AT HOME WITH YOU

X's At Home With You? Nah, man. This ain't some polished corporate garbage. This is raw. This is ugly. This is Sydney punk at its dirtiest, and yeah-somehow it slaps harder than 90% of the "classic" albums people jerk off to. First off, the bass. Ian Rilen? Dude sounds like he's trying to tear a hole through the floor. It's not clean, it's not fancy-it's angry. Like he's pissed off at the world and the amp is his therapist. And Cathy Green on drums? She's not just keeping time. She's beating the shit out of those skins like she owes them money. No finesse. Just power. Just noise. Just right. Steve Lucas on guitar and vocals-man's voice is like sandpaper dipped in gasoline. Songs like "Degenerate Boy" and "Don't Cry No Tears" don't so much start as they explode. No buildup. No warning. Just BAM-you're in the pit, someone's spitting on you, and you're loving it. "Hate City"? That riff? Simple. Brutal. Perfect. You don't need solos when you got riffs that hit like a boot to the ribs. But look-some tracks drag. "TV Glue" is cool, but the second half of the album feels a bit samey. Same tempo, same snarl, same wall of noise. It's like they forgot variety exists. And don't get me started on the label crediting "You Really Don't Care" as "Say That You Love Me." What the actual fuck? Did someone drop acid while printing the sleeve? That's not a typo. That's a war crime. Bonus tracks? Meh. The live ones are rough. Not in a cool way-just rough. Like, "we recorded this on a cassette taped to a mic stand" rough. Adds charm? Maybe. But it's not essential. The core album's the beast here. Remaster sounds good though. Clearer than the original, but still dirty. Gil Matthews didn't scrub the grime off-just gave it a shower and a haircut. Respect. And the horns? Yeah, they're there. Trumpet, trombone, French horn-on a punk record? Sounds dumb on paper. But it works. Adds this weird, sleazy carnival vibe. Like the band's playing in a burning circus. Fuckin' love it. Still... after all these years, this album doesn't feel old. It doesn't feel nostalgic. It feels current. Feels dangerous. You play this at a party and someone's gonna throw a punch. Guaranteed. Funny thing? I used to hate this record. Thought it was too loud, too messy, too much. Then I saw a video of them live. Just chaos. No choreography. No banter. Just pure hate-fueled noise. And I got it. This ain't music for listening. It's music for surviving. So yeah. At Home With You? It's not perfect. It's not even good in the traditional sense. But it's real. And in a world full of fake rebels and TikTok punk posers, that's worth more than a perfect score.