A lot of you guys have got me dead wrong. I don’t actually want to write reviews tearing bloody strips from your flesh. I don’t want to kick you in the balls. I don’t want to take your daydreams of fame, glory and love and cruelly crush them. But sometimes a man has got to do what a man has got to do.

I’d like to say that it wasn’t your fault and it was mine. But I’d be lying. It’s all these crap records you keep making. And you know you’re doing it.

You keep including self-written third person press releases announcing your godhood. You present me with expectational cheques your butt can’t make good on. The general idea is, you have to convince someone else to write something nice about you in the third person. If you write about yourself in the third person, you’re asking to be slapped down. So, find someone else to sing your praises. But that’s not going to be me.

Fifteen years ago, talented Victorian songwriter Danny McDonald told me that Little Murders was THE great lost power-pop band of Australia’s halcyon musical underground days of the 1980s. They were defunct at the time and an Off The Hip re-issue of their early material - and another reformation - were away off in the future.

Of course, Danny was right. He’d grown up with the band’s songs and they’d left a permanent mark. Little did he know that in 2015 he’d join Little Murders for their fifth and latest studio album “Hi-Fab!” - or that it might be the best thing they’ve ever recorded.

If you worship at the altar of Big Star, the Beatles and The Byrds you’ll go nuts for this. The dream cited in the title is all about chiming open chords, (gently) duelling Rickenbackers and tuneful choruses that stick.

The Jangle Band bills itself as “Australia's second-best Rainyard/Header/Mars Bastards tribute act” because they’re three of the powerpop bands its members have played in. Throw in The Palisades and Jack and the Beanstalk as well. The membership has form.

Welcome to the crazy world of acid trash/garage punk rock n roll  that’s populated by the wonderful Come ‘n Go.

They’re busting guitar strings and spitting out no bullshit licks, throwing a bit of Swiss chic punk around like there is no tomorrow. In short, this album is very good.

It’s on the Voodoo Rhythm label and production is handled by Markus Staehli (Roy and the Devils.) “Tumbling Heights” is the fourth offering from The Come ‘n Go, who formed in Biel/Bienne in Switzerland in 2001. These punks have had some line-up changes over the years, but seem to have settled on Marina (drums and vocals), Philippe (guitars and drums), Franz (guitar), Rob (bass), Alain (vocals, harmonica and keys) and Markus (noise.) Benu guests on guitar on “What It Is”.

No ballads were written in the making of this album.

If you’ve heard or seen The Stukas, you knew that already. The Stukas are Sydney’s most enduring punk act, luxuriating in the glow of being known as their hometown’s “most hated band”. They play old school, take-no-fucking-prisoners punk rock.

But you probably knew that already, too.

Monkeypig covers a lot of ground in the space of its 10 punk-pop songs. An entirely self-sufficient and self-produced band now based in Newcastle, north of Sydney, it’s the vehicle for front-of-house operator and band-member-around-town, Christian Ryan.

“March of the Jack Boots” was recorded in a home studio in the bushy Sydney suburb of Engadine. No offence to Engadine, but it’s an unlikely well-spring of musical creativity. Ryan recorded, mixed, mastered, sang lead vocals and played almost all the instruments. He wrote every song except one (a co-write). The label is his own. Considering the record’s humble origins, he must have a good ear because the album sounds great.