Demonstration by Lenin Lennon: A Punk-Infused Aussie Rawk Riot That Kicks Ass
Alright, let’s get this straight—Demonstration isn’t your polished, radio-friendly crap. This is raw, unfiltered rock ‘n’ roll with a punk edge sharper than a boxcutter (yeah, like the song). Released in 2011 by Lenin Lennon—a self-released banger outta Australia—this album doesn’t try to impress you with fancy production or overblown solos. Nope. It punches you in the face and demands attention. And honestly? I’m here for it.
First off, credit where it’s due: the artwork by Robert Nedeljkovic looks like something you’d find spray-painted on a skate ramp at 3 AM. James Blayden mixed the hell out of these tracks, but don’t expect crystal-clear perfection—it’s gritty as fuck, just how punk should be. Lenin Lennon himself recorded the damn thing, which gives it that DIY authenticity that makes indie rock so goddamn addictive.
Now, onto the goods. The track “Rad Garrett” slaps harder than most bands can dream of. It’s fast, chaotic, and feels like it was written during a caffeine-fueled all-nighter. You know those songs that grab you by the throat and won’t let go? This is one of ‘em. Every time I hear the opening riff, I feel like smashing something—not because I’m angry, but because it’s that good. There’s no bullshit here, no endless buildup. Just pure, unrelenting energy from start to finish.
Then there’s “Boxcutter,” and holy shit, does this one rip. If you’ve ever wanted a soundtrack for when life fucks you over, this is it. The guitar work is jagged and pissed-off, while the vocals scream desperation like they’re being chased by demons. By the second chorus, you’ll wanna throw your fists in the air and scream along—even if you don’t know the words. It’s messy, loud, and absolutely unforgettable. Like spilled beer on a sticky club floor, it’s gross but kinda beautiful.
The third standout, “White,” brings a slightly different vibe. It slows things down just enough to remind you that even punks have feelings. But don’t worry, it still hits hard. The lyrics are cryptic as hell, leaving you guessing what Lenin Lennon was actually thinking about when he wrote it. Is it about loss? Love? Anger? Who cares—it works. Sometimes music doesn’t need to make sense; it just needs to hit you in the chest like a brick.
So yeah, Demonstration ain’t perfect. Some might call it amateurish, but screw them. This album has soul, grit, and more attitude than half the bands out there combined. In a world full of cookie-cutter pop-rock garbage, Lenin Lennon reminds us why we fell in love with rock music in the first place.
Final thought: Listening to this album feels like getting into a bar fight and walking away with a black eye—but somehow feeling better for it. Fucked up, right? Exactly.
