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Stiff Richards: State Of Mind 12"
First things first - you donāt need me to tell you about the significance of Australia in the history of punk. I mean, what am I, Jon Savage? Google it yourself, FFS. Instead, letās just agree that the speedy, feral racket thrown together by the likes of The Saints, Radio Birdman and The Scientists in the mid-late ā70s is AT LEAST as deliriously entertaining as anything concocted by their UK/US counterparts, sowing the seeds for seemingly endless garage-inflected noisemakers in the land down under.
No one likes using words like ātraditionā or āheritageā here - the punk rock clusterbomb is far too messy for any of that business - but also emerging from Australian rockās primordial soup is the addictive sneer of Stiff Richards. Like their predecessors, the band are a gleefully wracked mess of full throttle energy and barrelling power chords, with songs like āKids Out On The Grassā and āPoint of Youā proving at least the equal of ā(Iām) Strandedā or āAloha Steve And Dannoā. Nine tracks in less than 30 minutes, all winners and all determined to leave you flipping over couches and smashing your TV set. And letās face it, you may as well; thereās nothing good on.
It all builds towards frantic closer āFill In The Blanksā, which rattles around your speakers like the UK Subs trying to play Ed Kuepper riffs at the centre of an earthquake, before grinding to a halt as a voice says, āThatās the one.ā Does it sound self-satisfied? Hey, itās got good reason to - this is the best no-frills garage rock party since Gino & The Goonsā āDo The Get Aroundā, and the only appropriate response is to declare yourself betrothed to Stiff Richards because you canāt imagine your life without āem. Donāt believe me? Sort out your ears and get āState Of Mindā in āem. Rockānāroll as itās supposed to be played.
No one likes using words like ātraditionā or āheritageā here - the punk rock clusterbomb is far too messy for any of that business - but also emerging from Australian rockās primordial soup is the addictive sneer of Stiff Richards. Like their predecessors, the band are a gleefully wracked mess of full throttle energy and barrelling power chords, with songs like āKids Out On The Grassā and āPoint of Youā proving at least the equal of ā(Iām) Strandedā or āAloha Steve And Dannoā. Nine tracks in less than 30 minutes, all winners and all determined to leave you flipping over couches and smashing your TV set. And letās face it, you may as well; thereās nothing good on.
It all builds towards frantic closer āFill In The Blanksā, which rattles around your speakers like the UK Subs trying to play Ed Kuepper riffs at the centre of an earthquake, before grinding to a halt as a voice says, āThatās the one.ā Does it sound self-satisfied? Hey, itās got good reason to - this is the best no-frills garage rock party since Gino & The Goonsā āDo The Get Aroundā, and the only appropriate response is to declare yourself betrothed to Stiff Richards because you canāt imagine your life without āem. Donāt believe me? Sort out your ears and get āState Of Mindā in āem. Rockānāroll as itās supposed to be played.
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Stiff Richards: State Of Mind 12"
Stiff Richards: State Of Mind 12"
First things first - you donāt need me to tell you about the significance of Australia in the history of punk. I mean, what am I, Jon Savage? Google it yourself, FFS. Instead, letās just agree that the speedy, feral racket thrown together by the likes of The Saints, Radio Birdman and The Scientists in the mid-late ā70s is AT LEAST as deliriously entertaining as anything concocted by their UK/US counterparts, sowing the seeds for seemingly endless garage-inflected noisemakers in the land down under.
No one likes using words like ātraditionā or āheritageā here - the punk rock clusterbomb is far too messy for any of that business - but also emerging from Australian rockās primordial soup is the addictive sneer of Stiff Richards. Like their predecessors, the band are a gleefully wracked mess of full throttle energy and barrelling power chords, with songs like āKids Out On The Grassā and āPoint of Youā proving at least the equal of ā(Iām) Strandedā or āAloha Steve And Dannoā. Nine tracks in less than 30 minutes, all winners and all determined to leave you flipping over couches and smashing your TV set. And letās face it, you may as well; thereās nothing good on.
It all builds towards frantic closer āFill In The Blanksā, which rattles around your speakers like the UK Subs trying to play Ed Kuepper riffs at the centre of an earthquake, before grinding to a halt as a voice says, āThatās the one.ā Does it sound self-satisfied? Hey, itās got good reason to - this is the best no-frills garage rock party since Gino & The Goonsā āDo The Get Aroundā, and the only appropriate response is to declare yourself betrothed to Stiff Richards because you canāt imagine your life without āem. Donāt believe me? Sort out your ears and get āState Of Mindā in āem. Rockānāroll as itās supposed to be played.
