Thank you for figuring out that fast music belongs on short records. Thirty-three rpm 7-inches are perfect for punk, but here’s evidence in defence of the 45 rpm 12-inch.
Since 2009, School Jerks have screamed at/from Toronto on three 7-inches. They’re in the snotty crease where hardcore is still influenced by older siblings’ punk T-shirts, not just inbred friends. There’s some feedback and mumbling and scratchy chords, but no substantial damage and not a lot of ambition. Don’t expect many weird adjectives or prefixes in their future.
There’s nothing forward-looking on the new record. Have three years even gone by? It’s a 15-minute concrete headache. It’s flawless and functional, and not even that interesting by most standards. The record works well inside its genre ghetto, but also on a local level no matter where you live. It’s your city and your frustration and the infinite reserves of entitled jerks circling above.
School Jerks, with cover artist Tara Bursey as Raymond Pettibon, put out timeless artifacts, not trying to be modern or trendy. Whatever vision holds it together is occupied with making sure the attitude sticks in brain stems and stiff shoulders. You don’t own a yacht, work sucks, this is how it feels to be alive.