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Dwarves: The Dwarves Are Born Again

Rock’n’roll’s really lost its will to provoke over the past couple of decades. They just don’t make ugly, sexist, violent, tragically-nude loser creeps like El Duce and GG Allin anymore. And that’s what makes this welcome return-to-form from San Francisco porno-punks the Dwarves so much fun. It’s mean-spirited, morally reprehensible, and rotten to the core, just the way we like ‘em. Middle-age has done nothing to soften the Dwarves’ black-gloved blows, and fuzzy, fizzy two-minute hate-bombs like You’ll Never Take Us Alive and It’s A Wonderful Life Of Sin sound as snotty and gnarly as the stuff they did 20 years ago. And if that’s not enough, this splendorous set comes with a bonus DVD stuffed balls-deep with videos, live shit, interviews, naked girls, and raw violence. You couldn’t ask for more. Hate your neighbours? Give this to their kids. They’ll probably burn down the house before the weekend is out. Long live rock n’ roll’s most enduring (and endearing) gang of assholes. (⁸⁄₁₀)

Greenhaven: In Memory of Bull Angus

A tasty, greasy, two-fisted helping of mud-guzzling death-boogie from Arizona’s highest desert warriors. Given their unmistakable backporch twang I am tempted to call what Greenhaven do a sort of mutant warthog southern rock. But not southern like Skynyrd. More like Texas Chainsaw Massacre, only with less blood and more booze. (⁶⁄₁₀)

Heavy Glow: Midnight Moan

Hot on the heels of last year’s notably scuzzy Filth And Fury EP, San Diego’s cough syrup kings return for another dose of woozy shroom-blooze. A full-lengther this time Midnight Moan expands on Glow’s Cream-y fuzzdozer dynamics, tossing in some howling 70’s grunt-rock flourishes. A little Purple, a little Cactus, and a heap of early Heep. Splendidly ‘eavy. (⁶⁄₁₀)

Old Fashion Ladies: Old Fashion Ladies

Remember Bolan back in his maybe-losing-it era? With the disco and the lasers and the TV show? Well, this EP sounds like that, only with stun-gun guitars, romping-stomping choruses, and Stones-y swagger. Nancy Sinatra loves these dandified Frenchies – they bash out a delightfully garish take on Boots – and, unless you’re some kind of maudite vache, you will too. (⁷⁄₁₀)

Swilson: Demonology

This lone-wolf Satan rocker writes hooky, minute-long acid-punk jams about stealing chickens and wearing polyester pants and records them in a (probably) haunted shed with a 14-year-old girl drummer and her Zappa-esque dad. You get what’s happening here? If Roky Erickson was a character in Fast Times At Ridgemont High, he’d be Swilson. (⁸⁄₁₀)

Came from the sky like a 747. Classic Rock’s least-reputable byline-grabber since 2003. Several decades deep into the music industry. Got fired from an early incarnation of Anal C**t after one show. 30 years later, got fired from the New York Times after one week. Likes rock and hates everything else. Still believes in Zodiac Mindwarp and the Love Reaction, against all better judgment.