Welcome to Difficult Fun! Each month, SPIN will spotlight the best punk on the planet and discuss it here, with the ambition of challenging preconceived notions of what the four-letter word actually means and, ideally, entertaining readers in the process. Purists, piss off! Everyone else, enjoy.

Like a hardcore band growing too big for its britches, reaching the height of niche popularity and calling it quits before having to sacrifice themselves to callous national press, challenging interpersonal conflicts, and, like, the attention of Fred Durst…. This iteration of Difficult Fun must come to an end. It’s been a wild ride, full of punk but mostly full of stuff that can only be described as “punk” here. There’s beauty in chaos, and we can guarantee every single album shared here has probably annoyed someone’s parents.

More from Spin:

• The Rise of Second-Wave Egg Punk
• Grrrl Gang Are the New Darlings of Southeast Asian Indie Rock
• Difficult Fun: January 2022’s Best Punk

That said! It would be a disservice to everyone not to go out with a bang, and we here at SPIN HQ happen to think June 2023’s musical offerings are some of the best to date. Do we say that every month? Duh. But it’s rough out here for a road dog, so take pleasures where they appear. So go out and buy a goddamn record.

feeble little horse, Girl With Fish

The best new band going—not punk, per se, but certainly embodying a DIY ethos—and noise-y, shoegaze guitar riffs and freaky-deaky lyricism. But, like, how can declaring “I’m the only one who sees me naked” in a chorus not be punk? You’ve probably already listened to this one. We’re simply suggesting you do it a second, third, and 14th time.

Snooper, Super Sn​õ​õ​per

Paper mache, puppet punk from Nashville—for those still mourning the Diarrhea Planet / Jeff the Brotherhood garage-y guitar days of the Southern capital need to give this one a spin. Chatty, angular, art-y frustrations.

nyxy nyx, anything

The shoegaze band Nothing are hometown heroes in Philadelphia, but seeing as they’ve only been a band since 2010, it feels crazy to say “we’re in a post-Nothing moment.” But friends, we are in a post-Nothing moment. Enter nyxy nyx and their distorted psych goth, informed by a beloved local band but made all their own. It Is ironic, maybe that this mind-melting record is titled anything.

Fantasma, Demo

A friend told me to listen to Fantasma because they “sound kind of like Camera Silens, but from Buenos Aires, Argentina.” If that doesn’t inspire you to immediately hit “play,” I worry for you, son. It’s raspy post-y punk, a far cry from the early Disclose-worship tapes I usually seek out on their label, Educación Cínica, but ferocious nonetheless.

Grrrl Gang, Spunky!

Two years ago, Indonesian band Grrrl Gang hit our radar for their glossy indie-pop single “Honey, Baby.” Now, they’ve changed their sound: dropping their penchant for imperfection-free dream-pop and diving straight into powerpop-punk. Shout along to the chorus: “I was born in the pit / I gave birth in the pit / I never shave my pits / Let me swallow your spit.”

GLAAS, Cruel Heart, Cold Summer

If you can only listen to one song on the latest from Berlin anarcho-post-punks GLAAS’s new one, Cruel Heart, Cold Summer, let it be the title track: that saxophone courtesy Ruby Mai sounds like it was excavated from the deepest depths of hell. In a good way.

Kinlaw, WELD

Perhaps we’re stretching the definition of punk and its many subgenres a bit too far here, but producer Kinlaw describes this record as “global noise-rap punktronics from a global guest cast of MCs and vocalists from Bristol to Togo,” and that’s enough for me. It’s unlike anything you’ll hear all year: a truly universal release, where the great equalizer is frustration…which is different from straightforward aggression: closer “Siren Ludi” is borderline beautiful R&B, interrupted by gun-shot synths.

Miss España, Neibla Mental

A parent musn’t pick their favorite child—or, at the very least, communicate who their favorite is in a way where they might access or interact with that information—but fuck it. This new one from Miss Espana is the best synth-punk to cross the metaphorical Difficult Fun desk in a minute. Plus, there are real harmonies here. Haters exit stage left.

Spirito Di Lupo, Vedo La Tua Faccia Nei Giorni Di Pioggia

You will listen to Spirito Di Lupo and you will think “Oh, cool, they’re doing an ‘80s Italian punk thing through a UK punk thing filter” and you will be at least partially correct. But a marriage of worlds is better than one standing alone – it’s ferocious hardcore from Milan, an ugly city with beautiful things. The perfect setting for such a sound.

Society, Social Flies

Every month, we’ve tried to make room for the lo-fi primitive punk lovers out there. And this June, it’s Society’s Social Flies courtesy Spared Flesh Records, spunky songs for oddballs everywhere.

To see our running list of the top 100 greatest rock stars of all time, click here.

Welcome to Difficult Fun! Each month, SPIN will spotlight the best punk on the planet and discuss it here, with the ambition of challenging preconceived notions of what the four-letter word actually means and, ideally, entertaining readers in the process. Purists, piss off! Everyone else, enjoy.

If April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain, then there is May in books forever. What, a punk column can’t start with a little T. S. Eliot and Leigh Hunt? The poets are correct—this month was a time for rebirth and flowers and dresses that hit above the knee, where all the freaks in humid climates climbed out of their flooded chambers to present to the world their strangest musical creations. For the books!

More from Spin:

• Spin’s Favorite Overlooked Albums of 2017
• Radiator Hospital – “Pastoral Radio Hit”
• Radiator Hospital Render Sprightly Punk on ‘Cut Your Bangs’

May in punk (and hardcore, post-punk, EBM, indie rock, minimal wave, and however else you’d classify the following selections) was especially giving in surprising places. Below, you’ll hear from different parts of Germany. You’ll hear from a beloved Philly indie rock band that’s been fairly quiet for the last few years. (At the risk of spoilers, remember when he sang the harmonies on Japanese Breakfast’s “Everybody Wants to Love You”? A modern-day classic for the college-aged.) You’ll be transported to space and back again. You’ll have more questions than answers, but your Bandcamp cart will be full. It’s time to pay for art again, baby.

LAFF BOX, LAFF BOX

A little over a year ago, this column went fully goo-goo ga-ga over LAFF BOX’s debut seven-inch (the German band, featuring members of Lassie, Ex-White, Liiek and Poky—that reminder is for those of us who have drunk their memory retention abilities away.) Their debut album is even better: cheer-y, riff-tastic power pop rock for long hairs.

Radiator Hospital, Can’t Make Any Promises

Nothing will make this lowly writer jump like a new one from Radiator Hospital, the scrappy Philly power pop band masterminded by Sam Cook-Parrott. He’s got a keen ear for a hook and a perfectly idiosyncratic indie-rock squawk. Can’t Make Any Promises, the band’s first LP since 2019’s Music for Daydreaming, does not disappoint—try not to get “You’ll live to figure it out” from the lead single “Yr Head” stuck in, well, yr head. It’s a threat and a word of advice. Whatever you’re going through, this too shall pass.

Shrinkwrap Killers, Feed the Clones Pt. 1

The chorus of the opening track “Feed the Clones,” from Shrinkwrap Killers’ latest LP, hits like the Ramones if they made it to Mars and had access to an anxiety-addled synth player. This is Sci-fi punk that isn’t embarrassing, high-octane work clearly inspired by the Spits and Jay Reatard. And if this band believes in lizard people, it is probably in a cute way.

