1. Feminazi
2. Bag
3. Animal Fuck
4. Cosmic Libido
Good Throb’s initial public offering draws from all of their previous bands’ work (the Sceptres, the Shitty Limits, Tortura et al.) in the shadows of the Nixe’s Utreg punk, with a hint of "Swiss Punk Now", a bit of the Australian X’s burliness, but any desire for comparison is overwhelmed by a certain wall of sound and ferocity - on every instrument - that breeds a perfectly nasty sense of empathy. Empathy for a visceral breeze, for the methodical assassination of tedium, for the distilled detestation of our rosy society, and for Tesco anthems. Raw depictions of a mundane universe. (NG - Terminal Boredom)
Ltd. to 355 copies on black.
Art by Ellie. Collage by Ash.
Still Single
London’s Good Throb have created a 7” that sounds like what dunking your head, eyes open, into a tub of vinegar must feel like. Snarling, sneering mid-tempo punker sounds out of three women and a man (with credentials I won’t trouble you with listing, so primal and urgent is the sound that this quartet pushes through) deals with issues like chauvinism, emotional/sexual repression, hygiene and the drudgeries of life in the service industry with the kind of piss-raw anger response you’d hoped for. “Feminazi” has this great chorus where singer Ellie barks “PISS ON THEIR CHIPS” in response to so-called progressive punks telling her to keep her opinions to herself, delivered with such force that you can very nearly smell the coagulating mixture of urine and fry grease commingling. It gets even better from there, and the cover art, all ink drawings of oozing pores, crooked teeth and phallic symbols, completes this incredible package, and you get the sense that there hasn’t been a band this righteously crude in so long that there might as well have never been any in the first place. 350 copies, six-panel foldout sleeve, holy fuck, buy a bunch and watch your so-called friends back away from you.
Cvlt Nation
This October sees the release of the debut 7” of London post-punk savages Good Throb on the ever rewarding Superfi Records. Self described as “Speculum rock for suicidal call-centre staff and the sexually dispossessed.” Imagine Mark E Smith reborn a girl and reliving endless bad days at the office and disappointing nights out. Rebuking customer service and hurling that maliciously malfunctioning photocopier out of the damn window. Not to mention her band appear to have found the perfect middle ground between Flipper and the 4-Skins to boot!
Terminal Boredom
Good Throb’s initial public offering draws from all of their previous bands’ work (the Sceptres, the Shitty Limits, Tortura et al.) in the shadows of Utreg punk, with a hint of "Swiss Punk Now", a bit of the Australian X’s burliness, but any desire for comparison is overwhelmed by a certain wall of sound and ferocity - on every instrument - that breeds a perfectly nasty sense of empathy. Empathy for a visceral breeze, for the methodical assassination of tedium, for the distilled detestation of our rosy society, and for Tesco anthems. “Animal Fuck” funnels sparse guitars into verses describing the wonderful feelings of bar/dance class/mixer/party hopping to find fulfillment and barrels into a refrain so perfectly harsh and simple that it reminds you that you are such a primate (and that you need whatever distortion pedal this is). “Cosmic Libido” is the most Nixe-y. I believe this band was originally defined by their initial lack of experience in their respective positions, but you can hardly tell. Shouts so raw, guitars so troubling. “Feminazi” offers valuable insight into a British culture that we bastard sons of the colonies can only imagine as the Peep Show cast showing up at a punk show horny and desperate (it also makes for a fitting soundtrack to any episode of that show). “Bag” is the hit here - a droning, absolutely brilliant Brainbombs-ish heavy hitter about the droll existence of the grocery store cashier. One pound is about 1.62 dollars, if you need help sympathizing. “Would you like a bag?”. The collage insert is simply stunning. Apparently their drummer is a young Michael Caine. Raw depictions of a mundane universe, the sounds of a fallen empire. Tops.
Yellow Green Red
Holy crap, record of the month right here! Sadly I caught wind of Good Throb a little too late in 2012 to make my best-of lists, because this is punk rock of the highest order. Picture Pink Dirt’s vitriolic Sex Pistols impression mixed with the unfiltered anger of Crass, that Small Black Pig 7? on Slampt and the self-confident swagger of Foams and you’re pretty close to the maniacal force that is Good Throb. Through listening to these four songs, I slowly grow self-conscious, as if Good Throb are aware of all my little hypocrisies and are going to crawl out from under my stereo and choke me unconscious. Their hatred is more real than a thousand young men in Hoax t-shirts, like Poison Girls if they skipped the art-drama and scraped at your chest with pointy fingernails. And if given the chance, Johan Kugelberg would probably dance so hard to Good Throb, his starched collar would turn yellow before the record stopped spinning. I won’t deny it, I deserve a swift kick to the crotch as much as the next guy, and I’m glad Good Throb are here to deliver it.
Built On A Weak Spot
I can stare at this cover for an absurdly long time, finding more and more nasty little drawings dispersed throughout. It’s quite fun. The fun stops there though, as for the actual music Good Throb bring forth, it’s not something that anyone needs to to do heavy searching for to discover what exactly they are aiming at. That’s because Good Throb are the types that come and find YOU, to drag you out in the street…kick you around a little bit…as they terrorize and scream their messages born of frustration, large and small. I’m honestly hard pressed to think of a record any time recently that oozes as much agitated driven attitude as this one, and it’s only four songs. In this day and age, it’s increasingly difficult to hear items of this mold that carry an ounce of legitimacy, however when a group like Good Throb can very nearly frighten me into never stepping foot into a place of retail of any kind ever again, that’s all the proof I need. Listening to this on headphones, each track is piercing and crude…to the point where I’m reaching to turn it down. How ashamed am I? Incredibly. You win Good Throb.
Ride A Dove
Good Throb are a yet another great new UK based band. If you care about name-droppings: They are featuring members of The Spectres, The Shitty Limits, Tortura and others, but this debut 7" definitely speaks for itself: Good Throb nail down four smashing punk blasts. Snotty blown-out guitars with a out of tune sound are paired with powerful bass lines and furious shouted vocals. The drums balance between being totally supportive and breaking together. Good Throb are heavily influenced by both primitive 70s punk and dissonant uncut postpunk. They've been compared with Kleenex and Swiss postpunk, even if I think the only link between both are their female vocals. So if you need a reference, I think this single sounds like a mix of Crass ,The Proletariat and snotty fucked up three chord punk. It's got a totally authentic no frills attitude and it's just brilliant anger filled punkrock.