The fall of 2000 was a time of innocence. Clinton was President. The Twin Towers were still standing. And Bob Seger still had his dignity. Then the Briefs burst onto the scene like a neutron bomb with the audaciously titled "Hit After Hit" and the punk rock landscape was changed forever.
Their '77-style pop punk is loud, raucous and fierce, yet cohesive and hooky and hilarious.
With their skinny ties, plastic sunglasses, matching bleach-blond dye jobs and bad haircuts, The Briefs take the stage like commandos of the New Wave, retro zombies from the Disco Inferno. It's not what they sound like or what they look like. It's their energy. They'll come to your town and electrify the place. It doesn't matter if they go on first, last or in between. It doesn't matter if it's an all- ages gig, an outdoor music fest, or a shitty little dive bar deep in the heart of Wrongville. They'll play any time, anywhere. They've played the Wasted Festival in the UK, the Warped Tour in the USA, and a gang of shows in between. And that's just this summer and in typical form, will be on the road for the indefinite future.

Five years later they're still poor and still weird but their fans are so much richer for the shitload of records they've put out along way.
The Brief's new record is a platter full of anti-love songs for anyone who has ever had a bad case of rotten love. Think of it as a soundtrack for tenderhearted hooligans and sweet-as-sin heartbreakers to break up by. Just give it a spin and you'll come crawling back for more.

 

 

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