This is some of the best hardcore I’ve heard in quite some time. It’s driven with such force, but it takes control of that drive, fully in charge the entire time. It feels natural to go into a breakdown after the balls-out rock that precedes it. And the breakdowns? Damn, they’re heavy. It’s recorded so that it comes together as a band, not individuals, not one overpowering another. It’s dense and filled with so much going on in every track. On my second listen I began wondering how many tracks they had to record to get that complexity. Then I looked at the liner notes. There are eight members. Eight! They have two vocalists, a drummer, two bass players and (count ‘em) THREE guitars! That helped explain things. The packaging is amazing as well: black gatefold with the graphics and text pressed into it. The booklet inside is glossy and filled with these great illustrations. They provide lyrics, thankfully. I’m not so great at deciphering them. They’re on a brief hiatus from shows now, just getting back from touring Europe, but I know I’ll be looking to see them the next time out.

Everything about this SCREAMS '60s slop, but no, just another record by another Queers clone I can use around my toilet as a guard against any potential damage incurred to the floor beneath by drunk, errant-aiming guests that might happen by.

Ack! I want to like this more than I do! I have waited years for this album! The first song (“All the Time in the World”) is classic Parasites pop punk greatness! But then the rest of the album just starts to seem like one long pop song. Ack! Perhaps this album needs two tablespoons more punk rock and a slightly faster tempo! Certainly the cheezy classic Parasites lyrics are there (“When I think of things we’ll never have/It breaks my heart, it hurts so bad.”) But there’s also the less-than-classic (“Nobody’s calling me/I used up my battery/But as soon as it holds a charge/Then my life will start again”). I will give this time for a more thorough evaluation. But right now, if this were a cereal, it’d be Kix. Not bad, but if you’re expecting Lucky Charms, then you’ve got a problem.

British bands of sizable merit who aren’t recorded at Toe Rag Studios are few and far between in this day and age, which is why this doozy by the Parkinsons is so welcome and unexpected. Soldiering on in the almost-forgotten genre of UK Punk Bands With Lots Of Guitars That Don’t Suck, this trio somehow manages to emit four catchy, anthemic, and loud punk rock depth charges that appear to be at least partially motivated by the golden age of Brit Guitar Punk—let’s say the Clash’s second album and the Professionals in theory—without—and this is the important part—sounding like some ridiculous European thing that would be beneath the notice of a reasonable individual. Plus, on the cover, they look like cool guys, so there ya go. The Parkinsons are selling, but who’s buying? I guess i am. BEST SONG: “Heroes and Charmers” BEST SONG TITLE: “New Wave” FANTASTIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT: This record claims to have been recorded live by Johnny Scum on “07/04/2005,” which, to me, seemed impossible, since that would have meant that this record was recorded, mastered, pressed, shipped from England to Razorcake, then forwarded to me in Wisconsin, all in the same month—but then i realized that, in Europe, “07/04” means April 7th, not July 4th, so, like, never mind.

Dr. Strange has the uncanny knack of picking out older bands from the brink of obscurity and releasing top notch material that stands up to their classics. The Partisans are a perfect example. Formed in 1978 by fourteen-year-old kids and English label mates with the newly formed Blitz, the Partisans sounded like an amalgamation of the Professionals, Sex Pistols, Peter and the Test Tube Babies, the Buzzcocks, and most obviously, The Clash. Their first album, self-titled, came out in 1983 (It’s been re-released as Police Story.) The summer of ‘84 saw their second LP, Time Was Right. Then, pow, aside from reissues, nothing until they self-released an EP in 2002. The only strange thing that happened in the interim is that the bassist, Dave Parsons, went on to form Transvision Vamp, then joined Bush, of all bands. 2004’s Idiot Nation pulls it off right. No stutter steps. Nothing tentative. Their roots are solidly in place (it’s punk, not an assy form or new wave or a cringing version of metal), and they don’t sound like geezers with their eyes on a brass check. This record sounds like ‘77 well spring punk. Great melodies, singalongs, and appropriate amounts of coarseness and abrasions. All in all, an extremely satisfying listen. How the hell does Dr. Strange keep doing this?

