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The bass guitar! Please, turn off the bass guitar and I’ll tell you everything! Hardcore punk, done well, is evenly narked, from the thunder-drums to the speed-thrash power chords – a union of fuck filed into one sharp arrow of aggression. Always the familiar growl of the frontman barrages at little louder, but that’s ok, they’re carrying the messages, even if we can’t make out a word. ‘Honeys’ frequently ignores all of this and pushes to the fore the Satan-trump bass of Randy Huth, certainly on the opening ‘Bathroom Laughter’ and the weird, spoken word preach of the following ‘Chain Worker’. You will want it to stop, because it’s fucking horrible, but then, as Pissed Jeans’ fourth album blurts on, Stockholm Syndrome kicks in. You love your captor. You love that monstrous chug. You love that it pushes everything else impossibly louder and harder.

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