A right wrong ‘un, and also a right odd ‘un. On the face of it, Big Break should be a simple concern: they are a punk band, and they shout a lot. But as ragged and hit-you-in-the-head-with-a-wrench as it all is, there’s a strange artfulness at play. For one thing, you can’t entirely pin them down. There’s a bit of modern-day Australia in the wiry snap of it all (think Split System, Stiff Richards, stuff like that) and a good dose of the aggro, near-hardcore garaginess of Total Punk bands like Lysol and Buck Biloxi. But then there’s some unsteady surf guitar, and a sort of observational, sick-of-modern-life quality that I associate with Thee Headcoats, Suburban Homes and fellow Wrong Speedies The Mute Servants. It bucks and it kicks and it rants about ‘computer phones’, but it also baffles and wrongfoots. The excellent closing track ‘Yes Goddess’ rather sums the whole thing up: the switch from dry, propulsive post-punk to vituperative violence is sudden and unexpected, and thrilling every single time you hear it.
