Authentic bloody-nose hardcore punk from a loose collective of like-minded bomb children from Los Angeles. Bullet Treatment started life as a hardcore cover band, bashing out double-speed Misfits, Black Flag and 7 Seconds tunes for the adoring throngs of nostalgia-punks, but they eventually took to writing originals, and here’s three of ‘em, plus a Nipples song, just so’s you know that THEY know where they came from. Keepin’ it real, see. All four songs sound like when the YWCA almost imploded from teenage sweat, testosterone, fire-crackers, and DYS riffs in 1986, or whenever those crazed all-ages punk shows from my youth were. Same vibe – rage, excitement, pent-up sexual energy – and the same sound, too. Rock n’ roll gone berserk. “Fuck Up” is probably the catchiest of the songs, but they’re all about 30 seconds long, and pretty much anything is good for that amount of time, so pick yr poison. By the way, there’s at least 17 guys in the band. Not all at once, but still, just imagine how much beer you have to buy for these fuckers if they play in your basement.

PS. Howcum punk rockers keep putting big fat stripper tits on their covers these days? Aren’t punk rockers AGAINST big fat stripper tits? Did I miss an important memo?
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These wigged-out retro-rawkers from Peoria eschew the boring ol’ lumbering bass guitar for a Farfisa organ. This means they sound nothing like Led Zeppelin or the Scorpions. Instead, they sound like…well, any other band you have ever heard with a Farfisa organ, except, perhaps, for the Frumious Bandersnatch. And that’s cool, because those guys were total hippies.

“Let’s Get Broken” is a real monster-mash, half Makers, half whatever Bam Bam’s band was on the teenage Flintstones show, so if have a sweet-tooth for this kinda goop, yr in luck. The title song is the chewiest and gooiest track on deck, a heads-down sweat-fest of desperate tambourine rock, perfect for either eating 7 bowls of Count Chocula, or banging the nearest Go-go dancer into a coma. Whichever works better for you. The other songs aren’t quite as groovy, but then again, they’re not supposed to be. Plus you’ll be too busy eating sugar cereal with go-go dancers to notice. Party on.

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