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You have a certain expectation when you're delivered an album alongside the words "Drink beer, play loud." There tends to be an innate brainlessness about this type of music - where the carefree is somehow replaced by shouting and a wilful lack of tunes. I don't know where Zig Zags hail from, but would it surprise me if it were somewhere like Melbourne? It would not.

Zig Zags don't disappoint. Opening track 'Braindead Warrior' starts grimly, but proves to be the most interesting track on the first half of the record. Not long ago there was a BBC documentary about the greatest riffs in music history, which included a section on what went wrong around the time hair rock emerged; when musicians forgot how to create a good riff and instead just guitar soloed their audiences to catatonia. That is the spirit behind 'Braindead Warrior', but it's still better than the almost indistinguishable four tracks that follow it, and a bunch more after those.

There is an audience for swift, idiotic music with lyrics about racing down highways while the sky turns red, and so on, but when you find yourself wondering if track two has been running for ten minutes only to see you're already at track five, that really can't be good. Life's too long.

It's not completely without merit though: 'Soul Sound' does well to grind its way into your brain, slowing things down and thumping away like a hung-over Datsuns, while final track 'Voices of the Paranoid' does similar, suggesting these more interesting down-tempo numbers may be the band's strong suit. The best track is probably 'Down the Drain', which rips its vocals right out of The Hives' back catalogue - it's just a shame it lacks the super Swedes' brevity.

When punk started to fall in upon itself at some point during 1977, this is the type of music that resulted: loud, mostly one-paced, fleetingly surprising and enjoyable, but more often monotonous and renouncing freshness as Satan's work. Beer rock, you could call it.

I've just looked up where they're from: Los Angeles. Their Facebook page has them in masks raising a defiant middle finger. To originality, it seems.

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