Anyone who’s seen Drain live has felt it. The electricity coming off of the stage. The communal energy of the fans singing upfront. The primal thrills of fists flying in the moshpit. The uninhibited joy emanating from every banging head, screaming lung, and airborne foot in that room. There’s nothing like a Drain show. There’s no other hardcore band like Drain. The Santa Cruz band is an institution in their genre and an affable neighbor to their adjacent ones. Punks love Drain. Metalheads love Drain. Haters can’t help but love Drain. Drain is for everyone. Well, venue security guards might not love Drain. But to everyone else: Drain…Is Your Friend. Drain -- frontman Sammy Ciaramitaro, guitarist Cody Chavez, and drummer Tim Flegal -- formed back in 2014 and cut their teeth in Santa Cruz’s fertile DIY hardcore scene. COVID lockdown couldn’t stop their 2020 debut, California Cursed, from making waves, and their 2023 follow-up, Living Proof, hit the hardcore scene like a Cali beach during hurricane season -- a torrential classic. Since then, Drain have blazed through hundreds of shows worldwide: headlining festivals, taking their friends and heroes on tour, and even playing arenas with Blink-182. Regardless of whether they're opening for pop-punk jukeboxes like Neck Deep or grabbing the stage-dive torch from Terror, Drain’s only goal is to make the crowd go buckwild.
“Speaking for myself, this record might be a snapshot of me deciding whether I’m going to live out the rest of my life as Eckhart Tolle or live out the rest of my life as Ted Kaczynski,” laughs PROPAGANDHI guitarist and vocalist Chris Hannah. In true PROPAGANDHI fashion, the Manitoba, Canada based outfit’s eighth album, At Peace is smart music for dangerous times. “Everything I’m singing about is still coming from being the same person that wrote and sang our first record How to Clean Everything in 1993,” Hannah states recalling the band’s snarky skate-thrash origins. “But what we’re putting into the songs now, probably reflects more despair than 30 years ago when we had similar perspectives, but with strands of hope and naivete. Now it’s the existential dread of eking out a life worth living in this completely failed society.” At Peace was written and recorded as political storm clouds were beginning to darken in the months before Emperor Trump’s ascent to power. It’s an album of poetic and polemic songs written shortly before the American oligarch’s suggestion that PROPAGANDHI’s home country become the U.S.’s 51st State. Songs like the album’s apocryphal “Fire Season” presages the climate-change-driven wildfires that wiped out portions of Southern California. At its core, At Peace is an album of inconvenient and unavoidable truths that hit with all the subtlety of an Orwellian boot stamping on a human face forever.