Words by Jim Testa
Jim Testa founded the highly influential zine, Jersey Beat in 1982 which he continues to edit to this day. Through writing for his own publication and a number of other outlets, including as a staff writer for Hudson County’s Jersey Journal, he has championed local, regional and national up-and-coming bands. Punk has always shunned credentials, but rest assured that Jim won’t lead you astray.
GRAND SLAM
ULTRABOMB – The Bridges That We Burn (DC-Jam Records)
For Husker Du bassist Greg Norton, Ultrabomb has been more of a concept than a band, with a different lineup for each album. This time out, he’s teamed with Soul Asylum’s Ryan Smith on guitar and SoCal punk vet Derek O’Brien (Social Distortion, Agent Orange, Adolescents, DI) behind the kit, and the result is a lean, no-nonsense trio that knows exactly what it’s doing.
The Bridges That We Burn doesn’t stick to one lane for long. It tears through politically charged post-hardcore blasts like “Divert/Deflect” and “No Cap,” then pivots into hooky, almost radio-ready punk on “Sicko Rants” and “Look Backward in Anger.” There’s a dose of snotty, profanity-fueled hardcore on “BSS,” while tracks like “Checked Out” and “Artificial Stars” nod back to the melodic alt-rock that Soul Asylum helped define decades ago.
What holds it together is chemistry. This is a true power trio. Norton’s bass is right up front, Smith isn’t afraid to rip into a proper guitar solo, and O’Brien drives everything with the kind of authority you only get from years in the trenches. Vocals are shared, the attitude is consistently pissed-off, the hooks come fast and stick. Ultrabomb may be a shifting lineup on paper, but this version sounds locked in and fully committed. If there’s a sense of urgency here, it’s earned, three lifers playing like they’ve still got something to prove, and not a lot of time to waste.
HOME RUNS
BRAD MARINO – Blowing Smoke (Spaghetty Town Records)
There aren’t many guys still playing straight-up rock ‘n roll without a hint of irony, but Brad Marino isn’t interested in trends, he’s all about hooks, volume, and getting in and out before you overthink it. Blowing Smoke delivers exactly that: tight, punchy songs driven by a crunchy guitar tone and a voice that lands somewhere between power-pop polish and bar-band grit.
If this record had shown up on Stiff Records in the early ‘80’s, it wouldn’t have felt out of place next to Nick Lowe and Dave Edmunds. Marino clearly has that same Rockpile DNA running through these tracks – sharp, melodic, and engaging; not retro, but classic. He mixes it up a bit, with flashes of doo wop, girl-group pop tropes filtered through fuzz, some harmonica-fueled roadhouse raunch, and just enough punk energy to keep things from getting too clean.
The guitar sizzles without getting showy, the band stays locked in, and Marino knows how to sell a chorus without overselling it. It’s a no-frills record in the best sense—just solid songwriting and a feel for what makes rock ‘n roll stick.
BLISS ABYSS – Bliss Abyss (self-released)
Paul Wallner isn’t shy about where he’s coming from – you can practically see a stack of late-‘80s college rock records hovering over this self-titled debut – but Bliss Abyss never feels like a nostalgia trip. Instead, it plays like a smart synthesis of those touchstones, filtered through someone who’s clearly spent time absorbing everything from shoegaze to East Coast post-punk.
Wallner handles nearly everything here—vocals, guitars, bass, keys, even some drums—and that control shows in the album’s dense but deliberate construction. Tracks like “long shot,” “purse,” and standout “spectrophilia” lean into a hazy, multi-layered blur, while “wrecked” and “fragile & furious” open things up with a brighter, more melodic shimmer that cuts through the fog. “Suns on fire, so are you / take off your clothes… take mine off too,” he commands on “suns on fire.” The guy’s not fooling around.
There’s a pedigree here – stints in Some Embers, where Wallner experimented with drop tunings, and the post-punk Wax Idols – but this doesn’t feel like a side project or a transitional step. It feels fully realized. The guitars stack and collide in interesting ways, the arrangements stay sharp, the lyrics connect, and the songs never drift, even at their most atmospheric. From the nervy pop edge of “red disgusting” to the more expansive, drifting “Star,” Bliss Abyss holds your attention because it’s so clearly intentional. This isn’t something you toss on in the background. It demands to be heard, and more importantly, it rewards repeat listens.
COLA – Cost of Living Adjustment (Red Fire Records)
On Cola’s third album, the Montreal trio continues to refine the quiet chemistry between Tim Darcy, Ben Stidworthy, and Evan Cartwright, operating less like a traditional band and more like a three-way conversation where nobody’s trying to dominate. That balance – guitar, bass, drums all pulling equal weight – gives Cost of Living Adjustment a steady, almost understated confidence.