No one likes using words like ātraditionā or āheritageā here - the punk rock clusterbomb is far too messy for any of that business - but also emerging from Australian rockās primordial soup is the addictive sneer of Stiff Richards. Like their predecessors, the band are a gleefully wracked mess of full throttle energy and barrelling power chords, with songs like āKids Out On The Grassā and āPoint of Youā proving at least the equal of ā(Iām) Strandedā or āAloha Steve And Dannoā. Nine tracks in less than 30 minutes, all winners and all determined to leave you flipping over couches and smashing your TV set. And letās face it, you may as well; thereās nothing good on.
It all builds towards frantic closer āFill In The Blanksā, which rattles around your speakers like the UK Subs trying to play Ed Kuepper riffs at the centre of an earthquake, before grinding to a halt as a voice says, āThatās the one.ā Does it sound self-satisfied? Hey, itās got good reason to - this is the best no-frills garage rock party since Gino & The Goonsā āDo The Get Aroundā, and the only appropriate response is to declare yourself betrothed to Stiff Richards because you canāt imagine your life without āem. Donāt believe me? Sort out your ears and get āState Of Mindā in āem. Rockānāroll as itās supposed to be played.
$22.00
Stiff Richards: State Of Mind 12"ā
$22.00
Product Information
Product Information
Shipping & Returns
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Description
First things first - you donāt need me to tell you about the significance of Australia in the history of punk. I mean, what am I, Jon Savage? Google it yourself, FFS. Instead, letās just agree that the speedy, feral racket thrown together by the likes of The Saints, Radio Birdman and The Scientists in the mid-late ā70s is AT LEAST as deliriously entertaining as anything concocted by their UK/US counterparts, sowing the seeds for seemingly endless garage-inflected noisemakers in the land down under.
No one likes using words like ātraditionā or āheritageā here - the punk rock clusterbomb is far too messy for any of that business - but also emerging from Australian rockās primordial soup is the addictive sneer of Stiff Richards. Like their predecessors, the band are a gleefully wracked mess of full throttle energy and barrelling power chords, with songs like āKids Out On The Grassā and āPoint of Youā proving at least the equal of ā(Iām) Strandedā or āAloha Steve And Dannoā. Nine tracks in less than 30 minutes, all winners and all determined to leave you flipping over couches and smashing your TV set. And letās face it, you may as well; thereās nothing good on.
It all builds towards frantic closer āFill In The Blanksā, which rattles around your speakers like the UK Subs trying to play Ed Kuepper riffs at the centre of an earthquake, before grinding to a halt as a voice says, āThatās the one.ā Does it sound self-satisfied? Hey, itās got good reason to - this is the best no-frills garage rock party since Gino & The Goonsā āDo The Get Aroundā, and the only appropriate response is to declare yourself betrothed to Stiff Richards because you canāt imagine your life without āem. Donāt believe me? Sort out your ears and get āState Of Mindā in āem. Rockānāroll as itās supposed to be played.
No one likes using words like ātraditionā or āheritageā here - the punk rock clusterbomb is far too messy for any of that business - but also emerging from Australian rockās primordial soup is the addictive sneer of Stiff Richards. Like their predecessors, the band are a gleefully wracked mess of full throttle energy and barrelling power chords, with songs like āKids Out On The Grassā and āPoint of Youā proving at least the equal of ā(Iām) Strandedā or āAloha Steve And Dannoā. Nine tracks in less than 30 minutes, all winners and all determined to leave you flipping over couches and smashing your TV set. And letās face it, you may as well; thereās nothing good on.
It all builds towards frantic closer āFill In The Blanksā, which rattles around your speakers like the UK Subs trying to play Ed Kuepper riffs at the centre of an earthquake, before grinding to a halt as a voice says, āThatās the one.ā Does it sound self-satisfied? Hey, itās got good reason to - this is the best no-frills garage rock party since Gino & The Goonsā āDo The Get Aroundā, and the only appropriate response is to declare yourself betrothed to Stiff Richards because you canāt imagine your life without āem. Donāt believe me? Sort out your ears and get āState Of Mindā in āem. Rockānāroll as itās supposed to be played.











