Chained Bliss ply a catchy but kinda mean-sounding brand of punk rock: thin and gleaming, like a quick blade slipping unexpectedly between your ribs. The sound is clean but gloomy, speaking to a hardcore-informed take on The Buzzcocks or The Adverts, or a more highly-strung iteration of The Wipers and their latterday torchbearers. Terse, choppy rhythms, clipped yelps and glinting melodies tend to be the order of the day, but every once in a while the band spool out the wire and get a bit more expansive, as on tracks like ‘Creative Seizure’ or ‘Drifter’. Much as I admire their simpler, punkier numbers it’s these latter elements that I’d really like to see teased out if and when the band release a follow-up – maybe it’s just the MC-Escher-gone-Voivod artwork, but I have a feeling that the band could go deeper and weirder yet when it comes to spiralling, spitefully tuneful rock ‘n roll.
