Songs About Fucking Idiots - The Owen Guns (Outtaspace Presents/Booker Bastard Records)
Those in the know about The Owen Guns’ piss-take attitude and wild performances are have caused “Songs About Fucking Idiots to almost sell out its first pressing in a week. It’s a signal that the drawbridge has been pulled up and the posts are manned in society’s ivory towers as The Owen Guns are poised to seize the palace.
“Songs About Fucking Idiots” is sitting at number-three on the Australian Independent Records Chart, along with safer (and nicer) acts like Pete Murray and Kate Miller-Heidke. It’s a massive achievement and reflects on The Owen Guns’ loyal following.
The Owen Guns have been around since 2020, led by Sean St Leone (aka Sean The Bastard), a raconteur and smart-witted cynic who somehow crosses Uncle Fester from “The Addams Family“ with Dave Vanian from The Damned and ex-Dead Kennedy Jello Biafra.
This Wollongong loudmouth has been a force for years in his hometown, while in Sydney he’s busy with organising his “Pig Out On Punk” gigs. By all accounts, The Owen Guns are always the band that blows the others off that stage.
This is The Owen Guns’ third full album and clocks in at just 18 minutes with 10 songs. The Ramones sound like a prog rock group in comparison to some of these tracks; “Clean Shirt”, for example, finds the band working with the no-frills, sharp sonic attack of The Descendents.
There is no fat – just slicing guitar and to-the-point lyrical statements. But unlike a few of their hardcore mates floating around the local scene, The Owen Guns are no strangers to the good old Aussie tradition of taking the piss. Their social commentaries, and a broad range of musical influences, makes them stand apart.
“Worst Wishes” opens the album with slow burn guitar that creeps along before we enter hardcore punk heaven, lyrics being rattled off in rapid fire. The guitarwork of the singularly named Mark (yes, I know it’s pure punk not to give out real, full names) is huge, cutting and slicing with barre chording primal edge.
The assault keeps going with “Cleanshirt”, “Instagram (Some C%*# On)” and “Bullshitter”. You can imagine how the mosh pits at the band’s gigs explode.
The record really becomes interesting (and worth buying) on the strength of one song. “Robodebt”. This one is already on radio playlists repeat and nods obviously in the direction of Husker Du at their finest. It’s melodic, well- arranged, hard-edge pop punk with the sort of social commentary that the Dead Kennedys would be proud of.
There’s no need to guess what the song’s about if you know your recent Australian political history and Sean’s disdain of that event is obvious. It also shows these blokes are no mugs as songwriters and there’s a lot more to them then appears on the surface.
“Gene Pool Party “ is a riot and with its good time approach and passing resemblance to The 13th Floor Elevators with an out-of-control envelope filter and wah-wah guitars. The band benefits here, and everywhere else, from the solid, relentless bass-work of a bloke called Booker who throws in some great scatter-gun bass runs when needed. Props also to Mu-To for his rock solid, no-frills 4/4 drumming.
“Had Enough” finishes the album and is a departure to an almost Pogues-like direction. It delivers again in the songwriting department. This one is so hooky and should be on every rock play list on community radio in the country. Sean’s vocal shines through on a song that stays in your head for days with honkin’ horns and the feel of a seafarer sing-along.
Australia does punk best when it clothes it in heaps of humour and weaves in an undertone of social commentary It is a school that goes back to Dave Warner in the 1970s and has continued with Cosmic Psychos, The Chats and even Amyl and The Sniffers. The currency is self-deprecation. Let the Yanks and Poms be all serious and hammer us with obvious political chants.
The Owen Guns have some biting and at times confrontational lyrics in their hardcore approach, and consistently deliver clever songwriting. There’s an acute social conscience behind the apparent clown’s face. This is a great record.
1/4
