The Bronx (2003)
7.5
Heart Attack American / False Alarm / White Tar / Cobra Lucha / They Will
Kill Us All (without Mercy) / I Got Chills / Gun Without Bullets / Notice
of Eviction / Kill My Friends / Strobe Life / Los Angeles
If
it had been released in 1990, when I was 15 and thirsty for caustic rock 'n'
roll that would kick my ass and let me focus my anger on people and things,
I would've loved this album to pieces. It's an undeniably incendiary little
30 minute-album, it wears its influences (unpretentious punk, garage, some
hard rock and angular hardcore) on its sleeve yet manages to display an own
identity, the singer is a pissed-off motherfucker in the tradition of possessed
punk vocalists (whether it's Henry Rollins, Jello or even the Murder City
Devils' Spencer Moody, for instance) and foams at the mouth with rage and
indignation. Nowadays, I'm still fond of the relentlessly energetic punk/hardcore
I listened to at the time (Black Flag, Dead Kennedys, Circle Jerks, Bad Brains,
etc), because those bands managed to keep the momentum going, even though
its enemies would over and over again stress the limitation of its discourse.
I didn't have that with The Bronx. It kicks off terrifically with "Heart
Attack American," which is louder and angrier than The Datsuns or The Hives
could ever hope to be, with an almost insane tempo, Matt Caughthran's screamed
vocals and a middle finger to anyone even thinking about getting' in their
way, but the album rarely succeeds in giving you that sense of wonder and
excitement again. Joby Ford's guitar work remains pretty amazing throughout
the album, the energy level remains in the red (songs like "Gun Without Bullets"
and "Kill My Friends" nearly don't fit on a shiny disc), but when I'm halfway
the record, I'm always being confronted with its monotony. It's just too
much of the same thing. The "Baby's got cancer, looking for the answer"-parts
from "White Tar" stand out, and so does the AC/DC-meets-Fugazi grenade
(there's really no other way I can describe it) "False Alarm), but during
the album's second half, the songs become more similar and, yes, almost interchangeable.
The end of the album manages to offer something different, as "Strobe Life"
has more in common with The Constantines than the New Bomb Turks, while the
cover of X's "Los Angeles" is faithful, but powerfully executed. Ideally suited
of you prefer your punk rock scathingly hot and rigidly straightforward, but
perhaps a bit too narrow if you're not a total addict, The Bronx' highlights
get you some kick-ass instant gratification.