Before I listen to any record, before I crack open my old Boba Fett wallet and shell out a few bucks for an LP, 7", or whatever, I think to myself: Would Rick Beato like this? That's not a bad way to live your life,
I have come to classify rock 'n' roll fans into two camps: those who get lo-fi or budget rock, and those who don't. I can't explain it to people—believe me, I've tried. You either get it, or you don't. It either awakens a sleeping beast within your soul, or it grates on your nerves. One camp isn't better than the other, mind you; I've just come to realize they both exist, and fortunately, I fall into the camp that gets it. From the first time I heard Supercharger, Teengenerate, Oblivians, and The Drags back in the mid-1990s, a beast opened its eyes and has yet to slumber.
Jacket Burner (aka V. Tiers) knows his craft and can shovel out feral lo-fi punk better than or on par with the bands I mentioned above. Rock 'n' roll comes from and appeals to that primal nerve within all of us—a savage area in the brain that just wants to turn off and function solely on animal instinct. Rock 'n' roll isn't supposed to be in a goddamn museum or in some fucking art gallery for people to admire,
That's why Jacket Burner's Pig Vomit Sessions will probably go unnoticed by many punk or rock 'n' roll fans—if your idea of wild music is some polished, radio-punk or metal hit-making machine, that is. Rock 'n' roll—or especially punk, for that matter—isn't supposed to be polished. You're not supposed to hear the delicate, shimmery tones of a crash cymbal or the nuanced, short, bright vibrations of a snare drum. If you're a "punk" band that takes over a year to record your album or spends over a million dollars to do it, you're assholes. It's fine if you're Rush or something, but don't come at me with this "punk" label after doing so; you're just insulting your fans and embarrassing yourselves.
Pig Vomit Sessions is Jacket Burner's third LP. There was 2025's Eat Shit and Die (also released by Goodbye Boozy) and 2024's Terminal Depression cassette, which I believe was self-released. All of them are monuments to brutal, uncaged lo-fi punk rock! Truth be told, I'd rather listen to Jacket Burner rhythmically bang on a rock with a baseball bat and strum a guitar with three busted strings than listen to the drivel most boutique hipsters call punk these days. So many bands look the part and say the right things, but they are seriously lacking in one essential ingredient: actual conviction to their craft.
Ask yourself: Is what I'm listening to actually making me feel anything? Jacket Burner makes me feel something in my gut. Whether it's rage, anxiety, carelessness, rebellion, peace, or a combination of all of those—whatever—it does what punk rock is supposed to do. It's supposed to make you sweat; it's supposed to make you feel manic and a bit uneasy. Real music is supposed to make you feel alive, like your emotions are so raw and exposed you can almost reach out and touch them. Demand your punk rock be raw, rude, rowdy and reckless. Demand Jacket Burner. Anything else is just a rotting museum relic.
Follow Jacket Burner -
jacketburner.bandcamp.com/music
goodbyeboozydigital.bandcamp.com
