Split 7 by Stalwart Sons & Union Of The Snake: A Punk Rock Gem You Didn’t Know You Needed
Alright, let’s cut to the chase. If you’re into raw, unfiltered punk rock with just enough grit to make your speakers feel alive, Split 7 is worth a spin. Released in 2011 under Revolution Winter and Noyes Records (shoutout to Canada for keeping it real), this album feels like that scrappy underdog at a skate park who somehow pulls off tricks better than anyone else. It's not perfect—it doesn’t want to be—but damn if it doesn’t stick with you.
First up, we’ve got “Born To Thirst.” This track hits hard right outta the gate, like someone smacked you upside the head with a cold beer can—refreshing but kinda disorienting. The vocals are raspy yet urgent, like they're trying to tell you something important before last call. What makes this one memorable? Maybe it’s how the guitar riffs punch through without overthinking anything. Or maybe it’s because halfway through, there’s this little breakdown that feels like tripping over your own feet—but in a good way. Like, "Oh crap, I meant to do that!"
Then there’s “Flitcraft,” which honestly sounds like what would happen if chaos theory decided to start a band. There’s no time to catch your breath here; the drums hammer away like they’ve got something to prove, while the lyrics bounce between cryptic and straight-up weird. But weird works! By the end, you’re left wondering what the hell Flitcraft even means—and isn’t that kinda punk as hell? Not everything has to make sense to hit home.
The other tracks, “Garden Of Paths” and “Decades,” hold their own too, though they don’t grab me quite as hard. They’re solid, don’t get me wrong, but when you’ve already been walloped by “Born To Thirst” and confused into submission by “Flitcraft,” these ones feel more like cool-down moments rather than showstoppers.
Here’s the thing about Split 7: it’s not gonna change your life or anything. But sometimes, music doesn’t need to be life-changing to matter. Sometimes, it just needs to remind you that being loud, messy, and unpredictable is okay—even kinda beautiful. And hey, props to Stalwart Sons and Union Of The Snake for proving that punk ain’t dead—it’s just hiding out in places you wouldn’t expect, waiting for you to stumble across it.
Final thought? Listening to this album feels like finding an old mixtape in the backseat of a junker car. You might not know where it came from, but once you press play, you can’t help but crank the volume. Oh, and also…why does punk always sound better when it’s Canadian? Discuss amongst yourselves.
