From Wisconsin. The sort of noisy, fuzzy, hairy, garage rock that’s best when you turn it up really loud. Fast and hard, the tracks are short and concise.
On Halloween night, 1986, Midwest’s hammering punk legends Dead Boys showed up to collect their beer money. In the ’80s, we called this “good bootleg quality.”
Spastic sucker with the passion/talent to win you over. “60s Mod R&B geared to shake your money maker hosted by ex-Catbutt/Sinister Six guitarist Brother James!”
A really good movie about some specific fallout from the P-word. Well shot, nicely edited, thoughtfully put together, a buncha nice interview stuff appended.
An anomaly. We knew of their urgent style of punk, but the locals knew the mythology. When Riot Fest facilitated a reunion, Raygun added to the legend.
Anthemic choruses and melodic guitar lines that go from electric ’66 folk up through Mick’s leads in The Clash to later guitar rockers like Leatherface.
Hardcore punk with vocals so raspy, you wonder if the singer will even be able to talk in a couple years. He’s a pissed off ball of hate spitting on everything.
Catchy pop punk that you hesitate to call punk, cuz it’s rooted in simple good hooks like Springsteen, Mellencamp, Tom Petty, or a somber Green Day might pen.
Spunky bubblegum powerpop anthems by a blonde hottie, signed to Joan Jett’s label, Warped Tour darlings, with “Because I’m Awesome” in teen sitcoms I loathe.