Ska driven by punky guitars and quick tempos is my favorite fun music. They could be singing about public execution and my feet would still be dancing.
My White Bread Mom and Moody Jackson have the early ’80s thrash sound (early Beastie Boys, FUs, etc.) that people are now boasting about having been into back in the day.
Cascade finds pouty Pete gargling on his customary elixir of abject despair, albeit with more sensual atmospheres and textures than his previous albums.
The best punk rock record to come out of Boston since Rabid Reaction by the Freeze. Not since then have I heard so much honesty and emotion in an album.