Low Life

Low Life

"Ya fuckin’ dog cunt…" Low Life’s modern classic of thugged-out, misanthropic murder-punk, reissued by Alter. Recorded in Sydney in 2012 and originally slated to come out on Brendon Annesly’s Negative Guest List, this wayward study in suburban self-loathing and defeatist black humour ended up in limbo after Annesly’s untimely passing in 2012, eventually seeing the light of day via RIP Society and Disinfect in 2014. The three long years elapsed since have done little to dampen its droogish appeal: on the contrary it now stands as one of the post-2000 Oz underground's most iconic and quietly influential - but still untouchable - artifacts. Nastier than a back-street blowie, its relentless bonehead crunch and slack-jawed, smacked-out repetitions worship at the piss-and-worse-streaked altars of Venom P. Stinger and Brainbombs, while Mitch Tolman's lyrics paint a clear-eyed portrait of life lived in the shit-lane, where king-hits and speedballs constitute light entertainment. On side two all that aggression is sublimated into the drug-numb chorus pedal jangle of 'Dream Machine' and chugging fatalistic darkwave zone-outs 'Emmie' and 'Friends': ironically it's in these more blurry and introspective passages that Dogging howls loudest. However bad you feel, this record will make you feel worse. An all-time favourite. Highest possible recommendation.  




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