Captain Wails and The Harpoons, My God, The Heat, and Bareknuckle Bullseye. Lets get shitty, bring your dance shoes.
“If you're gonna poke at someone, it's much more effective to interject, spit your jabs, and pull away with a swiftness that'll leave them throwing up their hands yelling "What the fuck, man?" But point your venom at a city, a trend, or an entire philosophy and you're gonna need to be pretty fucking clever and pretty fucking correct. Enter Rockford's My God, The Heat. Pancake Johnson's vocals would appear too tarred-and-weathered to spin such sharp tapestries of vitriol, but somehow the band's punk-a-billy free-association is perfectly executed in his rasp. On their fourteen-track debut, Beautiful Men in an Ugly Town, My God, The Heat roll out a red carpet to piss on all things over-inflated and over-indulgent. Beautiful Men in an Ugly Town stomps and stutters with more essence and less oi! When singalongs are led this well, a doomed revolution usually follows. Threads of joyous bluster spun through the band's live set is exactly what you'll find. How many bands can boast that?”