Rebellious, oldman pop-punk, this album reminds me of myself in fifteen years if I join the local punk club, burn my membership card, and then get all fucking punky. Ive purchased a ripped black XX shirt to keep in the closet, just in case.
Chanty punk, reminiscent of that anarchist group a few years back who broke mainstream with that song about getting knocked down, drinking and pissing, the Class of Assassins lack any lethal weapons. Modernfix may never print my reviews again, but I just can’t tolerate this fist pumping, ambiguously rebellious punk. There is no crisis, no urgency. I dont have the will to try and deconstruct State of Emergency a few quaint guitar licks here and there but other than that, purely mediocre.