. Not everyones tipple but destined to access the vaults of popularity. Ben KP Smith (potentially a crisp and nut retailer) knocks out the pavement prose of 'Knuckles And Pride' an accoustic slice that builds in rage and is a darn good serving. Addictive Philosophy slink their way in with yet more retro-feeling skank and the delightful 'Supernatural Race'. As smooth and as polished as you like and lacking the previous tracks bite which is a nice point to note for future compilation compilers.

With the aforementioned yell of 'Come' we have next the second intercut by The Earl Of Hemmingroyd this time by the name of 'Numbhead'. A quick rap attack cum poetical lunacy that is added here and there throughout the CD and I think is a crackin' inclusion despite a wanky production that is marred with unnecessary buzz. Shame because the pieces are short, snappy and flow-breakingly catchy. So comes forth 'The Hijacks' with the youthful burst of 'Love Thy Neighbour' an adequately effective piece as is Heroic Doses and 'St Algernon...'. Both tracks exude pace and add acceleration to the CD in general. 9 tracks in, overall good quality, an abundance of new listening material and potential new bands to see. What more could one want?

One of my fave bands next with The Despondents issuing another rusty backdated quick ditty that is as catchy as ever and goes under the banner of 'Ain't Got Much'. The Rutherfords pursue with the drunkenly slurry 'Leave Home'. Poppy and simplistic and again easily caught in the aural net - Nice! Another burst by The Earl with an amusing rhyme about 'Five Pee' and the problems of having only that (crazed) and we are greeted by 'Specifically Toast' with the ludicrously entitled 'No It Is The Bad Kind Of Puppy'. Light punching pop punk that maintains the inoffensive frothed up feel that makes the CD a pleasure.

Not even halfway through and the risk of RSI increases as I type this lengthy appraisal. Mike TV and 'Dumbfuck' surges higher and to be honest if someone claimed that this was an early Green Day recording I wouldn't be overly shocked. Take that as you will but it is a solid track and ideal for the peripheral punk who likes things processed rather than puked. Pass the gange time as Tolerance hint at 60's cycle rock with 'A.S.B.O' and the pre-pubescent Kid Vicious gloriously scream their way through the enjoyable 'Vicious Party'. Great balloon popping fun that precedes the next installment of insanity from The Earl with the excrement based 'I Met Her Down At The Sewer' which in turn offers no inkling of the following drooly slop of 'Will You Be My Girlfriend' by The Atoms. A schluck yucky piece but surprisingly likeable nonetheless.

Hang on in there folks we are gradullay getting there! Quick breather and here we go again.

Track 19 by Love and a 45 is called 'Sold Or Seen' and is a glamourous escapade that is again sloppy seconds punk but still does OK despite a lack of testicular tetchiness. The Human Targets '50 50 Dicey City' screeches in with punky skank brakes that are well and truly busted as the whole affair careens all over the rhythmic highway and manages just to stay on track to create a chaotic discord liable to please most perusers. 'Berkeley Court' by The Earl is an indecipherable scratched up mess before the classiness of Hateball shines through with the effective 'Blind Faith'. The Sedations crawl forth with the formulated 'She Sang Moon River' that teeters on the edge of several sub-genre's but remains nebulous whereas The Pop Fosters 'Phoenix' comes across as a rough and ready concoction that seems unfinished and lacks the sharp execution of many other songs on this CD. More strained underproduced rants from The Earl with 'Empty' before the massive moment of the CD is upon us with a fantastic snippet of The Murderburgers last CD released in all it's popping brilliance. 'Outta My Mind' is a tremendous inclusion and just reinforces the fact that this lot are a vital viewing for me in the near future. The Zatopeks do well to hold their own after this shuddering outburst but they do just that with a sloping approach that relies on expert composure and high standard delivery - perfect antique pop.

By fuck The Earl is here again with a brief gabble called 'It's The Day'. Mike Scott knocks in a nice accoustic drawl with 'The Provocation', Capguns and Coke chug along adequately with 'Teenage Broken Heart' before the bluesy rock 'n' roll Beach Boy's burst of 'Fun, Fun, Fun' crashes ashore via the talent of The Hotlines.

The last 3 tracks are raped and pillaged with yet more utterances and padded cell noises from The Earl with 'Chicken' 100% madness, 'Shit More' a reflection of a crippled mind and 'Come On' - mmmm!

Within these 3 disturbing waffles comes the superb skank of Tyrannosaurus Alan showing a remarkable growth and new level of output with 'Futures', an excellently positioned hardcore explosion called 'Twitch' by the brilliantly named Hangover Heartattack and the tidy mellowness albeit squeaky clean 'On The Words Of Others' by the tranquilly named Hudson.

So there you have it - a veritable thesis as far as reviews go but if the guy who produces this puts the effort in and keeps the cost so low then it's worthy of the effort as are 99% of the CD's I review. Overall a fuckin' bargain and you spoilt bastard punks and skankers have never had it so good as the computer age forces the hand of the compilation creator. A bit of an adventurous first effort this and if and when volume two arrives I expect more ravings (obvisously better produced) and more great songs which have a fair few new bands on for us all to discover. A top notch job!



I was expecting some heavy rockin' tunes here and yet...

The opening burst left me somewhat on the reviewing backfoot as it opens with swinging twang that seems to promise of a staggering stroll down Skanky Lane however...

The high fuelled guitar strokes burst forth and all seems back on course as the direct, foot down power chords are rammed forth before...

Breaking into a ska-esque verse which... erupts into a full-on chorus that is slightly restrained but works nonetheless.

Yeah a real conglomeration of opposing tunes here that comes across on initial plays as a rhythmic faux pas but in fact eventually blossoms into not a bad track at all. The mix of 'The Trap Is Set' is a dangerous risk and the whole structure seems in constant threat of self implosion but in fact is carried off quite well and creates a solid opening gambit.

The stuttering drumbeat that commences 'Breaking The Silence' is soon overwhelmed and duly numbed by a moment of hard riffology that once again breaks into serenity before building in tempo for a strong chorus delivery. I am not overly keen on the small jutting solo in the middle which seems unnecessary in the extreme and subdues the flow however this is soon banished and the song finishes strong.

The final track 'Oh Salamander' is delivered initially with great purpose but loses a bit of weight here and there which is a shame because the harder edged moments thrive and are well produced thus creating an all round appreciable racket. The song fizzles out rather than abruptly explodes into oblivion and the CD ends.

Not bad overall but there is a whole lot more to come from this lot and I feel that the 'head down, rattle for home' strategy is where Helsinki Seven will find their greatest success.

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