Review Summary: Legendary album from the ultimate NJ hardcore band. I could say more, but I'd be lying if I thought it was necessary.
For me, growing up in New Jersey meant two things: lousy job opportunities and a chance to experience firsthand some legendary music. To be completely f
ucking honest, Floorpunch are one of those bands that I’d fight someone over. Probably even kill someone. Not because they revitalized youth crew. Not because they were basically the essence of my home state in band form. Hell, not even because their live shows were among the best I’ve ever witnessed. No, it’s just because there isn’t a damned day that goes by when I make music that I don’t think of the incredible influence they’ve had on myself, my friends, and the scene we’ve created for ourselves. It’s not just about the music to me, it’s about the meaning.
But about the music. Floorpunch were one of those straight edge bands who didn’t get all preachy and up their own
ass about their beliefs. What they did do, however, was drive a stake of sheer power straight enter your skull with each riff, crash, and yell that consensually rapes (yes) your ears. It’s these elements that make
Fast Times At the Jersey Shore such a fun ride. Each song is concise, and straight to the point. No beating around the bush, just angry as hell Jersey hardcore. “Washed Up at 18,” the album’s seminal opener, captures all of Floorpunch’s feelings about their own music and the rest of the album to come in the lyrics sheet: “What you had you were given/You were never a part of our scene” - and that’s that basically. What makes
Fast Times so special is Floorpunch’s ability to instantly alienate anyone who may not want to take them seriously. I liken it to the Japanese practice of breeding Kabuki actors to maintain purity on the stage.
Fast Times also features some of the straight up best hardcore musicianship you will ever hear. Period. You only need to hear the breakdown in “Always” or the ripping bass intro of “The Answer” to catch onto that. What’s particularly unique about this album is the sound is high quality, but maintains a demo-esque feel; the music is heavy and pissed off, but oddly funny- upon repeated listens, you’ll start to suspect that Floorpunch are really just flipping everyone the bird while they do whatever the f
uck they want. They take hardcore back to it’s roots while still managing to inflect their own unique take on things. An example of this would be “Let It Ride,” in which Floorpunch merely wanna go gambling in Atlantic City and stare at women, while a choruses of cheers and wolf-whistles backs them up. It’s lead singer’s shout of “One more time,” and a repeat of the verse that makes your musical boner get nice and hard.
What really makes
Fast Times an essential release is its immortal replay ability. Seriously, you could hit shuffle and repeat on this album and listen to it in an infinite variety of combinations and it will never get old. That’s how a good hardcore album should be: a never ending storm of rage and power, but something that you can just connect with. Floorpunch accomplished that here, and whether you like it or not, you probably owe them more than you think because they more than likely changed the course of the lives of the people who formed one of your favorite hardcore bands in at least one way or another. Give credit where it’s due.