KENO, Scared to Update

Finally, a punk band that treats the technological phenomenon of planned obsolescence as a mirror for the global devaluation of humanity. Or, whatever, man. It’s far too smart for me, but I love that this LP sounds like getting stuck in the mainframe and a post-punk pit in equal measure. Just don’t let the guys from Low Life hear this.

Croatian Amor, A Part of You in Everything

A gorgeous album recorded from the heart of the black hole we call grief, from some of our favorite Danes. No wonder the official description ends with a Rilke quote: “Upon what instrument are we two spanned? And what musician holds us in his hand?”

TUPA, Demo

TUPA is The Simpsons-sampling weirdo punk from Bogota, Columbia. It sounds like it was recorded on VHS, so the theme works on a few levels—but it’s spit-y, raw, angry, mad (like how the English use “mad”) and at times, a little freaky. Good! Great, even!

The Hell, The Hell

This one is for the hardcore purists. It’s a return to form, far more melodic than most of the d-beat barn burners championed in this space. But just because these guys can rip for those who like to dance doesn’t mean they’ve sacrificed any intensity. It’s sick.

Die Letzten Ecken, Talisman

What comes to mind when someone mentions “Berlin”? Is it Berghain? Techno? Doner kebabs at 5 am, after techno at Berghain? All that is cool, but my money is on the killer EBM and minimal wave goth that has become the fabric of the oddball tapestry that is the German capital. And within that framework, Die Letzten Ecken (“The Last Corners” auf Englisch) is the moment. But is their latest, Talisman, punk? Maybe in its experimentalism, its use of the Berlin School, but probably not. It’s just too wonderful not to include here.

Country Jeans, Put Your J. On

The first song on Country Jeans’ Put Your J. On, “Straßenköter” (“Street Mutt” auf Englisch) begins with a couple of cowboys howling like dogs. That’s when the harmonicas kick in. No one loves country more than the beer-drinking prairie punks of Leipzig, Germany—this release sort of sounds like if you asked a bunch of garage rockers to write a western song, having never heard one before, and you know what? It fucking works.

The Dolorous Stroke, The Dolorous Stroke

Who saw this one coming? Matt Korvette, the spirited front person of Pissed Jeans (also the brain behind Yellow Green Red, and apparently now he manages pro-wrestlers? I don’t know, it’s been a while) has teamed up with Jo Livingstone, one of the greatest living critics of our time, for an ambient guitar project called The Dolorous Stroke. From what I understand, it was all done remotely—he’s in Philly, they’re in New York—and the results are haunting, in a noise-y rock way. These are two tracks that feel like a foggy evening, walking slowly through the syrupy humidity.

To see our running list of the top 100 greatest rock stars of all time, click here.

Welcome to Difficult Fun! Each month, SPIN will spotlight the best punk on the planet and discuss it here, with the ambition of challenging preconceived notions of what the four-letter word actually means and, ideally, entertaining readers in the process. Purists, piss off! Everyone else, enjoy.

Sunshine is like a centrifuge for humanity–it can really mix your shit up. Have you motherpunkers spent some time in Los Angeles lately? A blast of Vitamin D will fill you with enough energy to spend long nights indoors, watching a gaggle of 20-something experience Screaming Females for the first time at Teragram Ballroom. Or it will inspired you to check out almighty HIRS kick off multiple blast beats with Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance With Somebody,” at midnight on a school night, or to see ambient noise in a park and become a pool of human sweat in a leather jacket. There’s something to this “go outside,” “touch grass” stuff therapists and internet trolls are always going on about. Food tastes better, your vision improves, music buries inside your heart instead of underneath your skull. Happy 4/20 month.

More from Spin:

• Juxtaposition Is The Prescription On Wednesday’s ‘Bleeds’
• Rising Star
• Wilco Enlists Jason Isbell, Wednesday For Solid Sound Festival

Listen, regardless of where you live, April was a killer month in the world of sub-p punk, and I’m kinda broke because of it. Allow me to burden you with the curse of good taste. Dive into those shallow wallets held together by duct tape because baby, these picks are a real doozy.

Belgrado, Intra Apogeum

Here’s how time works. There’s the period before you first hear Belgrado, and the period afterward. For you first timers, the Barcelona-based post-punk band have seemingly retired their hard-as-hell drums and ferocious riffs for pop-y coldwave, and it’s every bit as intoxicating as their 2011 self-titled LP. (And the drum fill on “Nie Zapomnę”? Come on.) For you veterans: it’s only acceptable to get mad at a band when they change their sound if they start to suck. This is retro-futuristic disco new wave for all. They’re even better.

FEWS, Glass City

We live in a world obsessed with post-punk revivalism (Black Mini, Shame, Dry Cleaning), where the art school educated U.K. cohort dominate cultural conversation in the indie music space. And that’s all fine and good (well, sort of? I like those bands, but y’all can have Fontaines D.C.) but there are other well-dressed Western Europeans doing the rickety-rockity, shoegaze-y, bass-y thing even better. Consider Malmo’s FEWS. Glass City would be released on Captured Tracks to praise from every best-of playlist if there was any justice in the music writing space, but of course, there isn’t. Listen for yourself.

Chime School, Coming to Your Town

Jangle pop about the “breakdown of civil society,” as the description reads, San Francisco’s Chime School have long written lovely songs about social ills, and their Coming To Your Town seven-inch is….more of that. Don’t fix what ain’t broke!

Leggy, Dramatica

“Cutting my hair makes a difference when / I don’t want to be who I am,” sings Leggy’s Veronique Allaer, in her idiosyncratic tone, like if the Breeders go into musical theater. The song is “Drama,” the center of their new self-released LP, Dramatica—an expert collection of their lush femme diy pop, but with some glam punk thrown in for good measure.

Brutalismus3000, ULTRAKUNST

Brutalismus3000, the Berlin-based duo of Victoria Vassiliki Daldas and Theo Zeitner, met on a Tinder date, bonded over the Neue Deutsche Welle band D.A.F. (that’s Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft to you), started making music together, and apparently landed on something on the intersection of techno, gabber, bloghouse and post-punk. Their debut LP, ULTRAKUNST, is a goddamn triumph. And the most German thing you will hear all year.

Wednesday, Rat Saw God

Look, if you follow the good ol’ music press at all, you’re likely already familiar with Ashville, North Carolina’s Wednesday, the best indie rock band on the planet right now and it ain’t even close. Personally, I dig their total embrace of the complications of Southerness. Rat Saw God is all the pride and grit and particularities of geography, but also the shame, too, in certain sociopolitical terms. On the record, there are machine guns, race car drivers, crickets, trucks, Dollywood and Narcan—the lyrics are literary; the riffs are Lynyrd Skynyrd-informed. I hope this shit births a million more bands with lap steel players. (But no phony Southerness. We’ve been through enough.)

Es, Fantasy EP

When the world comes to an end and all we have left are our fantasies of a kind and just afterlife, I’ll hit play on this rockin’ EP from the formidable, frantic-as-fuck London band Es. Take a listen, and then read the second half of this sentence: they don’t have a guitarist. How do they do it? Let that one sink in.

Body Maintenance, Beside You

One of my favorite bands of the last few decades, Sweden’s Holograms, quit making music for some unknown reason. (Fun fact: they were the band that first started uttering the name Makthaverskan in the U.S. and broke all our brains.) They’ll probably never give it another go, but at least we have Body Maintenance. Goths, this one’s for you.

