Second album by Disgusted, of California
Many sins have been committed in the name of punk rock. Blink-182, for example, are really just little reactionary Bernard Mannings cleverly disguised in skatewear rather than the genuine punk article: primal screaming desperados whose bile ducts
loop directly into your soul.
So they’ll never hit the Top 20 like Blink. But here’s F Minus, four extremely angry people from Orange County, California whose second album features a diagram of a grenade and all the alienation and yelling a disgruntled young soul could ever want. With 20 songs in a little over half an hour,
F Minus keep it very basic. Like back in the day, there are no frills here, like melodies or production values. Just fast guitars and
lyrics screamed, barked or spat. Songs like ‘Vultures’ or ‘Fables’
are like Amen playing Minor Threat: anti-everything, gloriously pithy, and barely listenable to anyone not as annoyed with the state of things as Brad Logan, Jennifer Johnson, Erica Daking and Adam Zuckert.
True enough, there’s some unintentional comedy to be found in lyrics like [I]”Process of hypocrasy [/I](sic)[I]/Paragon of death’s utility”[/I]. But if F Minus lack subtlety, the directness of their disgust is recompense enough.