The Actualā€™s second album is co-produced by Scott Weiland and released on his own label Soft Drive Records, but their sound bears little resemblance to Stone Temple Pilots or Velvet Revolver (despite having opened for the latter band): The Actualā€™s stock in trade is more a case of pop punk meets melodic rock ā€“ ranging from the fast-paced Lindsay Never Gets Lonely to the arena rock of Sending You A Signal ā€“ and itā€™s all pretty straightforward stuff.

The chorus of If You See Her is so instantly familiar that Iā€™d swear it was a cover song if the credits didnā€™t insist otherwise, and chances are that youā€™ll find yourself singing along to first single This Is The Worst Day Of My Life (Do You Want To Come Over) halfway through the first time you hear it. But thatā€™s not necessarily a compliment in this context.

For the most part the album is a case of heard it all before ā€“ the obvious comparisons being bands such as American Hi-Fi, Sugarcult, and +44. But even if those names get your heart racing (and they probably shouldnā€™t), The Actual donā€™t quite cut the mustard ā€“ mainly thanks to the dullness of the production which keeps the songs from shining as brightly as they possibly could.

While thereā€™s a few sparks here and there, thereā€™s not enough for _In_Stitches_ to start a fire. But suture self.

Owen Heitmann

This is a great, confident debut album that doesnā€™t put a foot wrong. On first listen, I was hooked even before the first song, Boomboxes And Dictionaries, was over, and the remaining eleven tracks didnā€™t let me down at all.

New Jersey four-piece The Gaslight Anthem blend anthemic punk rock spirit with Springsteen-influenced storytelling (together with a folk influence that recalls early Against Me!) to create a compelling, addictive whole. The warmth of frontman Brian Fallonā€™s gruff voice easily engages the listener on tracks like I Coulda Been A Contender, an evocative regret-tinged mid-tempo rocker, and Wooderson, which draws the strongest of the Springsteen comparisons. We Came To Dance is an overt blend of classicism and modernity, with folksy delivery interrupted by gang vocal lines about two-stepping punk kids, while the vital 1930 brings the punk influence to the foreground and The Navesink Banks in the middle of the album is a strong folk throwback, dominated by acoustic guitar and successfully replicating a traditional American folk lament.

Iā€™da Called You Woody, Joe is a heartfelt tribute to the late great Joe Strummer, but despite referencing lyrics from Clash songs, its driving rock ā€?nā€™ roll is more akin to The Mescaleros ā€“ and more like The Gaslight Anthem than either. Another salute, this time to Bob Dylan, can be found in Angry Johnny And The Radio, a halftime dirge that livens up considerably towards the end.

The unforgettable chorus of Drive makes for yet another stellar cut on an album of terrific songs, the relentlessly rocking Weā€™re Getting A Divorce, You Keep The Dinerā€™s singalong outro is irresistible, and Woody Guthrie-like final number Red At Night (the acoustic counterpoint to earlier track Red In The Morning) makes for a memorable end to a truly wonderful album. Iā€™m struggling to remember the last time I was so taken with an unheralded record from a band Iā€™d never previously heard of.

Owen Heitmann

Melbourne four-piece The Scissor Fileā€™s debut EP storms out of the gates with the driving Reason To Run, a strong introduction to both the band and the EP with its mix of melodic rock and post-hardcore. The dual vocals on the chorus are the clincher for ensuring that this song grabs your attention.

The Art Of Letting Go is less full-on, but nonetheless benefits from an upbeat chorus and strong vocals that really shine, while Hold Still is a bit more of a power ballad, although it still has its share of heavy riffs, albeit at a more measured pace.

The intriguingly titled Save Me (KMOH) returns the focus to post-hardcore, with a massive chorus and jittery angular verses, but itā€™s the fifth and final track Cheap Shots (from the lyrics of which the CDā€™s title is drawn) that is in many ways the standout track, brimming over as it does with conspicuous energy. This muscular hard rocker even features a killer guitar solo, and ensures that this solid EP finishes even more strongly than it began.

