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Poison Ruin: Härvest 12” (Relapse Records) From the first time I dropped the needle on Härvest, Poison Ruin’s third record and their first for Relapse, I was smitten. How can you not fall in love with a record that starts with a song as great as “Pinnacle of Ecstasy?” It’s a tour de force, moving from a guitar hook that could have powered an artyfact from the Nuggets era to an equally brilliant main riff to an anthemic chorus and into a heroic lead guitar freakout, moving from part to part with a poise and confidence that runs counter to Poison Ruin’s lo-fi production values. Speaking of which, if you thought moving to Relapse would water down Poison Ruin’s aesthetic, you are mistaken… if anything, Härvest leans on tones that are nastier and gnarlier than their previous records, but the production feels richer and more dynamic than on those releases. A big part of Poison Ruin’s appeal is their sound, a distinctive, cooked-down concoction of anarcho punk, oi!, and classic heavy metal, but even with such a heavy vibe, Härvest’s songs shine. This record takes everything that was so striking about Poison Ruin’s earlier records and just slams the gas pedal to the floor. The hooks are bigger, the riffs more distinctive and memorable, the performances crackle with even more energy, and the lyrical concept and execution is next-level by DIY punk standards. Poison Ruin doesn’t invite easy comparisons, but a good point of reference might be Subhumans. Like Subhumans, Poison Ruin has an identifiable sound and aesthetic and they craft ambitious songs that would lean toward prog’s pretensions if they weren’t so steeped in punk energy and venom. And in that context, Härvest is like Poison Ruin’s The Day the Country Died, where all the elements come together with a rush of excitement as intoxicating as your first drink. I could go into why I love each track on this record, but it’s enough to sayHärvest is a non-stop parade of hits, the work of a brilliant band at the height of their powers. Viva Poison Ruin!

Why Bother?: A City of Unsolved Miseries 12” (Feel It Records) Feel It Records brings us the third full-length in as many years by this Iowa band (they’ve also released a few EPs in there too!). Given their prolific release schedule, lo-fi recordings, and home base in the Midwest, I wouldn't doubt Why Bother? gets a lot of comparisons to Guided by Voices. While that comparison isn’t off-base—I’m sure a GBV fan would find a lot to like in Why Bother?’s music—the band that springs to mind when I listen to A City of Unsolved Mysteries is Hüsker Dü. The singer sounds kind of like Bob Mould, the guitar sounds tend toward the tinny, and my favorite songs feature big, melancholic pop hooks that wouldn’t have been out of place on Zen Arcade or New Day Rising. “Get Used to It” is the best example of this, but even sunnier-sounding tracks like the surveillance anthem “Eyes Everywhere” and the synth-forward “She’s a Vamp” bring to mind the ‘Dü, though perhaps Grant Hart’s songs more than Bob’s. There’s also a killer cover of the Alice Bag Band’s “Prowlers in the Night,” a song you’ll remember from The Decline of Western Civilization. Throughout the record, the songwriting is top-notch, the energy level high, the lo-fi textures innovative and surprising… A City of Unsolved Miseries is a quiet masterpiece, its understated sleeve and modest 300-copy pressing barely hinting at the brilliance in its grooves. If you have a place in your heart for the best late 80s and early 90s indie, give this a listen… if you’re anything like me, it might not blow your mind on the first note, but you’ll think, “that was a fantastic song,” after pretty much every track.

Salvaje Punk: S/T 12” (Toxic State Records) The 2020 demo tape from New York’s Salvaje Punk came and went through the distro way too quickly… I’m not sure I even had time to listen to it, much less digest it, but this debut full-length is not one to miss. This record knocked me on my ass from the second I put it on, and I love it so much that I’ve had trouble making time to listen to much else since it arrived. It’s obvious from the first few seconds what a powerful and fully realized record this is, but despite playing it a ton, I’ve been having trouble figuring out why I love it so much, and I worry I won’t be able to articulate my feelings here. Part of it may be that Salvaje Punk’s style feels fresh. The label’s description calls them “the missing link between No Security and Parabellum,” and me not knowing either of those bands’ records well could contribute to why this feels so fresh for me. The comparison sounds on the money, as Salvaje Punk ground their sound in the rawest and fastest mängel, but while some of those Swedish bands can sound so proficient as to be slightly cold, Salvaje Punk leans on the chaotic and unhinged sound of South American punk and metal for the other big element of their sound. It’s a fine line to walk, but Salvaje Punk has their shit dialed in. It helps that, despite the raw and dirty presentation, the members are top-notch musicians who have the technique and chops to maintain that high level of intensity through an entire full-length. A lot of maximalist hardcore releases like this can be so intense as to be exhausting, wearing on the ear by the end of the record, but Salvaje Punk knows when to shake things up with some wild lead guitar (“Salvaje”) or a punishing death metal breakdown that sounds like it was swiped from Sepultura’s Morbid Visions (“Desconchinflo Global”). And, of course, since it’s a Toxic State release, the packaging is beautiful, handmade, and packed with sick illustrations that look punk as fuck. This record bleeds the urgency, energy, and intensity that I want from punk, and for me it’s one of 2023’s essential releases.

