"To Be Continued…" continues where "Cross To
Bear" left off in '01, strengthening the bridge between ol' schoolin' rants
and rowdiness and barstool blow outs in the finest sea town tradition. Yes,
Pressure Point puts an immense load on the still recovering listener seeking a
means of escape from cartoonish fiends and sugar coated scabs of a sun and surf
scandalists with a vein obsession; But then, GMM does what it does and PP's not
about watering down the drink. A writhing combination of Street Punk sincerity
and Hard to the core rage, red faced rants like "Links On The Chain"
and "Face In The Mirror," off two first hand examples of speed, skill,
and setting the record straight; "Drinkin' With The Damned" is a call
out to a lost soul in a traditionally toast raising spirit; "This Is Sacto"
is pure English Dogs…
"Take It Back" ups the octane another level with a
scathing riff and catchy chord progression, Thrash-like with an undeniably
"OI" appeal; Fans of the non-successful Rancid period will tear a
chunk out of this for the comparatively newer breed, others will draw blood from
ol' standbys like fellow anthemic outlaw neck throttling thrill seekers, Blood
For Blood, The Distillers, Anti Heroes, The Forgotten, Reducers… shit, a touch
of the ol' Agnostic might be pulled somewhere from the wattage if you listen
carefully enough and manage not to pop a drum.
Every once in a while PP throws the unexpected slider, as
though two guys named Nate in the same band weren't enough to leave you head
scratching, they're doing some porch front, heartland kinda opening on "The
Great Divide" which is a sort of Neil Young going down to die before
busting into a full bore drinking song; And they've got the eye for history as
on "The Ballad Of Richard Davis" digging deep into the union vaults
for another look; Great use of fast riffing and harmonial interplay (harmonial?
Fuck it, it works) and so chalk another one up for the two guitar player models,
and the "whoa oh oh's" that lend an extra voice to the idea of shut up
and listen, we're not The Misfits, goddammit, we're fucking bombs, bottles,
flames, bones and brotherhood and all that other kind of hyperintensive fun shit
you can sing about waiting for the sun to come up!
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