New: Dribble – Lovers 7″


Dribble have been around since Jesus was slapping five with the dinosaurs. But this is their first 7″, after a few cassettes released fucking ages ago. Three songs. That’s all we get. If I could pull off the Clay Davis “Shiiiieeet”, I would. But when it comes to Dribble, three songs is enough to tide the rising rioting inhibitions. The people demand more material, more STUFF…but this 7″ will do, because it is a godsend nonetheless. .

The “Lovers” EP is like a concept record, except it doesn’t suck. They are love songs for the fucked up, the first two being caricatures of  the genre, deliriously snarling pop music (Madonna if she owned The Saints’ “(I’m) Stranded” 7″). The final  track – a 180 degree turn on the theme, with daggers of self-loathing pointed inwards. This EP is for the lovers – but more of the Thelma & Louise/Romeo & Juliet/Sid & Nancy variety.

Beginning with the best punk single ever, “Girl Of My Dreams” is like if Razar’s snot and fierce ugliness collided with the stomping sleaze of The Birthday Party and Lubricated Goat. This song isn’t played so much as thrown at the listener, a brutal punch of lust, tetanus-coated guitars plunging into squall delivered at Millennium Falcon speeds. This is the only punk song that you will ever need, ever.

However, if you grow curious, you’re just a regular old curious cat, then flip the record and engage with some Pandora’s Box activity – five minutes of all the evils in the world will come flying right out at ya. “High St Girl” pulses with lip-chewing anxiety, a Travis Bickle-esque pining set the acidic punk. “Cowboy” finishes the most thrilling eight minutes of your life with a song streaked with bile, a car wreck of a track that blazes down a highway, before a tree jumps up in the road, and all that’s left is flaming wreckage…a cowboy in the Mad Max sense of the word, rather than the John Wayne definition.

Dribble are anti-heroes who have made the most dissonant collection of punk music in a long time. This EP is just pure malice, impossible noise that plays with desperation and predator instinct equally. 10 out of fucking 10.

Buy it here, buy it here, buy it here.


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