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Punk bands on majors usually means slightly ruffled-looking boy bands, decked in over priced skate couture. This type of pop band wields guitars, carries a forearm-covering amount of tattoos and generally hops to the tune of kerching-kerching.
Island are as guilty as the others (Sum 41, Fall Out Boy). Some contemplative soul has been bucking the trend with a few screamo bands (Thrice, Thursday). And then we have one, 100% unadulterated punk rock band - the Bronx. Whoever that individual may be, thank you. Thank you for keeping the Bronx on your roster.
While not realising the big time tips they earned a few years back, the Bronx have picked up right where their monster of a debut left off. This translates to another self-titled titled record, preceded by another uncompromising piece of gritty street punk. There's a clean version on here. Lord knows why. As Matt Caughthran grinds his teeth with each wave of the chorus, clean or not clean, the message is crystal: "You motherfucker I want your blood!" Some will be spilled. Very soon.
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