From Pressure Point to Whiskey Rebels to bare knuckle brawling
and a bottle o' 90 proof to wash it down… The "Sacto" scene appears
the latest in a regional uprising that finds a flurry of Punks foaming with
pride and power. Got about four or five too many down this problematic road of
self-titled repression and self-indulgence that follows a resistant and rasied
in ruins philosophy that's like a fucking rolling pin doing a job along your
spinal column before finally you succumb to the idea no matter how hard you try,
you'll never find the answer for the reduced rate of tourism in Sacra-fucking-mento,
California anyway… so turn 'em louder, pour more salt in the wounds and let's
git on wit it! Most of the record's got a fiery style of early day take to the
street with clubs in hands, sneer on face and a wake of broken bottles, windows
and blue coats gaining this UK golden age thing where every other sentence
screams like "Alternative, Alternative" like times ten and over and
again, so yeah, where pride goes, generations follow.
These guys are youthful discontent personified that takes the cue from once
and former club fighters Blood For Blood, with maybe an extra ounce of Agnostic
aggression and a little of Murphy's Irish in and around the finger raising
cliché and "we're fucked up" front. The "Whiskey Rebels,"
is an offshoot from the time of the great Whiskey Rebellion which first made
headlines in a still green America a couple centuries ago and… score one for
the good guys, eh? Now it's one thing to learn from history; it's another to
base your entire existence on a court ruling of the late eighteenth century…
but noble drinkers we are, robbery's robbery, and denial's another issue for
those of a sounder mind than we'd like to think we possess.
What this all means quite simply is who fucking cares, keep the keg pumping.
In the finest foot to the floor tradition, they go heavy on the choral unity to
really bring it home-pick on any number of rise above rebel anthems-"Sacto
United," "Streets Gave You To Me," "Let Freedom Ring,"
hey, and when you toss in rapid fire riffing and double duty Nate's to again
carry the flow- something I swore I never thought I'd see again since Pressure
Point-it's a fairly unbeatable if intoxicating combination of piss, vinegar, and
vehemence.
For an extra kick in the nuts, turn and face stout standouts like
"Invisible," a high speed quickie that's not the lyricist's golden
hour but gets the point across; "Final Call" works in a fight, drink,
die, sort of way; "St. Ides," suggests worship can exist without
parametric limitation; and then there'll be "Mental Health" or
"Agro Wishes," either of which slug it out in a fast pace of fuck
everything, I'm busting out of this hell hole, who's with me? Hey, they lay
their money on the counter and their cards on the table; it's crude, catchy,
drunk and disorderly music for the mosh pit and mob rules mind set, take it or
leave it.
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