Born in the gutter, raised on broken strings and cheap cider, Ben Zene and the Carcinogens are the musical equivalent of a gullet of gob in your ear. No gimmicks, no nonsense—just raw, boot-stomping punk rock; loud, fast, and out of tune. This ain’t a nostalgia act for aging punks in designer leather; this is snot-nosed, amp-blowing, don’t-give-a-toss rock ‘n’ roll, written for the underpaid, overworked, and permanently pissed-off. Songs about city life, late nights, and the accelerating decay of civilisation, delivered with enough venom to make your nan to kick her radio. If you like The Clash before they got clever, The Damned before they became goths, and The Sex Pistols before they became cunts you’ll love this lot.