Their self-titled record Amyl and The Sniffers is a quick 30-minute mix of cultural handshakes between Amyl’s rugged home of Australia and the audience around the world that is slowly realizing how they can shape a revitalization of punk rock. From their gigs online or even breaking into the festival scene, Amyl and The Sniffers contain this time bomb of unfiltered chaos that continues to show through on their self-titled.
As they begin the 11-track journey with “Starfire 500” where the instrumentation is actually the driving force for the first near two minutes before any lyrics hit the scene. The performance on the strings is dirty and feel almost as if they were a step backward into the past where mullets and combat boots raged alongside each other. Then as Amyl and The Sniffers introduce lyrics, the band becomes this unison marching machine that takes little in the wake of creating a regiment and instead begins their own four-man wrecking crew.
Suddenly “GFY” is a firecracker in a black powder factory that crackles and then immediately flies off the deep end where the vocals are almost unrecognizable behind this layer of fuzz and grime. Amyl and The Sniffers have an attitude about them that is irreplaceable and on their self-titled, they are more susceptible to adapting that original k9 bite. Each movement seems to progress in the way of becoming more and more belligerent as pieces of the puzzle are crushed beyond repair. Between the rampant and valiant efforts of the band that tries to break out the harsh vocals, or even the way that each track segues. There is nothing but tough love here on Amyl and The Sniffers.
The Aussie kings and queens march their way to the throne, Amyl and The Sniffers would rather crash land on the crown snapping all the meaning behind it. They are a group of nomad destroyers that travel on conquest through sound and ability rather than rules and jurisdiction.