In 2014, the best punk scene in the world is in London, England, and the best band out of that scene is Good Throb. KY Ellie and the gang rage through eleven of the most acerbic punk rock cuts to be conceived in modern time, brimming over with true-life vitriol and the means to carry it out. Imagine the murderous passion of The Feederz clenched in the fists of Kleenex with a scratched-up Erase Errata picture disc jammed in a Vomit Visions sleeve and you're close to Good Throb, although there is no way to hypothesize Good Throb without truly bearing witness. Following two stunning 7" EPs, Good Throb annihilate the LP format with more tunes about moronic men, systemic misery and the many ways in which they can both get fucked. Rather than be the one to say it, I'll go ahead and wait until you hear 'Fuck Off' and consequently pronounce it the album of the year.

Still Single
Where the first two singles by London’s Good Throb sort of set a mission statement of rusty-sharp musicianship, stumbling ardor and seriously pissed-off invective, their debut album Fuck Off brings all of these elements into tighter focus, channeling the fury of these women (and male ally on drums, who plays like the sort of guy who’s been growing hair out of his forehead) into a concentrated statement against men in general, and takes a butcher knife and a hearty swing to the Gestapo-like oppression constantly cast off of dudes onto women. Songs like “Crab Walk,” “Central Line,” “Psycho Disco” and incredible opener “Acid House,” with its half-recognized key change in the chorus, examine the safety and chart the exasperation of our narrator Ellie against social situations involving punk, public transportation, dance music and/or booze, caked in filth even when they’re not, dodging unwanted affections from men and the environment (drugs, cat shit, potential walks of shame, and the like). That disdain towards the male gaze and everyday harassment seeps into songs like “Mummy I’m Ugly” (self-image repair), “No Taste” (dismissal at the hands of men in your scene for whatever reason), “You’re Shit” (bad moods), and “Jealousy,” a particularly dark stalker tale lifted right out William Atherton’s role in Looking For Mr. Goodbar. Every chord bashed, every bass note plunked, every thud of the drums, and every wound-up ounce of berating anger coming off of the vocals creates a new angle jutting out from these 11 songs, making them more dangerous to handle with each passing moment as they grind along. No long tracks, either – this is stick-and-move pugilism, with the target being anyone who dared try to fuck with this band, or the loathsome targets of those who adopt this message. Can’t take it? Check yourself or get the fuck out of the way, as you’ll find no sympathies from Good Throb, their records, or this reviewer, lest you suffer the same fate as the laddish prick in closer “Dog Food Dick”: “Tear off your cock/Pedigree chum/Feed it to the dog/You imbecile scum.” Completely bulletproof record from stem to stern, seeping caustic vibes of misandry and misanthropy from every inch. If ever a record deserved a “sawblade” pressing a la that Acrid/Left For Dead split, this would be the one. Repress forthcoming as the initial 572 copies are all but spoken for. (Doug Mosurock)

Trakmarx
Like a thrift store punk jumper made out of recycled dayglo mohair, ‘Fuck Off’ transcends its title/artwork to challenge gender hierarchy to fisticuffs by committee. These uppity neo-Spartans have little or no respect for their elders, and that’s exactly the way it should be. If anyone had tried to tell me how to think back when I still could, I’d have told them to ‘Fuck Off’ too. Meanwhile, back at the plot (damn you, Alzheimer’s), if preceding seven ‘Culture Vulture’ somehow failed to ignite the blue touch paper, stubbornly treading water after the band’s promising debut EP, Good Throb’s first twelve adequately compensates, and then some. Eleven concise and furious tirades against wankers, squares, suits, dicks, dads, dunces and dunderheads, ‘Fuck Off’ doesn’t do prisoners. Musically ever-inventive, twisting, dodging, never plodding, for a record made out of bits of the past, this mother of all fuckers is the epitome of now. In cahoots with Shopping, Frau & Dregs, Good Throb are defining a new femme-centric dawn for capital-based DIY punk. There isn’t a dull moment on ‘Fuck Off’, solid from birth to death. From the wailing Banshee-like guitar figures of ‘Acid House’, via the Ramonic 1-2-3-4s of ‘Double White Denim’, through the expressive riffage of ‘Pale Grey Suits’, all the way down to gender-offender closer, ‘Dog Food Dick’, Good Throb reinvent the wheel with every turn. Singer Ellie used to go to Alcester Grammar, and the spirit of The Cravats and a robust essence of the absurd duly loom large throughout ‘Fuck Off’. We can forgive, but we’ll never forget. ‘Fuck Off’ is a record you won’t forget in a hurry, and Good Throb are a band who have come of age. Come all ye faithful, the party isn’t over just yet.

