Self-deprecation is an underrated art form, but when riffs meet raps it’s practically non-existent. Melbourne’s 28 Days, however, know how to take the piss out of themselves. They have a catchphrase their fans chant. It goes, “28 Days can fuck off”.
Self-belittlement might be risky, but it pays off here. Because while they might conform to several of the usual cartoon flexes – big guitars, DJ providing scratching and beats – bracketing them in with every nu-metal band who own a much-kissed photo of Dr Dre in their key-chained wallet would be a disservice. In reality, they’re much closer to the spirit of punk, albeit the gonzoid Californian kind. Mainly they veer between escape-velocity hardcore, funny Oi! shoutalongs, and soaring melodic belters that Blink-182 would sacrifice their tattooed hides for.
Yet it’s on twin highlights, ‘Sucker’ and ‘Rip It Up’, that they really challenge the thuggish American elite. Mainly because both songs possess buckets of ridiculous charm, rabid multi-coloured punk ripping into hip-hop styling, and tunes that are considerably bigger than the shorts they inevitably wear.
A Day-Glo skate bridge between Limp Bizkit and Green Day, they might be daft but 28 Days won’t fuck off soon. In a world of Fred Durst’s spiritual children, that’s reason to be grateful.