Album Review: 100 Punk Rock by Salud – A Riotous French Punk Gem
If you’re into raw, unapologetic punk rock that feels like a punch to the gut in the best way possible, 100 Punk Rock by Salud is worth your time. Released in 2018 under MicrOvinyl (a label clearly not messing around), this French album brings the noise with nine tracks of high-energy rebellion and attitude. It’s not perfect—heck, it doesn’t even try to be—but that’s kind of the charm here.
The opening track, “Gotta A Go,” kicks things off with a relentless pace that grabs you by the collar and doesn’t let go. The mix of gritty guitars and shouted vocals reminds me why punk exists in the first place: to shake people out of their comfort zones. But what really sticks? The chorus—it’s simple but infectious, one of those lines you’ll catch yourself yelling when no one’s looking. You don’t need to speak French to feel the urgency; the energy speaks for itself.
Then there’s “Pour Le Meilleur Et Le Pire,” which translates roughly to "For Better or Worse." This one stood out because it slows down just enough to let the lyrics sink in without losing its edge. There's something about the melody that feels both nostalgic and fresh at the same time. Maybe it’s the way the singer delivers the words like they’ve got nothing left to lose—or maybe I’m reading too much into it after three listens. Either way, it’s memorable.
Tracks like “Election à Gogo” bring some social commentary into the mix, while “Facholand” leans more toward pure chaos, making sure you stay on your toes. And hey, who can ignore a song called “Je Sens Mauvais” (“I Smell Bad”)? It’s exactly as ridiculous and fun as it sounds.
What makes 100 Punk Rock work isn’t fancy production or polished harmonies—it’s the sheer authenticity dripping from every note. These guys aren’t trying to reinvent punk; they’re just doing it justice. Sure, some parts are messy, and yeah, a couple of songs blur together if you’re not paying attention, but honestly? That’s part of the appeal.
At the end of the day, this album feels like a love letter to anyone who’s ever felt pissed off, stuck, or just plain restless. Listening to it is like hanging out with old friends who still know how to throw a chaotic house party.
Fun fact: Salud managed to cram all this angst and adrenaline into less than half an hour. Makes you wonder if most bands these days could learn a thing or two about cutting the fluff. Or maybe we just need more albums that make us want to break stuff—and dance while we’re at it.