Lasso, Ordem Imaginada

Is Brazil’s Lasso the best new hardcore band right now? I’m not sure. But listening to Ordem Imaginada sometimes gives me the mental image of someone throwing outmoded technology (specifically, a bunch of floppy discs) down a garbage disposal, and I say that as some of the highest praise any band can hope to receive.

Battra//, 2014-2017

If I told you the career-spanning collection of Halle, German’s Battra//, 2014-2017, began with a sample of Robin Williams in Good Will Hunting, you might not believe me. Or, in the worst of all potential reactions, it might turn you off to listening to it in general. But then you’d miss out on some truly face-melting powerviolence, and I don’t want that for you.

Display Homes, What If You’re Right and They’re Wrong

What Amyl and the Sniffers would sound like if they ripped.

Baby Tyler, Imposter

Tetryon Tapes is the new-ish cassette tape subsidiary for Feral Kids Records, and I just learned that so I’m playing catch up. But thank goodness for the fuzzy punk-y pop brutality of Baby Tyler’s Imposter for getting me (and hopefully, you) into it immediately.

SEX MEX, SEX MEX ‘22

San Antonio, Tx’s SEX MEX are too punk to be pop, too pop to be punk, too late to be new wave, as they tell me. The first lines of this album are “sitting in my seat / who are these freaks?”, and that is exactly the emotion a first listen of this tape elicits. It’s additionally disturbing when you realize the tune is called “Electric Chair.” Keep it cooking, freaks. (And they will – a week after I wrote about their release on Goodbye Boozy Digital, they dropped an EP, We’re a Happy Family. It’s also great.)

To see our running list of the top 100 greatest rock stars of all time, click here.

Welcome to Difficult Fun! Each month, SPIN will spotlight the best punk on the planet and discuss it here, with the ambition of challenging preconceived notions of what the four-letter word actually means and, ideally, entertaining readers in the process. Purists, piss off! Everyone else, enjoy.

This column promises the best in “punk” every month, which makes a SXSW the incorrect avenue for coverage. But there are advantages to being poorly behaved.

More from Spin:

• Larceny Bourbon Presents 10 Key Moments From SXSW
• SPIN Makes a Splash With SXSW Pool Party
• SPIN at SXSW: Killer Mike Defies Austin Storm, Debuts New Songs at Rare Small Club Performance

SXSW, the music, tech, film, tv, and blah blah “conference” (what business people frame binge drinking in a different city with far away colleagues) might feel like the wrong fit, but here at Difficult Fun HQ (the most disturbing corners of my noggin, which SPIN graciously allows me to puke out on this here website) I’ve decided what the hell, why not turn off this column’s few loyal readers by making it about the single worst thing to happen to Austin since Elon Musk brought his cult there?

Time for the **DISCLAIMER!**: Please take this with a grain of salt. I happen to enjoy this festival, despite its obvious failures, and isn’t that what being a human is all about? Embracing hypocrisy, working for a better future, learning to get up another day? Plus, seeing a shit ton of bands in a series of small (ideally independently owned) venues across a city for a week is fun, too.

So, without further ado, here are the most “punk” things—not just bands, but…things—I witnessed at SXSW. Because nothing is cooler than being precious about labeling things “punk.”

PLEASURE VENOM

Contrary to popular belief, there are few opportunities to discover new music at SXSW if you are a person who already engages in regular music discovery and/or, more realistically, you’re an industry professional spending your week following around the artists you’ve already worked with for ages. But Austin’s Pleasure Venom was a new one for me—hardened guitar solos that didn’t slow the intensity of their noise punk, frontperson Audrey Campbell’s raspy scream giving way to “Yes Daddy!” shrieks while rocking a hand fan and a wig that gives new license to the expression, “the higher the hair, the closer to God.” That’s amore.

CHULITA VINYL CLUB

Y’all know about Chulita Vinyl Club? The vinyl DJ collective made up of women, gender non-conforming, non-binary, LGBTQ+ and self-identifying people of color who, according to their mission statement, use their records as a form of protest against cultural erasure? Whose vinyl selection and curation is cooler than anyone you know? Well, I saw them play at an avocado activation (?) and it was sick. They also spun between sets (especially great after a Blondshell set) at Wednesday’s SPIN party.

SOMEONE WITH AN ACTUAL DESIGNATED DRIVER

With the advent of Uber and Lyft, and as a NYC-based anorak, it’s been years since I’ve heard of someone acting as DD. And then there I was, sitting on the sidewalk shoveling an overpriced veggie burger into my mouth at three in the morning, when I heard someone’s sober friend say it was time to go. Getting home safe is sick.

POISON RUIN

At one point during the week, I said aloud to my friend Tricia “It is just like a New Yorker to fly thousands of miles just to see a Philly band,” as someone turned around to say, “I fucking feel that.” Anyway, Poison Ruin’s Medieval-inspired massacring slaps; I can’t wait for their Relapse Record release to take over this column in April. The only thing that could’ve made their 2 p.m. Side Bar set better is if it was, like, at a recycling center, or on a bridge, and also it was Chaos in Tejas. The free hot dogs were clutch. SXSW!

A PEDICAB DRIVER DENYING SOME DRUNKSTERS A RIDE

Those little bicycle dealies with the cart in the back have a motor in it, but it’s not punk to treat humans like cattle.

ALL THE TIMES I MISSED MARGARITAS PODRIDAS

You know the band this column was totally losing its mind over last month? Well, they were at the music industry clown show, and I missed them three times: once, because there was another showcase I was prioritizing, twice because of a flash flood where the bouncer at Hotel Vegas yelled at us to “seek shelter” at the organic wine bar next door, and a third time when I saw them load into a goofy burlesque-themed club downtown on St. Patrick’s Day, followed them in only to find them unloading—someone tried to add them to a last minute showcase the following night, not Friday. If anyone has seen this band, please send a note to tips@spin.com.

FUCK MONEY

It would be a tragedy to go all the way to Texas and not talk about a few killer ATX acts, so here it goes: FUCK MONEY, (featuring members of BLXPLTN and Future Death), are a self-described space-punk act that hits like one of those HEB delivery carts controlled by a mad man with the need for speed. They played [redacted] warehouse and a house show and probably a bunch of other ATX joints like they were setting fire to banks in the center of hell. If you’ve heard the hype, believe it.

….

And now, for what you really want: SXSW was a fun and ultimately irrelevant ride for DF, but March produced a million great “punk” releases I’d be completely remiss to, well, miss including here. So, without further ado, five bands who knew better than to ever consider trekking down to play for Doritos, or whatever, rapid-fire style:

GEL, Only Constant

The best hardcore band on the planet returns, bigger and more brutal than ever. What did you expect?

MSPAINT, Post-American

Synth punk ornamented with dial-up and fax machine fuzz—it’s only time before U.S. society becomes similarly outmoded.

Home Front, Games of Power

The first time I cranked up “Faded State,” the joyful primitive punk opener from Home Front’s Games of Power, I thought their synth line was ripped from The White Lotus theme song. But that’s only because I was South by So-sleep deprived. This LP is perhaps the most accessible of everything listed here, but don’t let that fool you: it’s still tough as nails, just at the intersection of hardcore, post-punk, and real-ass rock ‘n’ roll.

The Reds, Pinks & Purples, The Town That Cursed Your Name

Dreamy, self-aware post-indiepop—so obviously and deliciously a Slumberland Records release.

MYSTIC 100’s, On a Micro Diet

The Olympia band formerly known as Milk Music returns to their psychedelic rock. RIYL: Slamming drinks on the curved wood bar at a rural dive.

