How about that real punk rock, aye? How about that shit that screams and slithers and pronounces itself with all sorts of fucked up intentions? That’s what Nailhouse go for, spindly, terrifying guitars looming over gargantuan bellows delivered at a galeforce. “You’re fucking with my head” the Newcastle fellows sneer, asserting Nailhouse into a sludgy, B-grade slasher version of The Monks or something. Just goes to show that when you haven’t heard any decent punk in a while, Newcastle still knows what’s up.