Three tracks of ridiculously snotty, ridiculously catchy punk rock from guys who look to wear sunglasses no matter how dark the club is. Guitar licks are delivered like slashes from a straight razor and the vocals take the concept of sneering to its logical creative conclusion, with everything seemingly held together by snot, spit and safety pins. It’s the kind of stuff that could feasibly have been made at any point in the past 45 years, but possessed of such skill and conviction that it feels timelessly alive rather than retrograde. Excellent!
