Thursday, January 29, 2009

Big Neck

From the Virginia label’s dirty-seamed cuffs and collars of scabrously unsettling skronk comes this short nine-track kneecap-scraping knuckle-fuck on a slab of plastic delectably thick enough to use as several manhole covers for all those street-punk bands that get so easily lost in their own woahs. Howling outta Pittsburgh this goofy grease-paper punk’n’growl isn’t quite so wound-salting as a lot of other Big Neck achilles tendon snappers but it revels suitably in it’s own filth of brutally short baseball bat beating boogie like Nothing Better To Do and Get It Right, stage diving off tables onto empty dance-floors and burning down those rambling grouches for grimacing good times amongst the stale beer, cider sediment and gloating at their own losing n’ self-loathing. Limited to 500 copies, get it down yer neck.
Stu Gibson

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