Watts - The Black Heart Of Rock-N-Roll
We clearly have a rock’n’roll crisis on our hands. Nobody goes to shows unless it’s some kind of bullshit festival, and everybody just keeps buying the same Pink Floyd record over and over again. Rock is in a steep decline and, who knows, maybe it’ll be as dead as disco in a few years. But the beauty of Watts is that they don’t care.
The Black Heart Of Rock-N-Roll is what rock would sound like if it still ruled the airwaves. It reeks of triumph. It’s 1974 by way of 1987, and it’s just fucking sailing through the goddamn air on golden wings, man, without a care in the world. Watts have been around, one way or an other, for decades. They are stone-cold professionals when it comes to writing hook-heavy, guns-blazing, shirts-off, hard-core rock’n’roll songs, and this album is full of ‘em. Honestly, this might be our last shot at returning to former glories, so don’t blow it. (8⁄10)
Zig Zags - Running Out Of Red
You remember Fu Manchu? Buncha drug casualties boiling away in the desert, playing thick ropy 70s riffs and writing songs about their van over and over. Well, Zig Zags are Fu Manchu if they had to take the bus. This is the sound of the teenage wasteland, a glorious howl of cold pizza, disposable lighters and home-made ‘Zoso’ tattoos on the ankles of petty criminals. (7⁄10)
Five Black Bullets - Dirty Boys Of The Underground
It’s 2016 and Five Black Bullets are writing songs about wanting to fuck their eighth grade teacher and whoever else crosses their path, really, set to a motley stew of classic glammy hard rock. Imagine Skid Row, loosely translated from Spanish. They’re definitely not kidding with that album title. (6⁄10)
The Pinx - Freedom
This might be the first album in this column that’s got an accordion on it. But don’t worry, it’s the most badass accordion you’ve ever heard. Atlanta dope’n’rollers The Pinx return with a ridiculously self-assured slab of southern-simmered thunderboogie that would make the perfect soundtrack for a dangerously reckless summer. (7⁄10)
The Balls - The Balls
They’re from Melbourne and they’re called The Balls, so how do you think this sounds? It sounds like a bunch of Australians with beards and a closet full of black T-shirts, beating their instruments into mush after arguing over who’s better, AC/DC or Motörhead, for seven hours straight. If you’re looking for balls, believe me, The Balls have balls. (6⁄10)
