With a bucket of mud, a bucket of scuzz and a bucket of chicken-Kalamazoo, Michigan's No Bails ooze a thick BBBUUURRZZZAHHH of distorto-chug-chug punk that'll clog the earhole and, for those who get a particular sense of "Yeah, were in a rock band but will probably never be rock stars" humor, puts a smart ass smile on the face.
Sounding a bit like a more jovial and quicker on their feet Flipper, the Aussie punk muck bathing in whatever the cheap American equivalent of the beer they drink, and the guy who never seems able to hold down a job for two weeks that lives in their mom's basement down the road who and tries all day to get his guitar to sound like Tommy Iommi. He can't afford the right kind of equipment though because, well, he can't hold down a job for more than two weeks and lives in his mom's basement.
"Soundproof Room" hits on a Radio Birdman vibe, minus the street surfing guitar leads but with a whole lotta greased stained wah-wah put in it's place, and lyrics that pretty much tell the college boys that think shit like Sublime is reggae that live all around in their town to get lost because they are gonna play as loud as the want.
The b-side opener "Werther's Original" is THE most punk rock ever about the bag of candies that are found in a grandparent's kitchen (and, yes, maybe grandpa is a war criminal). "Skate or Die" three chord thud rock finishes things up with a dose of teenage boredom and the videos games that love them.
http://orgonetoilet.angelfire.com/index.html (yes, Angelfire still actually exists and that is the label's actual website)