I'm going to surprise you and tell you this isn't a great single. Well, not in the traditional sense. It's not what anyone calls a hit record. It barely finds a chorus. But is it fucking great? Oh yeah.

This is all kinds of thundering great hyper rock and roll madness. It's the sort of track that makes you want to jump into your Panzer Tank and overrun the nearest neighbouring country whilst swigging Wild Turkey and taking no prisoners. Guitars slash, scream and gurgle in electric squall. Bass pounds earthquakes. Drums thump the beat of zombie apocalypse (but the fast kind of modern zombie and not the shambling old school type). Tick off all the appropriate cliche rock and roll review boxes. Throw in words like blistering. Mention Detroit. It's not important. Just get the message out. This thing rocks like the proverbial motherfucker (even though I'm not sure how that visual is appropriate).

This Newport, Kentucky, band lived its first life deep in the American Midwest from 1983-87 and has reformed sporadically since. One of the “Killed By Death” outfits - so-called because a series of bootlegs using that title gave them and scores of others fleeting fame outside their own backyards - they’ve issued this three-tracker CD single as a precursor to a retrospective album.

On the strength of “Resuscitation” they could just as easily make it all-new material. This stuff burns like a clear-headed version of the Heartbreakers, although without the same swing. The licks make it obvious where guitarist Donny “Tex” Watson is coming from, even if his feet are planted on the ground, rather than skidding all over the stage like the late Johnny Genzales.

It’s almost a given that old rockers will put their amps aside from time to time, put on cowboy hats and play mildly ironic acoustic music full of songs about killing people and losing their girls. France’s Flu Flu Birds fit the bill on all fronts.

“Play Your Favourite Stupid Songs” is four tracks of hayseed cowpunk from members of The Stoneage Romeos and Ganbangers. Those names might not mean much to you but I can tell you that The Stoneage Romeos especially rock like motherfuckers. So you'd expect this diversion down a country backroad to be good.

They’re from Bavaria in Germany and their name is French for “Very Goods” so is it any wonder most of the rest of the world thinks Europe is a confusing place? There’s nothing muddle-headed about the brand of rock and roll this four-piece pub rock band pumps out on this four-track vinyl EP, however.

Two guitars and edgy, strangled vocals sit pretty well around these parts and The Tres Biens have cornered their own part of the market. The sound borrows from English bands like Graham Parker and The Rumour (especially on the opener “Factory Boy/Factory Girl”) and the pacing is relentless.

Putting parochialism to one side, Australian ‘60s punk is vastly underrated with all but those who dig deep, so this gem from Canadian label merits more than your passing attention. Originally issued in 1966 with a different (tamer) B side, it’s one of those catchy freakbeat classics that stands tall in any company.

The In-Sect were a show band who did what any of their ilk with an ounce of self respect did and mutated into a garage-beat outfit with no pretensions. Contemporaries of the Masters Apprentices, they had a handful of singles before fading away with members going on to Jeff St John, The Twilights and Ram Jam Big Band.

Don't feel sorry for the fact that, at the time of writing, only five people “liked” Fringe Dwellers on Facebook. It’s just that the music of this veteran Sydney trio is much better than their online self-promotion.

They’ve only been around a few months and this three-track CD single is Phringe Dwellers’ first foray into “product”, but it indicates that there could be enough in the kit bag to stretch to a worthwhile album. The songs hark back, relentlessly, to inner-Sydney circa the late ‘80s and early ‘90s, and that’s where the band’s spiritual roots lie.

Guitarist-vocalist John South and bassist Carl Edman were members of formidable blues-rockers The Hunchbacks back then, while drummer (and past I-94 Bar scribe) Simon Li is an expatriate Melbourneite who was brought up on a diet of the Powder Monkeys. While the music never reaches those intensity levels, it does hit hit its own mark.