Album Review: The Damn Personals The Kickovers – A Punk Rock Gem That Kicks Ass
Alright, buckle up, because we’re diving into The Damn Personals The Kickovers, the 2002 punk rock firecracker from Boston’s own Fenway Recordings. This isn’t your polished, overproduced nonsense—it’s raw, unfiltered, and straight-up fun. If you’re looking for an album that feels like a sweaty basement show with your best buds, this is it.
Let’s start with “Mascara Queen,” because holy crap, does this track slap. From the opening chords, it hooks you like a bad habit you don’t wanna quit. It’s got that perfect mix of sneering vocals and punchy guitar riffs that scream teenage rebellion, even if you’re well past your teen years (no judgment here). What makes it stick? The lyrics hit hard—equal parts snarky and relatable. You can practically picture the mascara-smudged protagonist flipping everyone off while strutting down the street. It’s catchy as hell and leaves you humming it for days. Like, I dare you to listen once and not air-guitar in your kitchen.
Then there’s “Better Living…”—a track that’s more introspective but still packs a punch. It’s the kind of song that sneaks up on you; at first, it seems chill, but then BAM, the chorus hits, and suddenly you’re shouting along like it’s your new life mantra. The energy shifts just enough to keep things interesting without losing that signature punk edge. Plus, the title alone is a middle finger to all those self-help gurus out there peddling fake optimism. Love it.
Now, let’s talk about why this album works so damn well. First off, it doesn’t take itself too seriously. Punk rock thrives on attitude, and The Damn Personals nail it. Second, these guys know how to write songs that feel personal yet universal. Whether you’re pissed off at the world or just need something loud to drown out your thoughts, this album delivers.
Released back in 2002, The Damn Personals The Kickovers might not have set the charts on fire, but it’s the kind of record that builds cult followings. And honestly, isn’t that better than some fleeting Top 40 hit?
Final thought: Listening to this album feels like finding a crumpled-up flyer for a house show in your jacket pocket months later. It reminds you of good times, bad decisions, and everything in between. So grab your headphones, crank the volume, and let this one remind you what real rock ‘n’ roll sounds like. Or, y’know, just blast it in your car when you’re stuck in traffic. Either way, it’s a win.
Oh, and P.S.—if anyone tells you punk is dead, shove this album in their face. Mic drop.
