The BarrBarians are a fresh new band out of Asbury Park – perhaps you’ve heard of it. And yes, BarrBarians is spelled with an extra R for extra ROCK, and no I will not apologize for that horrible joke. You’re here, you knew what you were getting yourself into. Their debut eponymous album was released back in March of this year. Of course, N.J. Racket is late to the party, but it’s still better than high school when we wouldn’t have been invited at all.
This album kicks like it’s from a time back before O.J. ran from the police, then was acquitted, then was convicted, and then was released on parole. It’s head-banging, Doc-stomping garage rock that will make you want to put on your favorite flannel, hang out outside the Quick Stop, and do a jay (except don’t, because drugs are bad).
The BarrBarians have actually accomplished something with this album that I genuinely believed nobody ever could – make me enjoy meatloaf. Except in this case, “Meatloaf” is the riff-driven, chaotic and riotous third track and not a dry, bland brick made up of all the worst parts of a cow, or an old, fat, sweaty pop star who gets your parents to sing about sex euphemisms at parties. Keep it in your pants, Mom. This “Meatloaf” is anthemic to the stoner punk credo and is guaranteed to get a crowd of young punks thrashing around in a circle screaming, “TELL ME WHAT THE MEATLOAF SAID!” Why? What does that mean? It doesn’t fucking matter. It’s punk rock, you poser.
“Sunday Driver” is a track that really shows off The BarrBarians’ range. While most other songs are raucous, this one kicks off with a jangling riff that is smooth and funky fresh. This eventually gives way to a lyrical solo following the second verse that juxtaposes the more aggressive stylings of the rest of the album in such a way that highlights the band’s skill and composition.
The BarrBarians is available on Bandcamp for your listening pleasure. Check it out, give it a spin, and remember (or learn, for you avocado-toast-loving-millennials) why the ‘90s was the greatest decade since the 1880s (invention of the telephone and lightbulb – see, now you learned something).
Adam gave man-birth to N.J. Racket and is as close to an "editor-in-chief" the site has. He's a god awful photographer.