Punknews
When I first heard the Sex Pistols I was blown away, such was the fury that was delivered especially when compared to most, if not all, of the music I was hearing on the radio at the time. A few years later it was Crass that had a huge impact on me, as their output seemed even more intense and in the UK it was a rallying call for the disaffected youth under the abhorrent leadership of Maggie Thatcher. We all know that over the years, punk lost its shock value and that in many ways it's been watered down somewhat, notwithstanding the large number of bands that are actually protesting and making a racket. So, when a group comes along that immediately brings to mind that sense of danger that I remember from my mid-teens I'm more than ready to get enthused and agitated. That group is from London (UK) and is called Good Throb. Naming your debut album Fuck Off is another sure-fire way of getting people to notice you and in doing so it's better for the band if they can actually back up that chutzpah with something that kicks ass. Good Throb does that without any problem at all. Mixing the bile of Crass, with some Gang of Four post-punk and a huge dose of Cockney Rejects bravado for good measure, Good Throb don't do things by halves and are obviously a group of severely pissed off individuals determined to make themselves heard above the noise of the London streets on which they walk. There is something danceable about a number of tracks on Fuck Off and the bass does a grand job of pumping all of the tracks along, but for me it's the searing, angular guitar work that adds the edge to this record. With KY Ellie offering some of the most caustically soaked vocals I've heard in a while and coming across a lot like Steve Ignorant in her delivery, this record is one with a significant abrasive quality. However, it actually is quite a comfortable listen, or at least it is to me although despite that there is more than a handful of songs that have an acerbic thrust which sends tingles up and down my spine: "No Taste" really does bark and bite in a way that is impossible to turn your back on. Likewise, "Dog Food Dick" is drenched with bile and anger, containing enough energy to power a small city if harnessed correctly. Good Throb is already gaining a lot of favourable press for the no-nonsense approach the band takes and it's all extremely accurate and deserved. I find it interesting when considering Good Throb compared to the likes of Perfect Pussy, a band that has also garnered a tidal wave of positive press but one which I find lacking in any real sense of deep-rooted passion. Good Throb pulls no punches, they're the real deal.

MTV Iggy
Good Throb gets under your skin and turns you out. It is agitated, it is fuming, it is the furious pacing of a trapped animal. Singer KY Ellie’s bark is unwavering as it pogos between pissed-off and frantic. Their appropriately titled album, Fuck Off is an utterly nasty hiss of discontent moored to wax. Angular guitar careens through pared down, feral drumming. The bass plods through it all, creating an insatiable vortex of gutted punk that will suck you in for a convulsive twenty-two minutes. The full-length is more melodic than their seven-inch singles, but the rawness is still there: every song sounds off like a wound, salted and forced open again.People say punk is dead but rest assured, Good Throb is the next generation of miscreants who’ve decided to bellow “CLEAR!” and pump power back into its mainline. Jolted alive again, this latest reincarnation is even more acerbic and drenched in unrest than its ancestral predecessor: Steve Ignorant probably had no idea of the world of pain he would incite some forty years later. “Acid House” opens and delves right into the manic disco that Good Throb is so keen on engulfing you in. It immediately vacillates between furious self-loathing and acerbic bouts of unwavering anger, which carries through all the way to “Dog Food Dick.” With the exception of the contemplative “Pale Grey Suits,” every track glares at the mundane atrocities of life and demands retribution, whether it concerns an asshole on the train or the ugly face of jealousy. Get the album from Super-Fi, Sabermetric or White Den. —Words by Sonam Parikh

Don't Buy
After two solid 7”s Londen's Good Throb move on to the next format on the road to achievement; the much feared 12”! The band pulls it off rather well. What made Good Throb worth your time in the first place remains intact on 'Fuck Off' – funny how that title would have been generic if any other band had used it. Good Throb's singer is as upfront and in your face as ever. I'd really like to see this band live if only to witness Ellie's stage antics. At the foundation of Good Throb's songs is still the stripped down drumming of Louis and clattering aggressive bass playing of Ash-Tray – lovely name by the way. The bass lines drive the songs while Bryony plays jangley at times dissonant guitar chords that sound lost inside the song. Some say this band sounds like No Trend, but obviously no band sounds like No Trend. I'm sure these kids have heard their tunes though. Catch my drift? Although Good Throbs characterics have not been altered, the band isn't afraid to try new things on 'Fuck Off'. Especially 'Pale Grey Suits' is an odd song. The band's songwriting process apparently isn't all that thought out so I'm guessing they didn't decide to go for experimentation. The songs just turned out this way. It makes for an interesting listen. Although not every song is as good as the next, there are some strong tunes to be found on this disc for sure. Personal favorites are opening track 'Acid House' and 'Crab Walk', in which the line “Do you want to go for a drink sometime?” is repeated several times rather retardedly throughout. Somehow that line sticks. Overall the A-side is the better of the two, but it's not an either or kind of matter, now is it? Plus 'Crab Walk' is on the flip so no need to damage the B-side with a screwdriver like you did with the Faith side of their split with Void. As I listen to this record more, the thing grows on me in its entirety. Most importantly Good Throb are doing something no other bands I know of are doing. That should be reason enough to give this record a shot. If you want a band to sound 'tight', it'd be wise to pass on this record. If you're not such a square however, you'd better pick this one up, fuckface. It's pretty damn punk, mkay. Classy artwork too.