Sial: Sangkar 7” (La Vida Es Un Mus) The last record from Singapore’s Sial, 2021’s Zaman Edan, was a bit of a departure for the band, a two-song single that foregrounded the experimental and psychedelic elements that had bubbled under the surface of their earlier material. Even the artwork was a little different, swapping the paintings by drummer Izzad Radzali Shah that had adorned earlier releases for a black-and-white photograph. On Sangkar, Sial returns to shorter songs, but the experimental tendencies are still there, resulting in a scorching six-song EP that has it all. As with their earlier material, the riffs are excellent, catchy yet brutal in the mode of Destestation-era G.I.S.M., and the rhythms pummeling, particularly when they drop into those S.H.I.T.-style heavy pogo beats. One thing that seems unique to Sial, though, is how they can hit the pause button on the relentless forward motion and drop into these weightless-feeling drone parts for just a moment. It’s like they splice a few bars of Neu! into their hardcore song, and even though they only do this for short stretches on Sangkar, those parts still feel as hypnotic as the best psychedelia, particularly when Sial brings in some auxiliary percussion, as they do to great effect on “Tali,” “Sia-Sia,” and “Mana.” Thanks to this ability, Sial has a unique take on the cycle of tension and release that so many hardcore bands lean on. All this comes together on the brilliant first track, “Tali.” There’s this middle section where the band goes into one of those hypnotic parts (augmented with what sounds like hand bells), building the tension until they drop back into the song’s brilliant main riff, swapping out the verses’ brisk rhythms with a pulverizing mosh beat. For me, that moment is as good as hardcore gets. Sial was a standout band from the jump, but on Sangkar it feels like they’ve found their own voice.

Electric Chair: Act of Aggression 12” (Iron Lung Records) After three phenomenal 7”s, we have the debut 12” from Washington’s Electric Chair. Act of Aggression was recorded nearly two years ago and cassette copies started making the rounds during Electric Chair’s European tour last summer, so many of you won’t be hearing Act of Aggression for the first time when you get the vinyl in your hands. As for me, I took a sneak peek when the record made its way to YouTube a while back, but I’ve been saving myself for the wax to arrive. Now that it’s here, I’ve been playing it over and over, soaking in all this record offers. And even though it’s only about fifteen minutes long, it offers quite a lot! On the first few listens, Act of Aggression reminded me of the first Blood Pressure album in how it takes a band that is already very intense and turns every knob to ten until it feels like there isn’t a cubic centimeter of space remaining. Electric Chair is just wailing on this record, every instrument and the vocals in full-bore assault mode. The record channels Electric Chair’s live sets, which feel like chaotic explosions of energy where anything can happen, where a human body or some other random object might slam into you from any direction. It’s overwhelming at first, and it took a few listens for my ear to make sense of it, but you can listen to what any instrument is doing on any given second of Act of Aggression and find that it is creative, exciting, and awesome. A song like “Security Camera” is almost prog in its complexity, but it’s hardcore punk in its power, precision, and intensity. There’s so much going on that listening can feel like wandering around in the woods blindfolded, and the lack of distinct peaks and valleys contributes to the chaotic feeling… Act of Aggression just keeps coming at you, even ending with a fade-out, which makes it seem like after the engineer stopped recording, the band just kept raging into infinity. Even the vocals are subsumed in the melee… it sounds like they have some sort of effect on them and they’re low in the mix, like the band is playing in a sweaty basement with a shitty PA. It sounds good, but it means you have to look at the insert to get any appreciation for the lyrics, which are excellent, a Darby Crash-esque thoughtful and poetic look at a fucked up world. It’s a great record from a band that feels like it’s at the height of its powers. Given the recording is kind of old and the band has continued to gig since then, I imagine it’s not the last Electric Chair record, but how are they going to top this? That’s a question for another day though, because right now Act of Aggression rules my turntable.

