New Mexican Disaster Squad

Don't Believe

(Jade Tree)

Record Review by Kate Kowsh

Adding steam to the idea that too much heat can inspire madness, New Mexican Disaster Squad, a band out of Orlando, Florida, comes across as agitated, overheated and ready to retaliate.  Their third full-length album, Don’t Believe, houses fourteen tracks that race in one ear and beat the shit out of your insides before plowing their own exit.

Full of the familiar punk rock chord progressions, grinding screams and angsty vocals, this album has a point to get across.  “I’m Infected” is a classic, rapid-fire punk track. But instead of spouting the typical “oi, oi” type of lyrics, it’s got some impressive lyrical muscle.  Armed with a throaty roar, singer Sam Johnson barks, “Oh mind invader, when weakness shows then it will grow.  Will you know?  But we can’t just keep them all.”

“The Killing Machine” is a one finger salute, showcasing the band’s palpable distaste for having to share their home turf with legions of mindless tourists who take and take and take—then leave.  Johnson condemns, “Exporting our assets that we need the most/ Exploiting our poor and tired from coast to coast. We work for the killing machine/ Born into a systematic mass-machine, forever a part of culture breeding fear.”

If you hadn’t already surmised, this is a testosterone-spiking dude record—a real mood aggravator.