To see our running list of the top 100 greatest rock stars of all time, click here.

Welcome back to Difficult Fun! Each month, SPIN will spotlight the best punk on the planet and discuss it here, with the ambition of challenging preconceived notions of what the four-letter word actually means and, ideally, entertaining readers in the process. Purists, piss off! Everyone else, enjoy.

Difficult Fun has risen from the dead! Ya miss it? Where did you even get your hot punk tracks over the last nine months? That’s a whole human gestation cycle’s worth of nothing. Apologies for that. (That goes double if you’ve replaced your new song diet with, like, a Spotify playlist.) Nothing beats a person spilling their musical heart out onto the internet for judgment and pleasure. It’s like journeying down your favorite reddit rabbit hole, without the social punishment.

More from Spin:

• Best Albums of 2025 (So Far)
• The Goofy Hell of The Tubs
• Blast Rites: Memoriam’s Karl Willetts Returns to the Battlefield, and More of February’s Best New Metal

For those new to this section: welcome! Every month, I’ll pick the very best in punk and all her very many subgenres for you to listen to and impress your friends with. Difficult Fun’s definition of the genre-word is fast and loose – as stated in the very first edition of this column two years ago, there are no definitive musical histories, punk is punk, you might as well embrace the chaos before everyone’s records fail to decompose and become maggot food for the most ambitious larvae. Some of you will hate this column. Some of you will scroll through, press play on seven seconds of a new record, and form an opinion. A recent study at New York University found that most people can determine whether or not they like a song after listening to it for a few seconds – we’re talking 5, 10, even 15 – which is great, because some hardcore songs are only like 43 seconds long.

Or is that devastating? I don’t know, man. Life is long and nothing matters. What I do know is that the following 13 bands are totally deserving of your full attention…or as many seconds as you’ve got to spare.

Rodeo Boys, Home Movies

Getting Difficult Fun to sign off on a grunge-y, punky-pop, queer as fuck cowboy band signed to Don Giovanni Records? With a name like Rodeo Boys? Come on, that’s as easy as shooting fish in a barrel. (Replace that with whatever down home colloquialism you like—as long as it is clear that this record rips.) The Lansing, Mich. band does it again! “Sugar” is the first single from their DG debut, Home Movies, and I triple dog dare you to give it a single listen without scream-singing, “I’m standing in my crib / Banging my little fists / Nobody gives a shit” to yourself in the mirror.

Ordinance, Demo

Remember the good ol’ days of Swedish d-beat? Hardcore that takes itself extremely seriously, but like, is good enough to warrant taking itself too seriously? Boy, do we have the demo for you. Richmond, Virginia’s Ordinance. Seek your teeth into that one.

Heaven’s Gate, Heaven’s Gate

So undeniably good that Hank Shteamer at Blast Rites is into it. (I kid! But isn’t it great when the metal and punk kids can get along? Lemy died for our sins.) Heaven’s Gate is thrashing metal-punk from Tampa, Fla., courtesy of singer Tony Foresta (Municipal Waste), guitarist Mike Goo (Warthog), bassist Jeff Howe (Reversal of Man), and drummer Paul Mazurkiewicz (Cannibal Corpse). In these parts, we call that a supergroup. In Florida, they probably call that, like, Tuesday.

NAG, Human Coward Coyote

Listen, this record came out in January, but Difficult Fun has been gone for almost a year—cut me some slack. Nag’s Human Coward Coyote is the center slice of a Venn Diagram where the exterior circles are “dark punk,” “darkwave,” “post-punk,” “hardcore punk.” So, you know, the intersection of everything this column is about. Give it a listen, it’ll tide you over until Gel returns.

The Tubs, Dead Meat

You know when people are really stoked on how cute a baby is, and they’re like, “I love you so much, I’m gonna eat ya!” I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: The Tubs’ Dead Meat is so good I want to eat it, puke it, eat the puke, and puke it out again. More articulate critics have compared them to Richard Thompson fronting The Feelies, which isn’t right but it isn’t totally wrong in principle, either. Let the record show that there is no-better harmony than the one on “sniveling sycophant” on “Sniveller,” and there likely won’t be another one as great all year.

Also let the record show that anglophilia gives you brain words but in this particularly jangly instance, it is totally passable. Three-fourths of the band were formerly in Joanna Gruesome.

Blushing, Tether/Weak

If you thought Cocteau Twins worship was reserved for bands from Los Angeles, think again! Austin, Tx’s Blushing is My Bloody Valentine for carnivores, and we’re eating tonight, sweetie. Am I just making stuff up? Of course! Is this the best dream pop band in recent memory? Also of course! Two things can be true at once.

Splizz, Splizz

Fans of German post-punk would be wise to follow Phantom Records immediately—it’s how I came across Splizz’s self-titled. If this band weren’t performing in German, and if their tape didn’t kick off with some French, I’d swear it was recorded in 1980-something industrial U.K. Das ist gute scheiße! Ja!

Sial, Sangkar

Sial’s Sangkar is heavy-as-hell hardcore noise-y punk from Singapore, all buzzsaw blast beats and melt-your-face vocals. When the world ends in seven weeks, I hope to be listening to this, while, like, chugging beers and pissing on the graves of the men who’ve exploited me. You know, normal healthy person revenge stuff.

Dignan Porch, Electric Threads

There is a special place on earth for melodic, lo-fi, pop-y, punk-y psych, and it is probably Toulouse, France. Because that’s where Hidden Bay Records is headquartered. I don’t know what eau de bulle they’re drinking over there, but their taste is never off. Like in the case of Dignan Porch, the project of Joe Walsh and Electric Threads, his latest LP. It’s so sunshine-y, you’re going to need shades.

Tombouctou, Tricky Floors

As stated above, punk has been used very loosely in this column since Difficult Fun began—it’s more of an ethos, than anything else, and it’s probably most applicable to something like “DIY” and “hyperpop” in 2023 anyway—and it is in those instances of fluidity that music gets most exciting. Lyon/Toulouse band Tombouctou are pros at detouring: arty no-wave noise in some moments, swaggering primitive punk in others.

Crushed, Extra Life

He was in Weekend. She was in Temple of Angels. Together, they make perfect shoegaze pop/trip-hop. Can I make it any more obvious? The dreamy duo of Shaun Durkan and Bre Morell are crushed, a new Los Angeles-based project your favorite bands can’t get enough of. Get on board before you’re left behind, as they say.

Physique, Again

It’s good crust shit. Smelly, mad-at-the-world Olympia noise. You could compare them to FRAMTID, and you wouldn’t be the first. FREE YOURSELF. HOPE IS THE ENEMY.

Margaritas Podridas, No Quiero Ser Madre

Look, you need to press play on No Quiero Ser Madre immediately. I can feel it in my mother-heckin’ bones: it’s going to be a big year for the Hermosillo, México band Margaritas Podridas. If you hold the correct opinion that Hole is a better band than Nirvana, do not finish the rest of this blurb, immediately go press play. They’re touring the Pacific Northwest with Mannequin Pussy this year, which is a double bill worth flying out for. Catch ‘em while you can.

To see our running list of the top 100 greatest rock stars of all time, click here.

Welcome to the latest (and, well, last) edition of Difficult Fun! Each month, SPIN has worked to spotlight the best punk on the planet and discuss it here, with the ambition of challenging preconceived notions of what the four-letter word actually means and, ideally, entertaining readers in the process. Purists, piss off! Everyone else, enjoy it – one last time.

