Stabscotch — “Uncanny Valley”

AlbumReview_Stabscotch.jpgI have high expectations when it comes to punk. The genre has been warped into a grotesque paradox by artists capitalizing on its anti-capitalist sensibilities — the most repulsive of ironies, or perhaps a testament to the economic system’s ability to swallow everything that sees the light of day. The reality is: punk is about subversion, and the music ought to reflect that. Which makes Green Day a pink tutu vis-à-vis The Pop Group, but is also what makes Stabscotch’s “Uncanny Valley” one of the most accomplished punk records of the 21st century thus far — and it’s not even punk.

Why why whY WHy wHY WHY!?

            “Free from all the things that make my heart—beat /

                        And the Unknown Pleasures that control … meeeEEE!”

(Because sound is a black hole of the subconscious,

sucking on your thoughts like a parasite, swelling up

pregnant with your memories, your confusion and,

most importantly, your fury.)


            gua gg gua kkkkkyyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

            drUN drUN drUN drUN drUN drUN

(If music is a purge, then Stabscotch is

your doctor and your medicine both,

horrifying and cleansing all at once.)


Release everything you’ve been too ashamed to reveal. Spill your guts over the radio’s saccharine sheen; let the voices speak of all your hideous secrets. Poison us. We don’t want to see your pain — we want to taste it. It’s music to our tongues.


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