Just when you think Bart De Vraantijk has finally run out of riffs, another 7″ appears. Brats Being Brats lands on Big Neck Records and does exactly what the title promises: no reinvention, no sudden prog ambitions, just more of that glorious budget-bin Ramonescore that Bart and the Brats have turned into an art form.
These songs have that classic BatB trick of sounding like they were written in about five minutes and somehow sticking in your head for days. The guitars buzz, the drums shove everything forward, and before you know it you’re halfway through the record wondering why a song that dumb is suddenly the thing you’ve been humming while making coffee.
If you’ve enjoyed previous BatB releases, you already know the deal: fast, catchy, slightly dumb in the best possible way, and impossible not to pogo to.
Dennis will return shortly from a well-deserved break from work and blogging. But until that moment, I am taking full liberty to write about fast and loud music that will probably make him face palm, shake his head, and question some of my life choices.
Like the new Wreckage LP! My oh my, does this crew from Connecticut know exactly what works and what does not in hardcore punk. The label drops names like Judge, Uniform Choice, and Statue. The reference points heard by this blogger: Carry On and In My Eyes.
Classic old-school hardcore fury packed into a modern frame, with some seriously unexpected rock detours thrown into the mix. That final 80 seconds of Turn The Page? Absolutely not something you would expect to hear on a hardcore record. But damn if it does not work. And it is far from the only guitar blowout on the record. Honestly, it makes me appreciate Wreckage even more.
Wreckage is one kickass band, no doubt about it. Fast, loud, and clearly not interested in playing it safe. Out now on 12″ through Scheme Records.
Before we start, let’s make one thing clear: we love Cruelster. I cannot emphasize that enough. The reason? We are about to put the spotlight on a band that contains all but one member of Cruelster, and THE CARP themselves have stated that the feelings of said member, Alex, might get hurt by people raging about THE CARP.
And we would obviously never want that. Causing emotional damage to Alex is not something we take lightly.
Then again, there is a song called Fuck Alex Karp, and my intelligence is unsure whether this is actually about said Alex or a different Alex and whether his feelings are safe after all. A complicated situation that requires a level of investigation far beyond the scope of this write-up.
So perhaps I should remain Schwiss here. Neutral. Careful. Completely unable to pick a side in this extremely delicate matter. I would hate for Alex to wake up tomorrow and discover that a small music blog has caused a personal crisis.
That said, if you are a fan of Cruelster, you may (or may not) like THE CARP as well. THE CARP sounds a little less unhinged, perhaps, but subtlety is still very much not at play here. It is punk though, and it is out on Total Punk Records.
I am fairly certain no human beings were harmed in the creation of this write-up. Alex’s feelings remain unknown. Now go listen to THE CARP. Or Cruelster. Or both.
I’m usually a firm believer that folk and punk should leave each other well alone. Every now and then, though, a band chips away at that conviction. Pigeon Pit did. Seattle queer indie punks Worms In Dirt do too. The band first popped onto our radar in 2024, and this week they returned with their second album.
I Almost Touched a Fish races through ten songs in twenty plus minutes, hopping between indie folk punk, indie pop, and a handful of acoustic moments where the fiddle gets plenty of room to shine. It’s folk by implication, functioning like an undercurrent that quietly shapes the mood. Worms In Dirt have far more in common with a band like Radiator Hospital than Flogging Molly. And on a personal note, thank heaven for that.
This is a charming record that wins you over one song at a time. Completely DIY, completely unpretentious, and all the better for it.
When a band calls itself Handgrenade Hearts, names its debut album Pull The Pin, and puts the title in giant pink letters next to heart-shaped hand grenades, what does your brain immediately expect?
Ding ding ding! If you guessed glam-punk rock ‘n’ roll, give yourself a prize.
Pull The Pin delivers exactly that, and then some. You may remember Handgrenade Hearts from last December’s excellent So Fresh compilation. With sixty five (!) bands on that release, it’s understandable if they slipped past you, but their contribution Generationappears here as well and still sounds like a lost classic someone forgot to tell us about. In fact, I had to double-check whether Handgrenade Hearts were really a 2026 band. They look like they should still be getting asked for ID at venues.
All twelve songs are original compositions recorded this year in their hometown of Melbourne, which for a while now has been the answer to every question that starts with “where are all these great underground bands coming from?”
Generationis far from the only instant earworm. Cold Heart has a chorus that feels familiar in the best possible way (“You have a cold, cold heart / Yes, you do”), while Handgrenade Hearts itself works as the band’s own mission statement disguised as a singalong anthem. Then there are the gloriously punked-up rushes of I Feel Alright and Confusion, which hit with the kind of sleazy energy that makes you want to knock over a drink and start a band.
I’ve been banging on about the current rock ‘n’ roll renaissance all year, and Handgrenade Hearts have arrived to claim the glam-stained, leather-jacketed corner of it. Good times!
Pull The Pin is out now on LP through Love Soldier Records.
Then came another surprise: Florida Water Blues, announced and released with almost no warning. And after spending time with it, I suspect Blame The Clown was less the destination and more a scenic detour. This new record feels like the album Twisted Teens had been building toward all along.
WhereBlame The Clown embraced looseness, odd turns, and a box-of-gems unpredictability, Florida Water Blues is tighter, more focused, and loaded with songs that seem engineered to lodge themselves in your brain. The tempos stay lively, the hooks arrive fast, and the lyrics continue to sound like they were pulled from some half-remembered piece of Southern folklore. “You can drink that Florida Water and go blind” is exactly the kind of line only Twisted Teens could make sound both ominous and ridiculously catchy.
