First off, I oughta mention that the Gunfight is, easily, the toughest looking band I’ve seen since late 70’s Rose Tattoo. Ok, so they’re mostly deep-fried skater boyz from way back when, but they wear their rock n’ roll rebellion well - scars, tattoos, wrinkles, used leather, thousand yard stares, sneers, the works. As the name implies, the Gunfight is the latest punk rock supergroup from US Bombs/Hunns main-man Duane Peters, the gravel voiced king of Cali-punk. The Hunns are on hold while Corey Parks pursues her life-long dream of going on a robbing/killing/Karate chopping spree in the desert with a couple loosey-goosey go-go dancers in hot rods, so Duane took the two weeks off to forge this 6 man six-shooter of a rock n’ roll wrecking ball. Besides Peters, there’s members of the equally tough and unbreakable Exploding Fuck Dolls, plus a Spent Idol or two on deck, so it should come as no surprise when I tell you that the Gunfight sounds like Duane and a bunch of his barroom brawling blood brothers bashing out a quick twenty minutes of 2-chord gruff-punk with melodic, Social-Distortion-esque hooks and plenty of hooligan sloganeering.

The “DPG” is a quick and dirty collection of dead man’s ditties, and while tracks like “Hell Mary” (“They’re killin’ babies!”) and “War With You” (“You wanna war with me? I wanna war with you!”) are pure punk venom, fueled on moral outrage and creaky old Oi! records, for the most part, the album is more pogo-party than riot act. “Marry Me” is two minutes worth of Foster Brooks*-style drunken slurring, and “Last Cowboy” has a chorus that goes “He’s just a horse thief/ He’s 1861”, so it’s pretty safe to say that this is not the most serious-minded, politically-driven punk band Peters’ has ever put together. On the basis of these crunchy fighting songs, I'd say the Gunfight is really just about a night of raucous, ramshackle, lads-night-out revelry. I mean, I personally don’t think I could last a night on the tiles with guys who belch out lines like “Saloon at sundown, where we fight/ Louie Snake Eye wants to die/Poker Face will read his rights/ Whiskey Pete will pour his rye” in blurry-eyed unison, because I am not a pirate on the high seas or a train robber; but for old school punks, this has gotta sound like every wasted weekend from your head stomping teenage glory daze.

Basically, if you have a tattoo on your neck, or just dream of such an ornament, than the Duane Peters Gunfight is for you. Lock n’ load, cowboy.

*Holy hell, did I just date myself there. If you’re under 35, just think of your biker uncle or somebody.