Rancid doesn’t f*ck around. They roar, grind, and tear it up like it’s nobody’s business. Just listening to them makes me want to go out and smash something against my head or someone else’s.
“Disgruntled” is full of screeching terrorism. “It’s Quite Alright” flows with melody that’s key to Rancid’s powerful lock. The songs soar by at lightning speed.
Can you figure out what Tim Armstrong is singing about on “Blackhawk Down”? I tried, but my ears aren’t ready for such a pace. And though the song is undecipherable, the melody shines through. “Not To Regret” is fantastic. Tim Armstrong’s voice mounts onto your skull as it claws, digs, and does whatever it can to latch on until you’re overpowered by his dope.
“Rattlesnake” boasts one of the coolest Rancid riffs to date. As a matter of fact, the entire album just has to be acknowledged. I haven’t heard Rancid this determined before. Radio won’t be able to handle it and that makes me feel even better because mass consumption won’t take away such a cool commodity.
Rancid brings back my childhood favorites like D.R.I., The Exploited, and G.B.H. There are no excuses for the music they make. They are the answer to all of you snot-nosed wimps who think Blink 182 is the greatest thing since potty training. Think before you even attempt to dive into a Rancid onslaught.
+ rae gun
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