So… FLATS, then.
It needs to be said that, in my experiance, nothing can be more divisive (or dull) than the debate of what is “Punk” and what is not.
FLATS are, as it goes, far, far more punk than you.
Does this mean that they are better than you? Then the bands you listen to you? Than your Mum? Than my Mum?
In some ways, no. But for all the reasons that matter? Yah’up.
Punk is still a vague enough term to mean something as much as nothing, something Morrissey (a card carrying Punk if ever there was one. FACT) must’ve been thinking when he got FLATS to open for him on his UK tour last year, an act that would’ve presumably left a large contingant of the “Moz Army” bemused as much as thrilled by the cluster fuck of noise tickling them in their double denim.
‘Better Living’ is FLATS’ 2nd album, out now on One Little Indian. Over it’s 12 songs you sort of jump between wanting to tear all your fillings out with joy at it’s almost shameless rage and general filth, to just wanting to applaude it’s punk audaciousness by, I dont know, eating a wheelbarrow of glass then washing it down with some tar. Perhaps.
Of the songs that stand out for me are Shuffle, a straight ahead punk battle cry reminisant of the Hope Conspiracy at their most bilious, and Mambo, an almost Sabbath-esque climax to an album of songs that reaffirm you can still play something as fast, sloppy and loud as you want, as long as you can show you mean it.
An exercise in acerbic punk aggression from start to finish. It doesnt require any more dissecting then that, and it wouldnt want it either.