Mix in the undeniable catchiness of the Teen Idols when Heather sings or does a duet (like the Idols', "Twenty Below") , along with the jumpiness of Hi Standard, and a clear and radiant guitar, you've got Japan's Pear of the West. Female-fronted goodness, and it's pop punk, but in the new mutation that I'm liking so much more. Instead of tapping the pock marked vein of trying to cop what both Screeching Weasel and early Queers did so well, bands seem to be rotating the crops and pulling up the roots of some of the best catchy punk and instilling it with their own dirt and growth to fill in the spaces. Best Japanese to English translation line: "I'm full of drunk." Cool.

I remember not liking this album much back when it first came out. My biggest gripe back then was that the intensity that fueled Mating Sounds of South American Frogs was largely absent, leaving some lackluster pop songs with a tinge of a punk edge. While I think that assessment might’ve been a little harsh, I still don’t think, fifteen years later, I was that far off the mark. It’s very true that there’s a decided lack of “oomph” to the proceedings and some of the tracks here are obviously filler, but there are some good songs to be found here as well, most notably “Keys to the City” and “Spirit of Keith Moon,” either of which almost make this worth the green and the inclusion of assorted B-sides and live tracks, however, further sweeten the deal considerably.

More straightforward in approach than Soberphobia, this has more balls while still managing to keep their trademark repetitive guitar leads and poppy hooks intact. While not quite as crucial as their earlier material, there’s some mighty fine work to be found here, especially “Let’s Do Lunch,” which I’d love to blast full bore out the window of the building in downtown Los Angeles where I work. Good listening.

Let’s not forget the context. With this recent influx of bands that, when described, “folk” and “punk” come up in the same sentence, the Haints have been hard at work and play for years. It’s this seasoned, large-brush approach that illustrates how big a force the Haints have become musically and how broad-scoped Ghost Dance really is. It’s like walking into your favorite roadside restaurant during a long drive. Generous portions. Diverse, but down home menu. Expertly spiced, simple food. Well-worn linoleum, but sparkling clean. Wonderful, personal service, no forced grins or minimum amounts of flare enforced. Ghost Dance is, thankfully, long. Twenty songs gives them time to set the stage, fill your head, and take you to their home, which is as much a time as a place. It’s a collection of original pieces, a Riverboat Gamblers cover, and traditionals revisited. And then it struck me, something that’s been staring me in the face for some time. The Haints are to the South what the Pogues are to Ireland. Not only do they have a deep respect of what came before—and their musicianship is as impeccable as it is diverse (mandolin, washtub bass, banjos, and bodhran)—but they tap into that originating spirit so much, they can’t help themselves from reshuffling the deck and lighting small fires under themselves so they don’t get asphyxiated by the past. This record’s like watching a fire all night. Crackles and blazes giving away to smoldering and smoking, and the next morning, its memory is still being carried around in your clothes. Fantastic.

This, apparently, is a re-release of their first album with tracks from a single and a radio ad tacked on for good measure. The music is crazed, chaotic trash rock that causes headaches in all the right ways.

This is a case of influences outshining a band’s own vision. The songs on “Under Your Hat” sound like rip offs of Pinhead Gunpowder and early Green Day. Don’t get me wrong—I love all that music—it’s just that this album keeps me turning to the CD player and wondering, “Is that Billy Joe Armstrong?” which makes these songs too derivative. This pop punk album does have some catchy tunes. “Twist and Fall” is worth a listen. The drums are upfront, upbeat, and pounding throughout the tracks. My gut tells me this band would put on an amazing live show. Perhaps, on stage, they would represent a little more of their own sound? (Eunuch, www.myspace.com/pbp)

Plexi 3 play garagey power pop with female vocals and some girl group dramatics. Power pop requires a fine balance of, well, power and pop. The main problem with this album is that it needs more of both. It’s just not quite catchy enough to make up for how little it rocks. I’d like to see this band live. I bet they’re more energetic on stage, and they probably play in places with shitty PAs that mute the grating vocals. This sounds like the work of a band that is not quite ready to do a full-length, so I’m giving Plexi 3 a vote of confidence. The songs that the drummer wrote are fucking catchy, and they covered the Everly Brothers. Let’s hope that they stick around long enough to capitalize on the potential shown.