Personal Damage: Atrophy & Entropy 12” (Test Subject Records) Here at Sorry State we’ve been huge fans of LA’s Personal Damage since they released their demo tape back in 2021, carrying that and their two subsequent EPs and giving them strong recommendations in our newsletter. It’s hardly surprising that we like them so much because Personal Damage plays a style of music that’s close to our hearts here… raw, fast, and snotty hardcore in the tradition of the Circle Jerks, Angry Samoans, Adrenalin OD, and even early Screeching Weasel. Personal Damage was great from the jump, but it feels like they’ve done something special with their debut album, Atrophy & Entropy. Musically, there aren’t any left turns from the earlier EPs… it’s a little more diverse in terms of tempo and structure, but moments like their cover of Peter Tosh’s reggae classic “Steppin’ Razor” on their Ambush EP already proved that Personal Damage had a deep bag of tricks. I think the real genius of Atrophy & Entropy is the care and precision with which they put it together. It’s difficult to make a ripping fast punk album that sustains the energy all the way through, but Personal Damage has a masterful command of dynamics, deploying moves like Circle Jerks-esque rhythmic changes, hooky melodies, and infectious call-and-response gang vocals (their real trademark… I can’t think of another band that does this as well as they do) so the energy level seems to rise without end, like one of those MC Escher drawings of an infinitely ascending staircase. It all fits together like fine joinery, grabbing you from the opening hook of “Head First” and not letting go until “End of the Last,” the epic closer that borrows a couple of tricks from Rikk Agnew’s “Section 8.” That sense of everything being in its place extends to the album’s audio production—a master class in crisp, present, and natural-sounding punk recording from Mike Kriebel of Shout Recordings’ Beat Sessions fame—and its visual presentation, including multiple inserts full of awesome illustrations and design to pore over while you’re listening. The depth and power of Atrophy & Entropy makes most of the punk records I own seem half-baked by comparison. If you’re intrigued by the band comparisons I dropped above, then you should give this a shot, but this record is exciting enough that you don’t have to dress like a Shawn Kerri drawing come to life to get into it… anyone who’s even considered getting a mohawk will get a buzz from Atrophy & Entropy.

Brain Tourniquet: An Expression in Pain 12” (Iron Lung Records) While I don’t listen to too much contemporary power violence, I was a big fan of Brain Tourniquet’s first two EPs. Their debut 12”, though, is something else, a record so distinctive and powerful that it transcends that microgenre. An Expression of Pain has a gritty recording that might remind you of the OG power violence classics and the songs feature blastbeats and sludgy slow parts, but everything about the way Brain Tourniquet deploys those elements is inventive and electric. That’s true from the record’s first seconds, when the leadoff track, “Little Children Working,” sounds like hell opening up and demons escaping, reminding me of early Swans with its relentless industrial rhythm. Much of An Expression of Pain recalls Black Flag when they were at their slowest and most musically adventurous, bending Sabbath’s lumbering rhythms against the fulcrum of free jazz’s deliberate evaporation of tonality. It is music that will make your skin crawl. Even when Brain Tourniquet indulges in power violence’s familiar tempo dynamics, they subvert convention, and there isn’t a moment on this record that feels cliche. That’s certainly true on the expansive, album-closing title track, whose 11 minutes feel like an aimless, sun-blistered stumble through the desert… it may leave you wondering whether you hallucinated that bass solo or it really happened. A real masterpiece, and exactly the forward-thinking yet brutal hardcore we want from Iron Lung Records.

Crucified Class: Promo 2023 cassette (Fresh Squeezed) Four songs of catchy hardcore punk from this new band from Portland. On first listen, Crucified Class reminded me of another double C band, Caustic Christ, and that’s high praise from me! Like Caustic Christ, Crucified Class’s sound rides a line between US-style hardcore and UK82 punk, with the latter’s bouncy rhythms and hooky riffs delivered with the former’s heaviness and brisk tempos. It reminds me of North American bands like Toxic Reasons that kind of sounded like UK bands, or UK bands like Ultra Violent that had US hardcore-style elements. I also hear lots of Poison Idea, which comes out both in the straightforward hardcore parts and the more rock and roll-ish riffing that pops up here and there. All four songs are a little different from one another, which I like, and the slightly hazy production is exactly what I want hardcore punk to sound like. Just listen to “Message from a War Cult…” what a track! It goes from this kind of Killing Joke-meets oi! verse to a huge, anthemic chorus that reminds me of Direct Control fist-pumpers like “Plea for Peace,” and even makes room for a wah-wah guitar solo. It doesn’t get much better than this, folks. Whatever this tape is promoting, count me in.

Nag: Human Coward Coyote 12” (Convulse Records) We’ve been carrying records from Atlanta’s Nag since they released their first single in 2017, and over the years they have blossomed into a unique and compelling band. I’ve enjoyed every Nag record I’ve heard, but Human Coward Coyote feels like something new and special. While you can hear traces of the sound that landed them a coveted Total Punk single on tracks like “Camoflage,” Human Coward Coyote sounds unbound by genre. The chunky yet crystalline guitars make me think of 90s alternative rock, and the opener “Phangs” is a semi-dirge that sounds like it could have come from the weirder fringes of the early 90s post-Nirvana underground. “Q Laz” takes the menacing rattle of Wire and early Devo and bathes it in industrial gunk, arriving at something akin to the A Frames’ arty clatter, while the guitar lead at the end of “Repulsion” sounds like a psychedelic come-down. There are also even more experimental tracks like “Kismet,” an instrumental meditation centered on a menacing electronic pulse. So much punk rock gets by on speed, power, and energy, but Nag emphasizes atmosphere here, with delay-drenched guitars and disaffected, robotic vocals setting a scene fit for a 60s dystopian sci-fi novel. Human Coward Coyote’s avoidance of big pop hooks might make it a grower, but the variety and richness of texture here keep your ears wanting more.

