Acro-brats - "Hair Trigger" 7-inch - Susspool Records
The “Hair Trigger” 7-inch, delivered by the itchy-fingered members of Acro-brats, is a tough review for a guy like me despite its many pleasures (crazy dark-ass-violet vinyl, which is also thick; a shinier jacket than Andrew Dice Clay; and yes, a skull).
I love the attitude (they’s STRAIGHT OUTTA BOSTON BABY!!!).
I like the snarl.
I can handle the songs themselves.
But the production is so … quality … it’s a huge fucking problem for me. It’s as if older AFI and non-ska Leftover Crack/Choking Victim made an album together and decided to record the guitars to sound all Less Than Jake-y. Why not leave a little grime on the table for the hound dogs to gnarl over? I feel Acro-brats want to shatter the ear-teeth of every listener who takes a chomp-chomp, and they come so close; what’s holding them back?
There are elements of pop-punk (careful) along with the hardcore/punk platitudes, and that’s another giant cross for them to drag across the desert that is Gumshoe’s heart.
Tossing these deterents aside for a second, you should know “Hair Trigger” is actually a solid piece of work that would be considered too much like racket for a good portion of the population. Loud guitars, bass, drums, vox; speedy, albeit complicated, arrangements are all on the table here. The singer, Chris Brat, does the old hardcore thing and lines it with a bit of gloss, never losing his edge (and if I’m not mistaken this band has seen many moons), and the band is right behind him. Almost too much so, in fact — when the bassist does his little “diddle-diddle diddle-dee” thing his seeming heroics prove burdensome for the songs, which at their roots are more hardcore.
There I go, focusin’ on the negative again — that’s just how I’m wired. There’s going to be a lot to like here for those with more basic rock ‘n’ roll needs to fill, so it’s important for you to know where on the totem pole you sit. I’d venture the majority of this site’s readers (experimental thinkers at heart, joined to me by the fibers of musical provocation, all) will be a shade too jaded to latch onto “Hair Trigger,” yet the joke’s on ME — I don’t really have that many readers!
And anyway, Acro-brats obviously do well in a live setting. That’s what their songs are geared toward: stomping boots, sweaty brows, leering drunks, abandoned smokes (this fantasy is set before bars banned cigarettes) and aggressive punk energy. Don’t begrudge them that.
