Saw a lad in a Flex t-shirt on my local high street yesterday and thought “I should write some stuff about that Flex 7″ because it’s a bit good.” This is a true story about how inspiration can strike suddenly and unexpectedly, just like that. No need to thank me for the insight: it’s on the house. Anyway, The Flex play hardcore. Yobby, gobby hardcore. Tuff stuff which worships at the altar of early 80s Boston (place/scene rather than band, not that the band was having a particularly fruitful period between ’78 and ’86 so you shouldn’t have been mistaken, really). There’s a whiff of oi in there as well, but that almost goes without saying for this kind of stuff at the moment. It sounds like clenched fists, gritted teeth, bulging veins in the middle of foreheads and the deadest of dead eyes. Six songs, all good, and I like that their ‘theme song’ sounds a bit like Negative Approach having a crack at ‘Ain’t No Feeble Bastard’. There’s an album, too: maybe I’ll review that a year too late as well.