Primitive Fucking Ballers: You Gotta Do Somethin’ cassette (Earth Girl Tapes) Just last week I was writing about the Big, Big Wave compilation that documented the unlikely yet captivating punk scene in Hattiesburg, Mississippi, and now that fertile scene gives us another Record of the Week. Presumably Primitive Fucking Ballers hadn’t formed when they recorded the Big, Big Wave compilation, which is a testament to how Hattiesburg continues to kill it. The vibes on this Primitive Fucking Ballers tape remind me of the Fried E/M LP we all loved here at Sorry State… hardcore punk with a heavy Circle Jerks influence and a loose and nihilistic delivery that’s drenched in swagger. That was enough to sell me right off the bat, but the more I listen to You Gotta Do Somethin’, the more I’m knocked out by the music, and the rhythm section in particular. The drumming here is nuts. The best way I can describe it is that it’s like Lucky Lehrer from the Circle Jerks filling in for Gauze. Like Gauze, the different parts of Primitive Fucking Ballers’ songs are often based on different grooves, but the drummer switches between them like they’re changing channels on a TV, each section of the song locked in but very distinct from one another. And like Lucky’s drumming in the Circle Jerks, it’s lightning fast but bursting with intricate rhythmic accents. The bass playing is also great, a dry sound with lots of pluck to it, the deft picking finding tiny pockets of interesting rhythm even within the drums’ relentless torrent. You Gotta Do Somethin’ is raw and vital, its unique mix of intricate conception and unfussy production as volatile and exciting as cold water splashed into hot oil.

The Drin: Today My Friend You Drunk the Venom 12” (Feel It Records) We named the Drin’s first album, Engines Sing for the Pale Moon, Record of the Week in March 2022, and now, less than a year later, their follow-up gets the same honor. The Drin’s first album had such an original voice I was worried some of its charm might have come from an idiosyncratic recording or some other chance confluence of factors. Turns out that wasn’t the case, because Today My Friend You Drunk the Venom carries forward everything I liked about the debut. The Drin’s music still uniquely combines punk, dub reggae, and motorik rhythms filtered through the hazy, lo-fi aesthetics of early Guided by Voices. I’m tempted to draw comparisons to PiL’s first two albums or Joy Division’s more droned-out, Neu!-inspired moments like “No Love Lost” or “Incubation,” but the lo-fi quality and the American-ness of the Drin’s music means those comparisons only go so far. But like those aforementioned bands, as well as the avant-punk/pop music Rough Trade Records released in their early years, pop isn’t a huge part of the equation, yet the songs are catchy and hooky in their way… it’s just those hooks reside in the beefy bass lines and interesting drum rhythms. I also love how much stylistic ground the Drin covers on this record, from the straight up reggae of “Eyes Only for Space” to the motorik punk of “Stonewallin’” (which sounds a lot like Joy Division’s “Transmission”) to “That Day (Azoic),” the poppiest and most vocal-forward song on the album. Today My Friend You Drunk the Venom is a gripping record from start to finish, and an essential listen for anyone whose tastes veer into the experimental fringes of the punk diaspora.

Speed Plans: Statues of God 12” (Iron Lung Records) We’ve carried several releases from Pittsburgh’s Speed Plans over the past few years, but if you haven’t checked them out until now, you’ve arrived to the party just in time. Statues of God is the record you want. I keep seeing the Repos’ name thrown around in relation to this record. Admittedly, that didn’t occur to me right off the bat… instead, I heard similarities to 80s bands like Negative FX, early Agnostic Front, and Youth of Today. But now that I think about it, this sounds a lot like the Repos. Which is to say they sound like the 80s bands I mentioned, but touches like the harmonized guitar leads in “Cleveland” could be deliberate homages to the Repos. I fucking love the Repos (I think I have every single one of their records, which is no mean feat) and I love this, but I don’t think you need to love the Repos in order to love Speed Plans. It’s just a raw, rampaging, nihilistic hardcore punk record, and even though I’ve been listening to this stuff for decades, it still sounds fresh and urgent to me. Maybe that’s because I’m boring or that my tastes aren’t that adventurous, but I prefer to think it’s because Speed Plans is just that good.