Omega Cinco, "El vecino del quinto"

Lisping Spanish psychos ride the SD–BCN axis of anomie. Italiano and the boys package inchoate noise tropes into the tightest thinkable Gravity manqué. Before, E-150; after, (The) Cheese–Les Aus; briefly, Omega Cuatro. Something for everyone, and some of the best there has ever been.

"El vecino del quinto"

Snack Truck, "Peyote"

Warped collage rock from the James River rapids. Two Ultra Dolphins meld '70s-metal flourishes with jabbering, eccentric post-HC until the floor caves at 0:44, rolling out an unshakable, ineffable groove — what specialists would call a game-changer. They never recover, and that's just fine.

"Peyote"

BRUNCH: Fujicolor

Jackfruit violence. Chaotic in the best sense, octaves raining down on the populace, voices quickly growing hoarse. Odd-time hiccups spruce up but don't convolute the structure, punctuated by a few epic moments of conflict resolution. The third track, meanwhile — in name, at least — implicates Kellogg's in the global emo armageddon. From Battle Creek to Klang Valley: who knew?

"Disappointed People with Sentimental Error"
"Captain Oh Captain, My Life Exploded"
"Crackle Noise in Your Violent Breakfast"
"Your Own Blood Are Not Enough Paying"

The Reactionaries, "Cheap False Teeth"

Portside corndogs — before, not after. The Boon–Watt dialectic is at work, with Hurley around for moral support, but it's sublated by a fourth wheel, Martin Tamburovich of New Alliance, and held in thrall by the prevailing '77 blueprints. This surviving shed session holds more than artifactual interest, but it also lacks any of the outcast-funk provocations of which history lessons are made.

"Cheap False Teeth"

Artificial Peace, "Wasteland"

Flexible rent-a-core from the crabgrass frontier. Bethesda boys give the lie to harDCore's underclassy alias, in the process assembling a more credible immanent critique. The sentiment may be commonplace, but its expression above 200 b.p.m. wasn't yet.

"Wasteland"

BRUNCH: Ottawa

Husky crustwork from Current's id. Essential side from hardcore's roaring '90s describes one alternative to the enmetaling enshrined by Jihad on the flip. Ottawa broadcasts a fierce but freewheeling urgency, the careful articulation of speed with sludge, and an "emotional" discipline, especially in "Victim of Dedication," that many contemporaries altogether missed: anguish, but not arrhythmia.

Ottawa/Jihad

The Sleaze, "Smokin' Fuckin' Cigs"

Bored teenagers strip down, light up, go Cockney. The perverse reversal — which is to say, unqualified acceptance — of the Fashionable Idiots credo lends a hyperreal sheen to every trope we've digested and then expelled from the system. Absurdly flawless: 111 seconds of suspended disbelief.

"Smokin' Fuckin' Cigs"

Cuddle Machines, "Bombast"

Plucky bass-driven punk rock nears end of days. Kings County know-it-alls mobilize impeccable influences — Big Boys, Skull Kontrol for starters — and hit purée. More than a touch of Minutemen dapples the batter, and the Spiv sass factor is never far, but it doesn't feel citational, just equipped. One more time with feeling?

"Bombast"

BRUNCH: Kuma

Surf-and-turf novella: must love bears. Bedtime travelogue, precious but never smug, confirms all roads lead to Portland. Bikes, kittens, freshwater fish all stop by, each track a tightly focused exposition of the ursine everyday. Bright-eyed honey pop, ages 2 and up.

"Hello, My Name Is Kuma"
"I Like Salmon"
"My Little Sister, Haruko"
"Broken Bike"
"Working Is Tough"

McCarthy, "Charles Windsor"

Soufflé-light regicide from the left of Raymond Williams. The least dialectical statement on I Am a Wallet, or the least subtle, insofar as it lunges for a public figure and the not the commodity form writ large. Still fiercer, indeed more material, than anything on ethereal Sarah, the other last best hope ca. perestroika. Just can't wait to be king.

"Charles Windsor"