Minimal snaps and snips of the crash and burn generation are captured in this dimension, as songs heard in the underground dance clubs of Orwell’s 1984. We feel the bleak disgust of Mark Sauner’s mind, but he refuses to step it back. This is as classy as he’ll get, back alley hustler, smoke screen. On “Garden Times”, you know he’s trying to show you the way, but you don’t get it. And you never will—this is his nightmare. Broken and torn in two, needing an escape that isn’t possible. The end of the world already happened, and this is the soundtrack.

Lantern’s burning proto-punk and wah-wah workouts provide a much needed headbang session to strengthen those aging neck tendons. Their cover of this trashcan anthem further proves the cutting-edge theory that silverface fuzz blows away synth-banjo, any day. Meanwhile, The Ether’s destructo-wave ripples into black holes, a dense mass constantly on the verge of implosion. Here and there, a sparse guitar lead escapes the confines, a split-second before the void pulls you back head first into its crushing fury. Must grip!

Specters of surf-beat and apparitions of the brothers Reid linger between supercharged shards of feedback from this brazen Toronto trio. Hollandaze channels decade-faded six-string anthemia smoke-ringed into the present like a resinous blast of chromium dioxide. The holy triumvirate of Buzz, Daps and Pleasence group grope the O boys to present this late ’11 stunner in all three formats a gripper could desire. Our only question: who’s dropping this shit on eight-track?

Following a far too lengthy hiatus, the triumphant return of Grand Trine has been a glorious thing to witness. The world needs these leather jacket daddies (and mommies) and their tender tough love to remind us that rock ‘n’ roll still has teeth. Hitting the strip with a brand new line-up and a batch of neck-twisting noir-guitar tunes, these hellbound banditos ride into the witching hour and leave you coughing on fumes.

Eleven minutes of snarling, grease-dripping no-tonal swipe ‘n’ bash is all these charming party pukes need to leave an impression. Any longer and the crust would be as burnt as their guitar riffs. Utilizing the smallest amount of ingredients possible, this Toronto trio pogos into your living room and won’t leave until the lights come on. Nothing compares to the brain-bashing live show, but this hot little disc comes pretty damn close. INYRGRIP.

Music to weld to. I can accomplish many things whilst listening to Trois, such as rebuilding a motor, base-jumping or scrambling the shit outta eggs. Let ManyMental Mistakes take you over the edge of reason. Come screaming down from Mount Royal and fear no wrath, for you are a titan of the urban jungle with a battle-axe to shred and bleed onto. If MMM is your conscience, listen and run, jump, stab, flail, surf and Kill Kill Kill. Faster, Pussycat! You can’t outrun the devil forever but you can beat him at his own game.

Once again, Pink Noise mastermind Mark Sauner sounds like a laid-back, drug dealing, cartoon street hustler leaning against a brick wall trying to sweet-talk you. Are you going to get inside his black Cadillac and go for a cruise? I warn you he’s headed for a futuristic district. The windows to this man’s soul may be tinted, but it’s a luxury ride to the finish line. This is mutant-making music. These anthems would provide the suitable soundtrack for a dystopian inner-city youth centre with a poisoned water supply. The Pink Noise is truly a national treasure and sorely under recognized for its achievements in the field of sleaze.

[Ed’s note: Yes, we already posted about this album in its original format. This is its fourth pressing and first on wax from the good folks at Pleasence, and it sounds sleazier than ever…]

An audacious chronicle of the family Solanaceae. Jacqueline Lachance takes The Ether’s infinite disharmony into ridiculous arrays of VHS mashery, forcing the stop-motion absurdity through burnt colour palettes and neck-churning cut-ups. Wither beside the translucent Tomato-narrative and abandon all attempts to capture the disparate fiction. Shred.

With infinite drones of granular noise, The Ether dismantle ? and the Mysterians “96 Tears” into blissful nihilism. It’s the perfect trajectory for the moodier garage-punk of the 21st century: manic threads of derisive tone, painful hollaramas, and the burnt guitar leads of a desolate future. The Ether remain a vision into an apocalyptic groove transcending metaphysical mediums in sinusoidal abandon. Get sicc with it.

In a show of ridiculous viscosity, Mammoth Cave have focused massive gravity waves on the festering Vancouver fringe-punk milieu, condensing their sinusoids into ten bursts of minute-long mayhem. It’s the second in their Bloodstains series of Provincially-minded polaroids capturing this psychotic wave of ADD. Bands include: Nü Sensae, Role Mach, White Lung, Shearing Pinx, AHNA, Shipyards, Needles//Pins, B-Lines, Manic Attracts, Indian Wars, Young Mums, Timecopz, and Student/Teacher. Shred.