Cas P. Ian remains one of the most distinctive vocalists operating anywhere near the underground, while RJ Santos threads pedal steel and slide guitar through these songs with the confidence of someone who knows precisely when to add beauty, when to add sadness and when to add danger.
Most importantly, Florida Water Blues captures the thing that made me obsessed with Twisted Teens in the first place. They take folk, blues, punk, garage rock, country, and old-time music and turn it into something that feels both ancient and brand new. The debut was a revelation. Blame The Clown was a reputation builder. Florida Water Blues sounds like a band realizing just how big this strange, sweaty, spellbinding thing they’ve created can become.
And apparently the madness isn’t slowing down. Another Twisted Teens record is already on the way in a couple of months. I learned that, and a lot more, from a fantastic Paste Magazine feature on Cas P. Ian and RJ Santos. The impressive thing is that the article doesn’t demystify the band at all. If anything, it makes the whole Twisted Teens universe even more fascinating.
Florida Water Blues is out now on Going Underground Records
I had July 17 marked on my calendar for the release of the new Windowsill LP. Then it quietly appeared on the streaming services this Friday. Cheeky bastards, those four Dutch pop-punk lifers. With the sun out, though, they’re basically giving us exactly what we want: a dozen catchy songs to blast out of open car windows and apartment windows alike.
They even included Roll Down Your Window, which practically encourages calling in sick and spending the day outside. It’s one of the faster cuts on the record and really should be consumed while moving. Go Back Home is another song built for motion, although this time the destination is, well, going back home. I can relate.
For the number crunchers:Es War Eine Verrückte Zeit is The Windowsill’s fifth full-length and contains twelve songs. The German title is an amusing choice for a Dutch band and raises questions. The songs immediately distract you from asking them. Because musically, the record delivers exactly what longtime fans hope for.
Just like Focus(2022), it proves that nearly two decades into their existence, The Windowsill aren’t releasing albums simply to stay active, or because being in a band is a socially acceptable way to avoid adult responsibilities for a few hours. They’re still chasing their best work. There is no sign of boredom or complacency here. In fact, few songwriters are currently writing mid-paced pop-punk hooks as consistently strong as Marien Jonkers. Better Days is the clearest evidence: an effortless earworm with the kind of upbeat energy that makes you hit replay before the song has fully faded out.
Every now and then I wonder whether I’ll ever outgrow this style of pop punk. Es War Eine Verrückte Zeitprovides a definitive answer: probably not.
Out now on Shield Recordings and also available through Brassneck Records (UK), Endless Detention Records (AUS), and Mom’s Basement Records (USA). Jawohl!
What OP ED lack in money -they’re apparently scraping by in Los Angeles- they make up for with a gloriously snotty strain of garage punk that sounds like there’s something on the line. Preferably a tiny underground label willing to press these songs onto vinyl before somebody else gets there first.
The band describe themselves as “The Kinks on speed,” and honestly, they might be underselling it. The four songs on E.P., which I believe is their debut, feel beamed in from the ’70s: catchy enough to get stuck in your head, but rough around the edges in the way that makes you worry someone might knock over a microphone stand or knocks his guitar neck in your face before the song ends. Think pop hooks wrapped in sandpaper.
If this is what OP ED sound like while scraping by, imagine the damage they could do with a proper recording budget. Then again, maybe let’s not find out. I am liking this plenty already!
I think every release by Copenhagen’s twee punks Josie has made the Wantlist so far, and for good reason. We firmly believe in punks playing pop and pop kids making punk, and few bands blur that line as effortlessly as Josie.
The title track Oh Boy! nudges Josie’s songwriting in a slightly different direction. Across three minutes, the band plays with quiet-loud dynamics, fast-slow shifts, and the push and pull between newfound subtlety and their wonderfully scrappy instincts. It’s the kind of song that sneaks up on you, sounding better with every spin.
Then they turn around and do the exact opposite. The Story Of A Fool (As Told By The Fool Herself) tears by in just ninety seconds, seemingly asking one simple question: how fast can you go and still write a perfect underground pop song? The answer, apparently, is really fast.
The Oh Boy! 7-inch is out now on Precious Recordings of London.
Remember when Dr. Frank and The Mr. T Experience practically trademarked Songs About Girls? Well, it’s 2026. Dating is in a recession, birding is somehow cool among Gen Z, and Canadian pop punks AVEM have impeccable timing with their second LP: fifteen Songs About Birds.
Who needs another pop punk anthem about getting dumped, getting back together, driving past your ex’s house, or wondering why they never texted back? Give me mealworms. Give me songs watching an injured bird and not being able to help it (“we see you screaming silently oh yeah, there is nothing we can do, but watch you.”). Give me scavenging a cadaver from the inside out, stalking prey, worrying about extinction, or the exhaustion that comes with building a nest (“Get up, get to work, do the thing, finish up, rinse and repeat”).
Sure, it could all be a metaphor for the human condition. But honestly, I hope it isn’t.
The gimmick would wear thin in lesser hands. AVEM make it soar.
I already loved their debut, not least because it came on Birdshit Splatter vinyl. But this self-titled follow-up is a step up in every department. The choruses stick longer. Fifteen songs disappear before you’ve had time to think about pressing pause. Fans of Teenage Bottlerocket, The Lillingtons, and the golden age of Fat Wreck will eat this up.
So… is it too early to declare Songs about Birds the new Songs about Girls?
AVEM is out now through an international team-up between Bearded Punk, Bloated Kat, Faster and Louder, and Scuderi Ducali.