Ever get the feeling you’ve been cheated?

More from Spin:

• Listen to “It’s Not Enough,” the Johnny Jewel-Produced Single From HEAVEN

This is the end. The curtain call. That van’s loaded and we’re all going home. After a year of benefit comps for Greek squats, blackened hardcore from the basement, dosed in gasoline power pop-rock, BDSM post-punk, freaks and geeks and too much d-beat — that’s all, folks. Like all great New York hardcore bands, Difficult Fun is calling it quits on our first birthday. It’s been a great ride. I cannot thank you enough for hanging in there, for every ahistorical tangent and wry attempt at distracting the world from our eternal and inconsolable suffering with the same three chords.

I started writing this final intro chapter in Buenos Aires after a pleasant back and forth with post-punk band Balvanera and after seeing dream indie pop-punks Las Ligas Menores play for well over an hour despite being second on a four-band bill. (Do NOT do this in the U.S., unless you are as great of a band as they are.) For all its shitheads and pleasures and shitheads who give us temporary pleasures, I will never cease to be amazed by the connectedness of the punk world, that no matter where you go you will always have a friend in that country or city who’ll show you where to buy records and what drugs to avoid. Walking away from this column feels like shuttering that door a bit — well, not entirely, I’m simply making room for other opportunities — but it’s definitely worth being self-indulgent about. If you like this borderline-unlistenable music, surely your hobbies include complaining and holding deranged opinions on the shit that most people actively like, right?

In an effort to avoid all sentimentality — that’s for the weak! A lazy writer’s crutch! — I’m gonna get straight into it. Here are the best punk and punk-adjacent releases of April 2022. When I die, I look forward to seeing you all in hell.

Sugar World, Lost and Found

Would it be Difficult Fun’s swan song if we didn’t kick things off with a release that is arguably un-punk? Such as a collection of shoegaze-y indie-pop by San Diego’s Katryn Macko and Ryan Stanley (formerly of the great Florida band Naps), many of which are covers of pop stars? Including a morose take on Lady Gaga’s “Paparazzi”? Well, you’re welcome. When Macko sings “Rock and roll was just a joke/the punchline was the saddest thing you wrote,” on opener “Sabbath Still,” it cuts to the core. Crying is punk. Whatever.

Society, All Flies Go To Hell

Back in February, if you can remember that far back, I wrote about Toe Ring, a great band from Philadelphia with a disgusting name. Because there’s a worldwide shortage of musicians and everyone is in each other’s bands, this month, I’m heavily into the depressive depravity of Society, Sims Hardin of Toe Ring and Mesh’s fame’s other project. It doesn’t get more lo-fi than this. In a relatable narrative: All Flies Go to Hell sounds like raiding a stranger’s kitchen at a house show while the band plays in the basement below. The carpet is sticky. You’re trying to convince yourself that this is fun and then guess what? It kind of becomes fun. Well, it does when Society plays their jaunty little riffs about feeling like shit.

The Hazmats, “Empty Rooms”

Empty Room, a new seven-inch from the new band The Hazmats (featuring members of Chubby & the Gang, Game, and Big Cheese, released by Static Shock Records) is so good it makes me want to punch a wall, which is exactly what my high school boyfriend said after drinking too much ouzo and right before he punched a wall. This is jangle-ass pop that makes me wonder what kind of jolly pop the Marxist band McCarthy would’ve made if they weren’t so damned depressed all the time. For fans of Teenage Fanclub and ascending riffs. I’d tell you to buy it, but they sold out.

Lassie, Temporary Cemetery

For funny punks who wish Powerplant would keep to the old stuff, I present Lassie. Look, I agree that German chain punk is too damn serious these days. These guys are absurdist as hell and certainly critical of our digital lives, and that’s perhaps why this is so nervy and irritating, but frankly, it makes me want to dance.

EXWHITE, Estray EP

Upstrokes for Sheer Mag fans and funny jocks! This might be the most listenable thing on this list.

Erste Theke Tontraeger Records Good Times Comp, Vol. 3

ETT doesn’t pay me but they might as well: at this point they could run over my foot and I’d ask them to back up and hit the other one. The Mannheim, Germany label knows a delightful dirtbag garage punk band better than anyone, so why not listen to 46 of some of the best in one place?

Dr. Sure’s Unusual Practice, Remember the Future Vol. 1 + 2 LP

I feel about Dr. Sure’s Unusual Practice the way some people feel about Parquet Courts — it’s undeniable, enigmatic post-punk with a sense of humor. And with synths? And a vocal performance ripped straight from Devo instead of something much more obvious? You can feel good about this one.

HEAVEN, Starless Midnight

The gnarliest punk comes from Texas and if you’ll take anything from this column, let it be that. Heaven’s Starless Midnight seven-inch is bone-crushing, shit-kicking punk, retro-leaning in some ways and totally revelatory in others. Stay mad, y’all.

To see our running list of the top 100 greatest rock stars of all time, click here.

Welcome to the latest edition of Difficult Fun! Each month, SPIN will spotlight the best punk on the planet and discuss it here, with the ambition of challenging preconceived notions of what the four-letter word actually means and, ideally, entertaining readers in the process. Purists, piss off! Everyone else, enjoy.

Do rich luddites exist? Or do the very wealthy view the advent of technology — all of the industries Silicon Valley hopes to disrupt — as additional opportunities to make money, to mechanize working class jobs, to eradicate the middle class? I thought they all moved to Wyoming and Texas for the conservative politics, big private land, and lack of taxes (who needs to better the neighborhood when you’re the only one in town?) but maybe there’s a deeply felt desire to “return to roots” from the safety of a ranch-mansion.

Many of the picks in this month’s column are retrofuturistic — modern technology abounds, but there’s a thread of familiarity in each, in a deep desire to better understand our world and rip up the bits that don’t serve a communal whole. Others are vintage obsessed. That’s life — a series of dangerous and delightful contradictions. That, or there’s been too much Grimes in the news lately, and I fear her pseudo-intellectual AI-cheerleading could genuinely mess with the heads of young communists. Or maybe I’m a luddite? Maybe these are just the unhinged musings of a lowly columnist, sitting in front of her laptop, asking it to murder her like all good sentient robots in every science fiction movie ever made.

Anyway, March had some good tunes. (Did you hear Drunken Sailor Records reissued Altar of Eden’s Chimeras on vinyl? And right after I copped the cassette. What a pity.) Read on, young warriors.

Various Artists, Under the Bridge compilation

When the internet started investigating whispers of a twee revival, this is what I was hoping for: tooth- (and heart)-aching, sugary-sweet indiepop. This Under the Bridge compilation features new ones from Sarah Records alums The Orchids, The Wake, and Boyracer, which should be justification enough for its place on this list (what is this music except gentle punk?). After one listen to Tufthunter’s “Monsieur Jadis,” project of Talulah Gosh and Heavenly’s Peter Momtchiloff, I really thought I understood French. Just for a second. Turns out, I’m only fluent in jangle pop.

Ex-Vöid, Bigger Than Before

Hail Satan, it’s Ex-Vöid. The London-based band (fronted by Joanna Gruesome singers Lan McArdle and Owen Williams) is ferociously melodic, hook-heavy indie pop-punk with dual guitar solos and exhilarating choruses so delicious, I can’t help but wonder if they’re bad for you. In an era where the indie rock band has left and the soloist shines, Ex-Vöid reminds us that bands can still rock, and they’re actually quite good. This is an outstanding debut album from a group of musicians that hopefully have many more to come. Just, wow.

