Dead Rabids main man Bob Short was a member of seminal Sydney punks Filth before he fucked off to England to become a goth and live in abject poverty. He’s also penned the odd vituperative review for the I-94 Bar. So now it’s your turn. Do your best.

There’s no hint of hyperbole in you being told that the A side is a fantastic song. A stone classic. Dead Rabids are no more and never pulled a lot of people when they were a going concern, but don't let that stop you plonking down your hard-earned virtual cash and picking up a copy before it goes out of print. 

The pathos runs deep on "The Sound of My Broken Heart" and it sounds like something the early Saints would have turned out in one of their more reflective moments. Put away any sharp objects and lock the medicine cabinet.

Flip the single and switch the mood to bathos: "Do the Harold Holt" is an old Filth song (I think) and you can imagine singer Peter Tillman spitting out its message for poliical leaders to jump into the sea three times and surface twice. A resuscitated classic. The Rabids' abbreviated take on "White Rabbit" sounds positively doom-laden and there's a harsh beauty in its acrid chords. Feed your head some squat food.

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The latest in a spate of singles. Just when you'd pegged these veterans as a freakbeat-psych band, the A side has a vaguely surf sound to the guitars; the B side is ’60s-infused pop with a reedy keyboard texture and a slightly dark edge. Welcome to the sound of The Neighbourhood Strange, the English quintet from Salisbury.

“Russian Spy” references the Skripal poisoning scandal that put their home town in the news in a way that the Druids never could. Marcus Turner’s elegant yet edgy vocal gives the song a touch of cool reserve while the guitar lines play tag. “Many Secrets” takes a couple more spins to make an impact and then makes itself right at home. The guitarwork is a stand-out.

There’s a CD edition that adds three bonus tracks: “Mary Mary” is a moody chugger. “Walk on Water” is a lost love tale with spacey guitar and an impassioned, out-of-sorts vocal. “Desert Sand” is a rambunctious near-instrumental and the pick of the bonuses. With this sort of variety, you have to wonder where the album will land. 

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It's a single by Deathwish, precursors of The Chosen Few (the Aussie punks - not Ron Asheton's early band) on new label Fantastic Mess, an independent spin-off of Buttercup Records. This recording is liver than you'll ever be, both sides from a gig in a hall in country Victoria in December 1976.

"Night Creature" is light on for lyrics but well-refined in its proto-punk intent; future Chosen Few engine room of Cal McAlpine (drums) and Ian Cunningham (bass) lock into a serious groove. The song hinges on a repeated guitar figure and sounds like Link Wray on Melbourne Bitter.

Status Quo never rowed my boat even before they sold out to the Red Right Hand of an Australian retail giant, but Deathwish's faithful rendition of what was then a Top 40 hit once more underlines that the considrable punch The Chosen Few packed didn't develop overnight.

Of course this one won't last long and naturally it comes in five editions. Drop Scotti a line at his label's online HQ to procure.

1/2

A taste of the forthcoming new album, this double A-sided single single puts Fast Cars in a place of their own. It's elegiac dream pop with an edge and a long way removed from their mod and powerpop beginings.

Those Sussex Hotel days are long gone. The band is now a core duo of Sydney multi-instrumentalist Fabian Buyrne and UK-domiciled vocalist-guitarist Di Levi. The songs are children of the digital age, worked up in disparate studios and assembled across the Internet.

"Stainless" is pop song of sharp contrasts with sarcastic lyrics ("nothing sticks to you") elegantly rendered by Di Lev,i atop a bedrock of flint hard, buzzing guitars. There's plenty of space in the production.

"Real Love?" Is instantly sunny, thanks to chiming guitar, Di's lilting vocal and a lusher backing. Piano and a pulsing bass-line, buried deep in the soundscape, round things off nicely. It's a song about being alive while savouring your surroundings. Pop with a capital 'P'.

3/4 

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There’s a whiff of genius about the concept: Twelve bands on a seven-inch single. Not one song longer than a minute. Yeah, I hear ya. Sound on a vinyl single degrades the closer the grooves are crammed together. Hence, the brevity of the songs. And it’s punk rock. It’s not supposed to be audiophile.

Some of these bands you may know and others may be new. A compilation of this order is a public service, of sorts. It’s is a way to sample the unfamiliar and chase down their output if they row your boat. Musical democracy in action.

If you’ve spent any time in Wollongong, you’ll know it as Sydney’s less pretentious cousin. Much of the music from the onetime steelworks city is the same way. So here’s cheers to The Leftards, your new favourite punk band. 

As a bunch of older dudes from shop-soiled local bands like Bulldoze All Bowlos and The Dark Clouds,The Leftards have no compunction winding things back to the late ‘70s when everybody knew rap was crap and techno was a college where mechanics went to do a trade. This is the second Leftards seven-inch release and puts four inspired songs on a vinyl single.

Buzzy, fuzzy guitars, nagging and damaged vocals, yob humour and social commentary all sit side by side. The sound is a little shambolic - like a loose version of the Misfits - but nobody's shooting for AOR airplay.