Per completar la santíssima trinitat, viatjam ara fins a Nova Zelanda, concretament a Auckland i ens empassam la tercera entrega de garatge punk rock, aquesta en trossets de ben curta durada però directes a s'estómac. Res més a dir que genials en el seu estil. Avui horabaixa ben divertit!!
Punk really isn’t dead. I’m not talking post-card mohawk-bullshit punk – that can, generally, go fuck itself. But garage-punk with irreverent humour and thrashy-trashy-skuzz-pop melodies and social commentary lives on with the likes of The Raw Nerves – and their new Bob Frisbee recorded EP.
Opening with the line “Saw that girl in New Idea / Now I’m scared of serious drugs”; Rory sounds, in moments at, I think his vocal finest and reminiscent of Pete Shelley. Then there’s the brilliantly weird guitar solo smack in the middle of the opening track which is teetering on genius – not to mention the poppy “ooooh’s” backing up the couplets “I don’t get shot in the face / I don’t wanna OD” – just brilliant! Fuck Brooklyn isn’t the shortest song on the EP at 59 seconds – it is, though, invigorating and those three syllables recall Rock Lobster for me.
Not Gonna Try, the longest song, and EP centre point at 2min39 is a brattish punk tongue-in-cheek ode to apathy in the finest of punk-traditions. Then they get punk-do-wapped with their song of heart-break That Rapper Stole His Girlfriend – brilliant – before the uncompromising and thrashed Popularity closes the EP off with 40 seconds of joyous hell. (Cheese on toast)