Tha Retail Simps, Reverberant Scratch: 9 Shots in that Dark

Skronky, funky, punky, derelict rock ‘n’ roll — I don’t have any proof that Montreal’s The Retail Simps are America’s happiest garage punk band, but they certainly sound like they’re having the best time, and that makes their “what if the Velvet Underground had written ‘Wooly Bully’” deviations a joy to listen to. Plus, bongos!!!!!

Ghost Bitch, Blood and Honey

Ghost Bitch, the musical moniker of Stasia Kowaleski, started like so many projects: after feeling rejected from traditional music-making avenues (in this case, as a child, she was told her hands were too small to really play guitar). Then she found no wave, noise, industrial, punk — rejecting rules that had been passed down to her and to all of use from men. Thankfully, her debut tape is a holistic rejection of that: it fuzzes, it shrieks, it haunts. It’s great. Of course it is — you may remember Kowaleski as formerly of the duo Women of the Divine Orgasm, featuring keyboardist/drum machine aficionado Sarah Moore.

Neutrals, Bus Stop Nights EP

I’ve enjoyed Neutrals from afar for a couple of years now — they had two seven-inches on indipop Slumberland Records, after all, and my love for founder/operator Mike Schulman (of Black Tambourine fame) knows no bounds. So imagine my surprise when I learned punk stalwarts Static Shock issued their latest EP! Whatever label they’re on, they work: this is Television Personalities worship, and it’s perfect pop.

NO FUTURE, Death

I’ve always been fascinated by Australia — its major cities share only a fraction of its coastline, almost half of its land is uninhabitable, producing wildlife so wild you could convince most people they’re animals from a horror film and not every day reality. That makes Perth so interesting: on the west coast of the country, it, too, is fairly isolated — fertile ground for hardcore. Enter No Future, and their Death EP — straight to the jugular, raw as fuck, d-beat punk. It doesn’t get more real than this.

KLONNS, Crow

It has been a minute since this column included hard as hell crust, and I apologize. I haven’t forgotten about you spikey jackets: Japanese hardcore band KLONNS and their Crow seven-inch in intense — like taking a chainsaw to sheet metal — explosive, tough guy noise.

Various Artists, SHE DON’T NEED YOU compilation

This Girlsville Records comp is already one of my most played releases of the year: from
the riot grrrl garage punk-pop of London’s Sexaphone and the hilariously biting “Stupid Punk Boy” by Middlesbrough’s Golden Starlet to the arthouse, Stereolab-influenced trance of THREX and the ramshackle punk of the legendary COACHWHIPS — it’s impossible to highlight just one track. The entire thing is brilliant. If you only open your pocketbook for one release this month, make it this one. (Well, that and Ex-Vöid. Obviously. Maybe everything. I’m not your boss.)

Scene Queen, “Pink Rover”

Look, Scene Queen is definitely not punk in any traditional sense, but I’d be lying to you if I said I haven’t spent the majority of early March listening to “Pink Rover” on repeat. The metalcore breakdowns, the trap synth production, the sacrilegious pseudo-Christianity, the appropriation of childhood limericks as feminist outrage? What is not to like?

To see our running list of the top 100 greatest rock stars of all time, click here.

Welcome to the latest edition of Difficult Fun! Each month, SPIN will spotlight the best punk on the planet and discuss it here, with the ambition of challenging preconceived notions of what the four-letter word actually means and, ideally, entertaining readers in the process. Purists, piss off! Everyone else, enjoy.

In the months after November 2016, when election results reverberated across the country and in our heads like a chainsaw to the brain, critical opinions – specifically about music, but certainly across a broad swath of topics – got stupid. Of the idiocy, the most immediately disappointing was that punk would be “good” under a Trump presidency because nothing lights a flame under the ass of anarchic dissidents than total fucking fear of the eradication of human rights. You know, anti-fascism and all its many riffs. Punk is always good, that fear always persists, and I’ve never found an optimistic argument more intellectually lazy then or since.

More from Spin:

• A Day in the Life of…Chris Mac of SIX60
• Dave Grohl Lends His Throne to Greyhawk Bassist Who Was Shot in the Leg
• Difficult Fun: September 2021’s Best Punk

Now, on the eve of war in Europe, I wonder if those opinions endure. (Not sure I see a Sex Pistols song about Germany’s reliance on Russian fossil fuels rallying a generation, but by all means, prove me wrong. Whatever helps you cope.) Music is good for that shit, anyway.

FATAMORGANA, Ahora Aquí, Todavía No

Barcelona duo FATAMORGANA are ecclectists through and through – Ahora Aquí, Todavía is generous with ‘80s drum programming – cold new wave synths sounds that play out like vintage images of the future. Except, of course, these recordings are expansive and minimalist, begging the question: maybe space travel will be democratized and totally retro 50 years from now? But then again, we may all be dead. At least we’re here, now, still (get it?). It’s good enough to dance to.

INYECCIÓN, Porqueria

Tough-as-nails street punk from Chile/Argentina, the INYECCIÓN record (out on Discos Enfermos and Educación Cínica) is a collection of new tracks and demos – skull-rattling dual-gender vocals and what I clock as a sense of humor. At least, the title track is funny. If I’m wrong, I’m wrong. But I’m right about this: the LP rips.

Toe Ring, Footage

Toe Ring is a great band from Philadelphia with a disgusting name. Their latest tape, Footage, was recorded during the 2020 COVID-19 pandemic (you know, the one we’re still in?) and despite that fact, is a truly refreshing take on garage-y, kraut-y post-punk. I believe in lo-fi again.

X-Acto / Paranoise, X-Acto / Paranoise

If there is a theme to this month’s Difficult Fun, I hope it is, well, fun. This X-Acto / Paranoise split courtesy Teramo, Italy’s Goodbye Boozy Digital is absolutely demented – opening with my favorite lyrical stanza of the year so far: “What’s that smell? / I think it’s me / What’s that smell? / I smell like beef.” This one is for every listener of every punk offshoot just wishing the egg punks, synth punks, chain punks, crust punks et al could get along. They can, and it’s insanity.

Liquid Face, II

My original review of this Liquid Face seven-inch was “so good I want to puke,” but I figured that might undersell the deliciousness of their hard as hell, noisy punk assault. It’s all angular synth sounds, garage-y guitars, and buried guttural roars. Intense. Why aren’t all bands Liquid Face?

Powerplant, Stump Soup

Two years ago, London-via-Ukraine’s POWERPLANT set the world ablaze with their math-y, rollicking weird hardcore post-punk (try not to fall for their A Spine / Evidence seven-inch, I dare you.) Now, in 2022, they are a completely different musical outfit. Don’t you just love when bands say, “screw it,” and venture into new, uncharted territory? Stump Soup is strange – it’s literally a dungeon synth album, like something that would absolutely soundtrack a video game, and I think I’m mostly including it here because it’s bizarre. Genuinely shocking. That’s called art, honey.

LAFF BOX, LAFF BOX

Smiley powerpunk from Germany, LAFF BOX features members of Lassie, Ex-white, Liiek and Poky. It also features gratuitous guitar solos that miraculously don’t make me want to dig a screwdriver deep into my ear canal, which is to say it shows some restraint. But, like, the good kind. They never lose the hook. Never lose the hook!

