The youth of Britain are bored and angry. They're bored of living at home with their parents. They're bored of soul destroying part-time non jobs if they can get them, or unemployment if they can't. They're angry that a government of out of touch posh boys has pulled the rug from under their feet, removing the Educational Maintenance Allowance, closing youth centres and trebling tuition fees. It's therefore hardly surprising that, once again in the year of a Jubilee, loud, angry and belligerent punk is rocking the nation like it's 1976. Ceremony are lauded by the mainstream music press as the authentic voice of UK youth, The South West of England has it's own, impressive, hardcore scene, and even the hipsters are sporting Black Flag tattoos.

Where there was a political undercurrent to the first true punk explosion this year's model is just indiscriminately angry. Raging Londoners Flats' debut album Better Living drips with undiluted vitriol. It's a discordant blast of noisy, hyper-energetic scuzzy rock that couldn't be more perfectly timed to ride the zeitgeist if it bathed in spittle. Lead by Alan McGee's estranged son Dan, Flats are about as far from the dad rock of McGee's great gift to mankind Oasis as it's possible to get. I'm not sure what has got him so riled up but on Better Living Dan sounds like the unloved and neglected child of Steve Ignorant and Johnny Rotten. His screaming, screeching vocal style makes it difficult to decipher the lyrics but I can almost guarantee that they're not extolling the virtues of Conservative policies on youth unemployment or higher education.

The album opens with the tense, sludgy 'Foxtrot' which sounds like Part Chimp being poked with a pointy stick by grunge also-rans Tad. 'Tango' is a saliva spattered son of Discharge that'll have you pogoing around the room like a demented Zebedee on speed. It makes Crass sound like a bunch of lily livered peace loving flower arrangers. There is no let up on this album, no point at which the brutality relents. The anger just keeps on flowing; 'Frostbite', 'Fast', 'Slam', 'Crucifixion', 'Moonwalk', it's a brutal aural assault akin to being beaten around the head repeatedly by an irate young delinquent with anger management issues.

Better Living spits like an angry snake, snarls like an under-fed rottweiler and generally assaults your senses with punk rock so raucous it'll leave your ears as little more than bloody stumps. It should come with a warning sticker to not play loud unless you want to blow the speakers off the wall and find yourself with a noise abatement notice from the music hating council. It's punk as it was meant to be; brutal, rough, loud, fast, angry, primitive, discordant, uncompromising, raw, unpolished and filled with unrepressed rage. It's a full on, no holds barred, punk rock tantrum and one of the most ferocious albums you'll hear in 2012. Be afraid be very afraid.