Owen Heitmann

With their second album, Amber Pacific continue to deliver glossy pop-punk with often notably powerful drumming. As such, theyā€™re most easily described as being equivalent to New Found Glory circa 2002 (I would not have blinked an eye if you told me that Temporary was an NFG cover), or perhaps MxPx in their more recent guise (so itā€™s appropriate that Mike Herrera of MxPx features as guest vocalist on the track Runaway).

Rule #76 serves as a rather misleading intro to the album, being an instrumental blending strings and piano. Summer (in B) invalidates this first impression, with breakneck drums by Dango dominating the song, although guitarist and songwriter William Nutter also has some chances to shred impressively.

Temporary is a bit slower but is instantly familiar, as Matt Young sings a chorus thatā€™s harder to forget than your own name. (Similar things can be said about the pop-drenched radio-ready love song Fall Back Into My Life, albeit more grudgingly.) Follow Your Dreams is also mid-tempo, although it still has enough vitality to prove that not every song with a string section has to be a ballad.

Strings reappear throughout the album, however, so itā€™s inevitable that theyā€™d eventually appear on a torch song. Take Me From This Place is that track, and its inclusion alone puts paid to the ridiculous title of We Think Weā€™re Hardcore, Cause Well, We Are (which in itself is little more than an instrumental lead-in to the following Runaway, a fast-paced and catchy highlight).

The fiery Living Proof again showcases Dangoā€™s skills, alongside those of fellow rhythm section member Greg Strong, and inspirational final track Dear _____, This Has Always Been About Standing Up For What You Believe In… is passionate.

If youā€™re a fan of pop-punk, this album is well-worth investigating. It certainly sucks a lot less corporate dick than the immaculate airbrushed band photos in the sleeve would suggest.

Owen Heitmann

Itā€™s not too big a surprise that for his first solo album, Tim Armstrong (of ā€™77-style punks Rancid, as well as The Transplants) has delivered a bluebeat-inspired ska record. Ska has frequently been a feature of his main outfit, and was even more integral to his first influential band, Operation Ivy.

However, the commercial sound of first single Into Action ā€“ a disposable slice of pop-reggae featuring Avril Lavigne-alike poppet Skye Sweetnam ā€“ is a shock (even given that Armstrong has bemused his hardcore fans in the past with actions such as co-writing songs for P!nk), although its flavour isnā€™t characteristic of the album, which predominantly has a more two-tone retro sound.

I was more taken aback by the realisation that Armstrong just canā€™t sing any more. Throughout the album, his slurred vocals sound like theyā€™ve been delivered underwater with a mouthful of marbles. When, on Oh No, he sings ā€?I love rock ā€?nā€™ rollā€¯, it sounds more like, ā€?Arrrghhhgorra buh bhuh do arrrrggghhhhnnnnā€¯.

Lyrics also find him retreading old ground with diminishing returns. Into Actionā€™s first two verses are basically a rewrite of Roots Radicals (from Rancidā€™s …And Out Come The Wolves album), while Among The Dead looks back at the breakup of Op Ivy in the same way that Journey To The End Of The East Bay (ditto) did ā€“ but whereas the latter song was a heartfelt tribute, the new one almost comes off as a plug for the remastered reissue of Op Ivyā€™s studio output.

That said, I donā€™t think Armstrong is capable of writing a bad tune, and his seven-piece backing band The Aggrolites are tight indeed. Laid-back and catchy songs like Wake Up and Hold On will get stuck in your head for days, Inner City Violence adds a darker shade to the albumā€™s palette and thereā€™s even an instrumental (Cold Blooded) to close the record. But itā€™s still far from the type of classic album heā€™s produced with various groups in the past.

A Poetā€™s Life also comes with a bonus DVD of B&W film clips for each of the ten tracks on the album.