Empath, Visitor

Labeling it noise-pop rock feels too short-sighted. Empath’s second album, Visitor, is as pleasurable as the first – pulling from Jamiroquai presets and sampling Minecraft will cause such enjoyment. If I had a note, it’s that I wish they’d pump up the bird sounds from the first record. And maybe the haze.

As an addendum: for those too scared to see some of the other bands in this column live, you will never have a better time watching a drummer than you will watching Empath’s Garrett Koloski. Trust me on that one.

To see our running list of the top 100 greatest rock stars of all time, click here.

Welcome to the future – like the past, and just as shitty. As the days turn into months and my ability to tolerate the unjust mundanities of everyday life thins with the knowledge of each new COVID-19 strain, this intro section has begun to feel like a method acting experiment in which I try to mimic the frustrations of the music worthy of discussion below. Luckily, we’re not fully there yet – punk is best for exorcising demons, not giving into them – and parody is no way to begin the new year.

So, here’s an exercise (the other one – see what I did there, Satanists?) in optimism. One of the best pieces of writerly advice I ever received was not directed at me: a friend, who wrote a very brilliant book about sex and consent, mentioned avoiding modern slang/contemporary conventions in her writing, because it’s the easiest way to date your work. I think about it all the time. And I also think of how freeing it is to live in the moment, baby, with each passing month’s best punk column. So come on 2022, let’s see what you’ve got. Will these releases date themselves? Only time will tell.

More from Spin:

• June 2023’s Best Punk: Finally Something to Live For

Glaas, Glaas

Glaas is a barbarous post-punk band from Berlin – the kind of post-punk that only really appeals to hardcore kids – and no wonder, because it is a new group featuring members of Clock Of Time, Idiota Civilizzato, Useless Eaters and Lacquer. Every track on this tape rips, but it’s the deranged children’s party music of the keyboards on “I’m The Problem” that stands out to me.

BÖRN, Drottningar Dauðans

I like to think of my life as “before I knew about BÖRN” and “after,” and I’d like to do the same for you. After seven (!) years of inactivity, Reykjavik’s post-punk prodigies are back and angrier than ever, bless ‘em.

LA MILAGROSA, Pánico

This edition of Difficult Fun could very easily turn into Iron Lung Records worship. Hell, you should listen to Comunione’s debut EP, the anarcho-punk solo outfit of Milan’s Alessandro Gentili, originally released on Sentiero Futuro Autoproduzioni. Then you should listen to two new ones from Brain Tourniquet. Wash it down with the spooky SECT MARK. Repeat for better results. But if you’ve only got time for one more, make it Puerto Rican protest punks LA MILAGROSA (“The Miraculous”). Turn it up loud and punch a bigot.

GrPunkCollective, Punks for Biologica Squat benefit comp

Some of the best discoveries arrive with very little information, and GrPunkCollective’s Punks for Biologica Squat is that for me. From what I can tell, this barn-burner of a crust comp was released to benefit the last remaining punk squat in Thessaloniki, Greece – where it has operated for 34 years. The state is trying to shut it down, and that’s fucked. Show your support and open your wallet.

SPEW, HATE DEALER

Something is in the water with these solo hardcore dudes this month, huh? SPEW, the punk project of England’s Tony Bontana ain’t afraid of no reverb – or spacey ambient closers. It’s spooky good.

Insane Urge, Insane Urge

Riff rocking capital-p Punk that sounds like it was recorded by an iPhone in a water glass. So, perfect.

AMMO, Web Of Lies / Death Won’t Even Satisfy

FUCK YOU. PLAY FAST.

Doña Pacha, “Pelos”

Don’t touch it. Doña Pacha is a feminist punk band from San Jose, Costa Rica that I learned about while searching for feminist punk bands from San Jose, Costa Rica. Sometimes, it really is that easy. If this is the future of riot grrrl revivalism, the future is bright.

Aunt Sally, Aunt Sally

Aunt Sally, the self-titled release from the multi-hyphenate 1970s avant-punk-psychedelic-rock group from Kobe, Japan, has been out of print for 40 years. No longer! Fronted by Phew (collaborator of Ryuichi Sakamoto, members of Can, DAF, Einstürzende Neubauten, The Raincoats), Aunt Sally was her college band – an undeniable sign of what was to come. A must-listen.

Mint Green, “Body Language”

I’ve adored Boston’s Mint Green from afar for a few years now – “Body Language,” their first for Pure Noise records, is an evolution of all that I’ve loved and more – moving from Suburban sounds to the angst and autonomy of young adulthood. It’s for fans of plucky, indie emo pop-punk and all its many offshoots. Try not to like them, I dare ya. (And if you don’t – I don’t know, man – that’s on you. Listen to the sugar rush comedown of Steph Green.)

To see our running list of the top 100 greatest rock stars of all time, click here.

Welcome to the latest edition of Difficult Fun! Each month, SPIN will spotlight the best punk on the planet and discuss it here, with the ambition of challenging preconceived notions of what the four-letter word actually means and, ideally, entertaining readers in the process. Purists, piss off! Everyone else, enjoy.

There was hope at the beginning of 2021, and then there was a slap in the face. We have languished; we have endured an ever-mutating and unforgiving plague; we have survived insurrections from domestic terrorists; the Gulf of Mexico caught on fire. I’d say humanity has proven resilient over the course of the last 12 months, but that’s a word utilized to cast meaning on the meaningless, to make suffering some patriotic endeavor. You could call Sex Pistols’ “No Future” a revelant battle cry, but Johnny Rotten went MAGA. To him we say, “The fascist regime / They made you a moron.”

More from Spin:

• Lorde, The xx, Turnstile Gather For Kilby Block Party
• New Blood Orange LP Boasts Lorde, Turnstile, Zadie Smith
• Turnstile Taking ‘Never Enough’ On Tour

Yet – and this is the most shallow transition of all time, but there’s no way around it – solace could be found on record. Some turned to pop music to exercise their demons, others found their way back to the pit, resolute to contort their vaccinated bodies because hell, who knew if they’d ever get the chance to do so again. There’s a reason even the most punk averse fell for the Turnstile record in 2021; it’s a wonderful time to become hardcore-curious. The bands are alright.

And so, December 2021’s edition of Difficult Fun is dedicated to 30 releases that made this shit bearable. In an unusual decision, I’m keeping it as close to punk and its many subgenre offshoots as possible (like, I skipped out on Dark Entries Records’ Back Up: Mexican Tecno Pop 1980 – 1989 knowing full well it is one of the year’s best releases, but when we get into the reissue space… that’s likely a second list.) I’ve also elected not to rank these. Flattening art into numbers – and pitting those numbers against one another – only serves to highlight the patriarchal nature of canonical systems, and I ain’t about that. In the music writing business, it is often considered a necessary evil, but this is my party and I’ll piss on tradition if I want to. Enjoy, freaks!

Turnstile, Glow On

SPIN’s artist of the year is the Baltimore hardcore band Turnstile and their life-affirming Glow On, and as such, you should already be well-aware of the release’s greatness and its surprises: long breakdowns, Latin rhythms, go-go influence, drum machines. But everyone who has told you this album eclipses the hardcore genre is wrong: instead, it takes familiar sounds into new territory, like all the releases on this list.

The Armed, ULTRAPOP

Let’s get the obvious picks out of the way first. ULTRAPOP was featured heavily in the first edition of Difficult Fun. I was enamored with the Detroit collective’s combination of strenuous feedback, chiptune-like MIDI, math-y shredding, and delicate and unrestrained melodies. I still am.

