I 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.)