Owen Heitmann

Despite the appearance of the cover of my copy, this is not a posthumous release by the late frontman of ā€?the only band that mattersā€¯, The Clash, but rather a soundtrack to Julien Templeā€™s 2007 documentary about this legendary and charismatic punk rock warlord.

The track selection draws heavily on the songs Strummer programmed as host of his own radio show on the BBC World Service between 1999 and 2002, and the compilers have also used archives of the broadcasts to have Joe back-announce many of the songs, giving this collection a very intimate feel. The songs reflect Strummerā€™s voracious appetite for music of all kinds, ranging from early rock ā€?nā€™ roller Eddie Cochraneā€™s Nervous Breakdown through Nina Simone covering the Bee Geesā€™ To Love Somebody to Ernest Ranglinā€™s Minuet.

But for fans, itā€™s the inclusion of two previously unreleased demos for tracks from The Clashā€™s first album that will be most exciting, as well as the never-officially recorded live track (In The) Pouring Rain (although it should be noted that the latter dates from the post-Mick Jones, post-Topper Headon incarnation of the band). Thereā€™s also Rachid Tahaā€™s world music cover of Rock The Casbah, the non-album Clash single Armagideon Time, and Strummer rarities Omotepe (from the Walker movie soundtrack) and Trash City (recorded with short-lived outfit Latino Rockabilly War for the Permanent Record movie soundtrack), plus a couple of cuts recorded with his last band, the Mescaleros. An eclectic tribute to a great man.

Owen Heitmann

Welsh quintet Funeral For A Friendā€™s previous two albums have seen them labelled as a post-hardcore screamo act, but this ambitious and majestic third album sees them shed that label completely, to the extent that they could be an entirely different band. Gone are the screams and metallic riffs of yesteryear; in their place, the band enthusiastically embrace panoramic, wide-screen rock ā€“ a nautical theme running through the songs even makes it a loose concept album.

The uplifting and melodic Into Oblivion (Reunion) sets the stage for this transformation, the immense scope of the song broadened by a choir wrapped around huge killer chorus. Itā€™s still emotional, but trading the heart-on-sleeve melodrama of the past for a wistful joy characterised by Matt Daviesā€™ soaring vocals.

The nautical theme is most obvious in the album centrepiece, the two part All Hands On Deck. Part 1, Raise The Sail, has a chunky riff bolstered by dynamic orchestral touches and is only loosely linked to Part 2, Open Water.

There are traces of the bandā€™s old sound ā€“ The Great Wide Open begins with a muscular guitar riff, although it is soon assimilated and transformed into a open-armed rocker, and the hard-hitting Out Of Reach recalls previous material given a radio-friendly spin. The Diary also incorporates melodic punk influences, but the albumā€™s strongest comparisons are to stadium rockers such as U2 and even Coldplay. Itā€™s unlikely long-term fans will find much to like about the non-threatening On A Wire or One For The Road.

However, as a bid for a wider audience, it deserves to be successful. Tales Donā€™t Tell Themselves is an easily digestible record that, like any concept album, is best taken as a whole.

Owen Heitmann

Southern Californian perennials Fu Manchu have carved themselves a definite niche over the past 15 years and can be depended on to deliver driving fuzz rock that pulls no punches, if rarely pulling any new tricks from the hat. The quartetā€™s tenth album offers maybe one surprise among its dozen tracks, but is nonetheless a reliably consistent collection. The title track kicks off the album, beginning cacophonously before settling into a typically muscular groove. Colossal hard rock vibes can also be found on the gutsy Lesson, archetypal Never Again (the international bonus track) and Shake It Loose, which revels in distortion, while the memorable Hung Out To Dry is an obvious choice for a single. Let Me Out features a familiar stoner riff influence, which comes much more to the fore on the slower and unyielding Land Of Giants, but really there isnā€™t much variation on this album ā€“ and Fu disciples wouldnā€™t expect anything more, or less. As for the surprise, itā€™s the inclusion of a cover version of new wave band The Carsā€™ Moving In Stereo ā€“ although itā€™s debatable whether the bigger surprise is the choice of song or the fact that their treatment makes it sound almost indistinguishable from a Fu Manchu original.

