While I’m far from being it’s biggest fan, there’s something about well-played, flawlessly executed UK82 influenced punk rock that makes me want to bounce around my living room and flip the bird at whichever pretentious, smug arsehole is trying to put a positive sheen on the bloody awful news on the telly while desperately attempting not to knock over the precariously balanced mug of coffee that’s always, and inevitably, teetering in the edge of the table. Because coffee safety, at least in my mind, can make or break a band. If the music isn’t up to par, I lose my focus and the coffee spills, the bands fate is sealed and I quickly abandon and forget them. If however, the music in question is memorable enough to make me concentrate and thus ensure that my coffee is kept safe, then the chances are, I’m going to give the band the thumbs up and, inevitably, become a bit of a fan.
And so far with Pure Drivel cranked to maximum volume and me jumping around like, what is in my imagination, some svelte, lean, mean punk rock machine but in reality is a flailing, seen better days, middle aged bellend with a rapidly expanding waistline, my java has remained safe. Which has firmly cemented my opinion of Kicker, because as much as I love the punk rocking, as you’ve probably gathered nothing is more important than coffee.
Taking their cue from The Exploited and GBH, and with their collective tongues lodged firmly in their cheeks, Kicker play the sort of punk rock that aging, weekend punks spend hours endlessly bleating and droning on about. Pure Drivel is loud, snotty, obnoxious, fast and packed full of ridiculously catchy songs and should be listened to while consuming vast amounts of beer with your nearest and dearest punk rock chums. So what are you waiting for? Ring your friends, get the brews in, introduce them to Kicker and start drinking. And let the good times roll… Tim Cundle