Hangover Heart Attack on 7 Seconds

It's not unusual to find assorted blurbs I've written for AMG to end up on MP3 blogs once in a while when the poster wants a quick, easy way to describe the album he's pirating, so stumbling across this one didn't take me aback until I noticed the guy spelled my name wrong. What, you can cut and paste the whole paragraph but not my byline? Fer chrissakes. Anyhow, this is a swell record if you like vintage straight-edge hardcore ... not macho and domineering like East Coast stuff, these pansies were grown in the sandy soil of Nevada, and they would really prefer it if you didn't smoke that joint near them. And why is punk such a boys club, man, I know some really cool girls and they're just as good as us guys ... these are nice kids, they probably practiced at grandma's house. I love these songs, though, they're tuneful on their own terms and while the polka beats are de rigeur, the riffs go off into weird places and there's always a great chant-along chorus of "woah, woah, woah" coming around the corner.

Stay young til you die, kids.
Fred Baldin