Scowl, How Flowers Grow

Groovy, saxophone heavy hardcore fronted by the effortless toxicity (and at times, melodic) Kat Moss. If you don’t love them now, you will. And soon.

Dollhouse, The First Day of Spring

The next block of bands hail from New York City – NYHC will never die. Dollhouse’s The First Day of Spring marries biting, steel wool hardcore with bright and shiny acoustic guitar melodicism. It’s frustratingly good and it offers a language for these times: “Not caring about yourself isn’t hard / It’s an art.”

Hüstler, Hüstler EP

Hüstler is death rock x hardcore punk for people who pledge allegiance to nothing (except maybe, like, Rudiementary Peni and Christian Death.) Goths rise up.

Porvenir Oscuro, Asquerosa Humanidad

Spanish-language anarcho-punk that jolts up the spine, NYC’s Porvenir Oscuro’s Asquerose Humanidad is a snarling debut – 25 minutes of addictive hardcore venom.

Anti-Machine, Anti-Machine

The world needs Walker Behl’s acidic tongue – formerly the frontman of the defunct Crazy Spirit – so thank god for his new band, Anti-Machine, and their grinding demo.

Taqbir, Victory Belongs to Those Who Fight for A Right Cause

I said I wasn’t going to rank any of these releases, but if I did, Taqbir would be near the top. The Moroccan band’s Victory Belongs to Those Who Fight for A Right Cause is brilliant, static-y synth hardcore – critical of religion, of politics, of those who oppress in the name of their own power.

Sarcasm, Creeping Life

The best English post-punk record of the year, bar none. (Sorry, Dry Cleaning stans, but you’re wrong.)

Fake Fruit, Fake Fruit

Art-y, motorik post-punk from the Bay. Dissonant and delightful. For fans of Wire’s Pink Flag – which is to say, everyone.

We Hate You Please Die, Can’t Wait to Be Fine

We Hate You Please Die’s Can’t Wait to Be Fine is smiley, ADHD-informed French garage punk that I missed this summer and am correcting right now. The songs are written from a place ever aware of its own mortality, but like, in a fun way.

LYSOL, Soup for My Family

They’re built different in the Pacific Northwest – Soup for My Family makes me miss Brown Sugar – this is Seattle/Olympia excellence (reverbed to hell rock n roll, garage punk, moments of fiery hardcore) – complete with skronking sax courtesy Milk Music’s Dave Harvey.

Strong Boys, Homo 7”

Scream it with them: “DON’T WANT OUR BAD BLOOD / DON’T WANT IT CAUSE WE’RE GAY / BUT YOU’LL TEST IT ANYWAY / TAKE ONLY FROM STRAIGHT VEINS / IS ALWAYS SOILED WITH SHAME.” Dublin’s gay hardcore heroes are out to kill and these weapons are sharp.

Nightshift, Zöe

No wave indie art-punk from Glasgow, Nightshift’s sophomore album is too smart for its own good; meditatively minimal with moments of free jazz.

Black Button, I Want to Be in Control

Many of you come here for hardcore that does what other hardcore does not. For you select few, I offer Richmond, Virginia’s Black Button and their squalling no wave distortion and static-y spoken word record, I Want to be in Control.

Palberta, Palberta5000

Because this list is an attempt to stay as true to capital-P punk as possible, Lily Konigsberg’s Lily We Need To Talk Now, and its whimsical poppy-indie punk with Arthur Russell flourish, did not make the cut. Instead, her avant-punk trio Palberta, and their math-y record Palberta5000, is here and worth your appreciation. People like to say the band sounds like early Sleater-Kinney, informed by mainstream pop. In this very narrow and specific example, people are right.

The YeAsTieS, HERE FOR FLESH

St. Louis, Missouri’s The YeAsTies, and their HERE FOR FLESH release is such playful punk you might call is pop – deranged pop, but with an enthusiastic sense of melody.

Ms. Machine, Vår

Ms. Machine is ice cold Scandinavian-style industrial post-punk as performed by three Japanese women, one of which was part of Tokyo’s Harajuku street snap community around the same time as Kyary Pamyu Pamyu. Outrageously good.

Spread Joy, Spread Joy

Chicago’s Spread Joy does a mean Kleenex, among other yawping pleasures. You can’t have enough, so fill your plate.

CLAMM, Beseech Me

Dumb good Aussie indie punk. “I don’t want to fight because I’m a fucking coward,” is the greatest self-aware lyric of the year. I don’t make the rules. Bring them to America, we need them.

Rata Negra, Una Vida Vulgar

Everything La Vida Es Un Mus released this year is worth your cash, but if you only have space in your heart and record shelf for one, Rata Negra’s pop-infused dreary punk Una Vida Vulgar is it. Clock the Ronnette’s “Be My Baby” echoes on “Cuando Me Muera” and tell me I’m wrong.

Cemento, Killing Life

The best post-punk record in recent history; Los Angeles’ Cemento is early 1980s worship, the sound of gray stormy skies, industrialized work; no future, all future.

Altar of Eden, Promo CS

Austin, Texas doom and gloom, this Altar of Eden tape sounds like it was recorded in a glass box, and god bless that tense bass.

Mujeres Podridas, Muerte en Paraíso

Another example of Austin supremacy: Mujeres Podridas (featuring members of Criaturas, Vaaska, Kurraka, Crooked Bangs, every good band of the last decade or whatever) is the movement; Muerte en Paraíso (“Death In Paradise”) is melodic head-banging hardcore for everyone.

PAPRIKA, PAPRIKA

I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again: Brutal spice from New Orleans, PAPRIKA’s self-titled debut is a straight-to-the-jugular assault on greed and all the villainous systems upheld by the amoral plutocrat class.

LOW LIFE, From Squats To Lots: The Agony and XTC of Low Life

My favorite Australian sludgy, tough guy post-punk band that just so happens to criticize macho bullshit at every turn, Low Life, released a new one this year. There’s new restraint here, Iggy Pop worship, and, well, agony. View instructions on how to listen to it here.

Avon Terror Corps x Exist Festival, Resist to Exist قاوم لِوجودك compilation

A ripper with purpose: this is a 36-track compilation released by Bristol, U.K. label Avon Terror Corps in collaboration with Ramallah, Palestine’s Exist Festival—a collaboration with Western and Arabic acts to benefit the Palestinian Medical Relief Society. It’s also an experimentalist’s dream.

Mini Skirt, Casino

Erste Theke Tontraeger Records put out some bangers this year, and Byron Bay Aussie punks Mini Skirt’s Casino LP is unimpeachable: raspy riffs and vocals that siege an attack on British colonialism; a rallying cry for a working class.

Drinking Boys and Girls Choir, Marriage License

Introducing the best skate pop-punk you will hear all year. Daegu, South Korea’s Drinking Boys and Girls Choir understands the exhilaration and scourge of youth, and it sounds so, so good.

Dramachine, ΣΥΓΚΙΝΗΣΙΑΚΗ ΠΑΝΟΥΚΛΑ

Athens, Greece’s Dramachine is more of a project than a band – the ΣΥΓΚΙΝΗΣΙΑΚΗ ΠΑΝΟΥΚΛΑ LP, which they label “devocore,” is an amalgamation of synth-y post-punk, and rap via Greek emcee Sci-Fi River, and coldwave. Deliciously complicated, and not for the faint of heart. Happy listening.

To see our running list of the top 100 greatest rock stars of all time, click here.