Disciples Of Rock by The Eight Bucks Experiment: A Raw, Unapologetic Blast of Punk and Garage Rock
Alright, let’s get real here. If you’re into music that feels like it was born in a sweaty basement with busted amps and a whole lot of attitude, Disciples Of Rock is gonna hit the spot. This album from The Eight Bucks Experiment doesn’t mess around—it’s raw, gritty, and dripping with that DIY punk spirit we all secretly crave but rarely find these days.
First off, props to the lineup: Paige O’Meara on bass (she slaps those strings like her life depends on it), Al O’Meara pounding the drums like he’s trying to wake up the neighbors, Dan Epstein shredding guitar riffs so sharp they might cut you, and Evan O belting out vocals that are equal parts snarl and soul. Together, this crew makes something special—a sound that’s part punk rebellion, part garage rock chaos, and 100% unfiltered energy.
Now, onto the tracks. There’s “The Door,” which kicks things off with this sneaky little riff that crawls under your skin before exploding into a full-on assault. It’s one of those songs where you can practically feel the sweat dripping off the band as they play. The lyrics? Simple but loaded—kind of like staring at a closed door and wondering if you’ve got what it takes to bust through. By the time the chorus hits, you’re already hooked. You’ll remember this track because it’s not just music; it’s permission to break free.
Then there’s “Marijuana America.” Oh man, how do I even describe this one? Imagine someone took everything wrong with society, threw it in a blender, and served it up with a side of weed jokes and distorted guitars. It’s chaotic, hilarious, and oddly thought-provoking all at once. The way Evan O delivers lines about freedom and hypocrisy is both tongue-in-cheek and dead serious. You won’t forget this song anytime soon—not just because of its name (duh) but because it sticks to your brain like gum on hot pavement.
The rest of the album keeps the momentum going strong. Tracks like “Electric Chapel” bring some melodic grit, while “Train Wreck” lives up to its title with a wild ride of crashing cymbals and screeching guitars. Even “The Wall Of Noise” has this hypnotic quality, like standing too close to an actual wall of speakers—painful yet exhilarating.
What makes Disciples Of Rock stand out isn’t perfection—it’s personality. These guys aren’t trying to polish every edge or smooth over every rough patch. They’re giving you their truth, warts and all, and damn does it feel good. Listening to this record feels less like hearing a band and more like hanging out with friends who just happen to be insanely talented.
Here’s the kicker though: after blasting this album three times in a row, I realized something weird. For all its noise and fury, Disciples Of Rock actually made me calmer. Like, sure, my ears were ringing, but my mind felt clearer. Maybe that’s the magic of rock ‘n’ roll—it shakes loose whatever junk you’ve been carrying around and reminds you what it means to feel alive.
So yeah, check out Disciples Of Rock. Just don’t blame me when your neighbors start complaining.
