cant polish a turdYou Can’t Polish A Turd - The Monaros  (Tradie Records)

Yob Rock, you say? One man’s low brow culture is another’s tongue-in-cheek, high-energy punk rock and Victorian yokels The Monaros are a rough-as-guts adornment to this rich, Australian tradition.

You can trace the origins of yobism back to the likes of Billy Thorpe without trying too hard. Suck more piss, and all that. Maybe Yabba, the 1930s cricket spectator who’s immortalised in bronze at the Sydney Cricket Ground? The start sure pre-dates Cosmic Psychos, who are riding a fresh wave of popularity. Arguing the toss is pointless when it’s a race to the bottom.

And The Monaros might have found it with “Karen”, their own ode to meddling kill-joys which is almost four minutes of base abuse. Nice wah-wah, though. You can say what you want about the lyrics (puerile is just a state of mind) but there’s no mistaking the fact that these boys can really play.

Therein lies a lot of the attraction in songs like “Bottleshop”, “Beer Is The Answer” (“answer” rhymes with “penis enhancer”) and the bragging “All Day, All Night” (“we’ll drink all night and fuck all day” – yeah, right.) The words are meant to provoke a reaction but, damn, Ned’s guitar solo leaves a mark like baby-shit on a bedsheet, and you couldn’t fit a Tally-ho between bassist Gav and drummer Tim’s playing.  

The songs are relatively simple but too many chords would make it jazz, right? The slack-jawed “Speedway” could have slotted into a Motorhead set with double kick. File next to the Psychos, The Onyas, The Meat Beaters and the VeeBees.

“The Monaros are a three-piece yobbo punk rock band who love taking the piss! Every song is an anthem”. It is what is says on the tin. If “Mum Washed Me Cum Sock” doesn’t bring a smile to your dial, you’re a fucking “Karen”. - The Barman


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Those gentlemen from Warrnambool in rural Victoria are up to no good again, releasing the follow-up album to last year’s classic “Bogan Road”. How to top something that’s perfect?

That’s been the downfall of many a good band:  “Oh I liked your last album better”… “Your next album sucks shit.” Well, The Monaros have done just that. They knew their record sucked shit, but they’ve put some polish on it and they're letting let the shit splatter for your listening pleasure. Earplugs and goggles are not included.

“You Can’t Polish a Turd” a magical, mythical time trip into what Australian life is for followers of the dole bludging, pot smoking, VB drinking lifestyle. Which encapsulates what life in a country town is. It has fuck all to do with those posh, rich city folks. So if you are one of those, please leave now. This review ain’t  for you. Fuck off!

Robbing bottle shops, girlfriends who carry your dog poop bag around (for fitness reasons). Cops with nipple piercings and songs about tradies’ footy trips. Not to mention one about Karens. Karens? We all know a Karen - that lady who always thinks she’s more important than the rest of us and that the world is hers to fucking rule. If you’re a Karen, this is the album is for you.  

So much humour – and so much truth – is in these tunes. Ned’s vocals just scream as he rips into his guitar-work. Jack just pounds away on those drums, smashing his way beyond brilliance. Oh, and Gavin on bass. Well, Gav just keeps those other fuckers in line throughout this album. I think he’s the only one that gives a shit (pun intended). 

(No last names mentioned because out of town coppers and Karens might take a disliking to these musical criminals.) 

Okay, after making myself laugh at all I’ve written in this shittttttt review, can I just say this album is so bloody good: think Cosmic Psychos at their best. Think Powder Monkeys ripping it up, guitar-wise. The lyrics recall those of  Blood Sucking Freaks. Maybe, maybe not. How about a touch of Fred Negro’s humour? 

Fuck, what else can I say about “You Can’t Polish A Turd”? Listen for yourself and odds are you will be headbanging, singing along and laughing yourself silly. 

For my government money, “Best Cop In Town”, “Karen”, “Bottle Shop” and the unforgettable “MUM WASHED ME COME SOCK” need  to be played loudly and proudly - and fuck what the neighbours think. - Ron Brown

fiveone Six VB Beers and a Whiskey please Barman!

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