Owen Heitmann

This entry in the Punk Goes… series follows other similarly titled compilations including Punk Goes Metal, Punk Goes 80s and (unsurprisingly) the first Punk Goes Acoustic compilation. Seeing as itā€™s from Fearless Records, itā€™s also unsurprising that the term ā€?punkā€¯ is very loosely defined, with the only ā€?trueā€¯ punk band on offer here being Anti-Flag. Oh, wait, I just got the memo: Anti-Flag arenā€™t punk any more, because they signed to a major label. (And Against Me! are no longer punk, because they signed to the Ramonesā€™ label… whatever!) Regardless, Justin Saneā€™s snotty vocals, political lyrics and casual profanity are certainly the exception rather than the rule on this disc, which consists mainly of emo and pop-punk bands performing their biggest ballads. And donā€™t be fooled by the ā€?acousticā€¯ part of the title, either: while Silverstein, Daphne Loves Derby, and Sherwood all deliver the stripped back versions of their tracks that you might expect, a lot of artists (including Jackā€™s Mannequin and Alesana) offer up densely layered studio arrangements (often heavily featuring piano) that, while perhaps true to the letter of the term ā€?acousticā€™, donā€™t stick to what I would regard as its spirit. That said, this is by and large an entertaining collection of songs that may be inoffensive (the very antithesis of punk) but are nonetheless enjoyable, particularly the carnival sounds of Say Anythingā€™s Woe.

Owen Heitmann

The reunion of J Mascis, Lou Barlow and Murph ā€“ the three original members of pioneering indie rock outfit Dinosaur Jr. ā€“ 16 years after they last shared a stage was certainly unexpected, given that not only had guitarist and vocalist Mascis released more albums as Dinosaur Jr. since unceremoniously kicking bassist Barlow out of the band than the three they had recorded together (and allowed drummer Murph only minimal contributions to many of those subsequent recordings) but that Mascis also appeared to have retired the Dinosaur Jr. name, releasing material this century either solo or under the title J Mascis + The Fog. Even more unexpectedly, the reunion tour (to promote reissues of those first three albums) has led to a new studio release from the trio. Whatā€™s more ā€“ possibly most unexpected of all ā€“ itā€™s an unqualified success.

Almost Ready begins the album, and itā€™s like they never were apart ā€“ a lush melody threads through walls of fuzzy distortion and Jā€™s distinctive slacker vocals still sound like his voice is perpetually breaking. Crumble is a little more restrained, favouring the groupā€™s alternative country leanings (also in evidence on Weā€™re Not Alone) and highlighting the yearning in Mascisā€™ cracked voice, but still finding room as always for a guitar solo. Pick Me Up is an assertive, punchy slice of rock, featuring the theremin sound familiar from the bandā€™s later output. However, the nearly three-minute long lead guitar break at the end of this track will no doubt make some thankful that the next track is a Barlow composition. Yes, thatā€™s right, Mascis is sharing some of the limelight this time around, proving that time heals all wounds. The bandā€™s sound filtered through Barlowā€™s writing (or vice versa) here and on the thoughtful Lightning Bulb provides a measured counterpoint to Mascisā€™ songs. Itā€™s not the only source of variety on the album, though, as I Got Lost proves to be uncharacteristically gentle and quiet, allowing the tune some rare breathing space, despite the embellishments of a cello, and Itā€™s Me has a deeper, dirtier sound than normal.
This Is All I Came Here To Do and Been There All the Time, however, are quintessential Dinosaur Jr.: pop sensibilities mixed with shredding solos and layers of distortion, all turned up to 11 and treated like itā€™s the most natural combination in the world.

It might be unexpected to have them back, but itā€™s sure as hell not unwelcome.

Owen Heitmann