If Darcy and Stidworthy’s previous band, Ought, leaned into wiry post-punk tension, Cola loosens the grip without losing the edge. Darcy sings more now, with less of that half spoken/half sung cadence, the vocals tethered to melody in a way that feels more inviting, even when the subject matter isn’t. The rhythms twitch and shift underneath, while the songs stretch out just enough to let the ideas breathe.
This isn’t an overtly political record, even if the title suggests otherwise. It’s more about disorientation—how to keep your footing when everything feels slightly off. On “Haveluck County,” Darcy’s repeated “oh so lucky,” “oh so healthy” lands with a dry, uneasy irony that says more than any outright statement could.
There are familiar echoes—Wire’s efficiency, Blur’s detached ennui—but Cola never leans too hard on them. Instead, they let the songs unfold in their own quiet way, building tension through restraint rather than release. Nothing here shouts for your attention, but by the time it’s over, you realize it never really let go of it either.
DOUG GILLARD – Parallel Stride (Dromedary Records)
Doug Gillard has built a career as one of indie rock’s most reliable supporting players, whether as a key member of Guided by Voices or through stints with Nada Surf, Bambi Kino, and Cleveland’s own Cobre Verde and Death of Samantha. With a résumé that deep – not to mention countless collaborations – the question isn’t what he’s done, but what a Doug Gillard solo album is supposed to sound like.
Parallel Stride, his first solo release in more than a decade, answers that by not overthinking it. Rather than a pieced-together collection of home recordings, Gillard teamed with producer Tom Beaujour at Nuthouse Studio, and the result feels cohesive and unforced. There’s no sense of studio excess or tinkering for its own sake, just songs that move easily from one idea to the next.
Stylistically, the album covers a fair amount of ground without losing its center. There are traces of twangy alt-country, airy pop, and plenty of guitar-driven indie rock, all anchored by a classic sensibility that occasionally recalls everyone from the Byrds to the Who (and, for me, Yo La Tengo’s more understated moments). If anything, Parallel Stride serves as a reminder of something longtime listeners already suspected: Gillard is more than just a sideman, and fully capable of carving out his own niche in the indie landscape. That is, when he can find the time.
POP FLIES & GROUND OUTS
AMERICAN SHARKS – Not Dead Yet (Permanent Teeth)
Back after a six year hiatus, American Sharks bassist/vocalist Roky Moon and drummer Nick Cornetti rounded up a slew of guitarists for Not Dead Yet, delivering a sound that’s rooted in punk, tips its cap to Motörhead, and treads fearlessly into metal. Given the A-list shredders – GWAR’s Mike Derks, Rise Against’s Kyle Shutt, Red Fang’s David Sullivan, Leo Lydon, and Aaron Echegary – there’s a not-unexpected surfeit of riffage, to the point where Moon’s shrill vocals and all that guitar cross the line between punk and Headbanger’s Ball territory. If you’ve just renewed your subscription to Guitar World and worship Yngwie Malmsteem, you’ll want to check this out. Green Day fans need not apply.
SINGLES
WORM QUARTET – “Whole Lotta Don’t Wanna” (self-released)
Tim Crist – aka Worm Quartet to Dr. Demento lifers, or “Shoebox” if you’re really paying attention – has made a niche out of turning everyday aggravation into sharp, funny pop. “Whole Lotta Don’t Wanna” zeroes in on something a little more insidious: that seasonal brain fog where your motivation just quietly packs it in. The track moves on a Ramones-y pulse with a twitchy ska bounce, all wrapped in Crist’s usual synth-pop insanity. It’s catchy without trying to be pop – more like the inside of your head after a few too many PBR’s. The chorus (lifted from his wife, he says) works because it doesn’t strain for a punchline. It just lands. Like most Worm Quartet songs, it doesn’t overstay its welcome. It makes its point, gets out, and leaves the hook rattling around your head. And if it doubles as an excuse to not get anything done today, that feels intentional.
JESSE MALIN – “Hollywood Forever”/“Rudie Can’t Fail” (Wicked Cool)
Most people would take it easy after a stroke. Jesse Malin isn’t most people. Between his one-man show on NYC’s Bowery and an upcoming memoir, he somehow found time to cut a new single that plays less like a comeback and more like business as usual.
“Hollywood Forever” finds Malin in familiar territory, turning loss into something that still feels alive. Written for late bandmate Howie Pyro, it rides a loose, heartland groove—part Springsteen, part downtown bar band—with Malin sounding as scrappy and hopeful as ever. It’s got a stacked cast (Tad Kubler, Jimmy G, plus his regular crew), but nothing feels overworked. The point isn’t polish—it’s keeping the memory loud. Flip it over and Malin takes on the Clash’s “Rudie Can’t Fail,” which is gutsy to begin with. Instead of trying to top it, he turns it into a group effort—horns, gang vocals, the whole room getting a turn at the mic. It’s messy in the right way, more celebration than cover.
That’s kind of the whole deal here. Malin’s not chasing perfection—he’s chasing connection, and he’s still getting there.
Past Punk Rock Scouting Reports