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There’s Never Any Leftover Crack

Punk was designed to exude grease. Oily, filthy, sweaty grease at the perimeter of safety-pin piercing-holes and studded denim vests. The turn of the millennium saw crust-punk outfit Leftover Crack making its start with Choking Victim frontman Stza (Scott Sturgeon) bloodletting his disgusting songs to the public. It didn’t take long for Leftover Crack to get picked up and widely released, and more than a decade later the five-piece N.Y. group, which laces ska and grimy squatter-punk noise together without delicacy or poise, is still going strong, starting mosh pits and farting out nasty punk rock.

There’s a wail of rebel revolution at the backdoor of Leftover Crack’s sound, though this is due to a steeping in punk-movement dregs from years passed, and it’s probably a credit of success that the band’s music makes angst-ridden punkers twitch like ... well ... like they just freebased cocaine. Alec Baillie and Ara Babajian, who work the rhythm section, are completely responsible for this — not because there’s anything particularly proprietary about their generic, albeit talented, drum and bass work, but they’re tight and at the end of the day no one’s gonna listen unless you can keep a beat going, even if it does become a catalyst for getting your teeth knocked out and your gums bashed in with a spiked bracelet.

A longstanding riot mentality that got dumped out on the sidewalk with the falling ra-ra-ra of ‘70s punk flies out of the Leftover Crack community like shrapnel in an explosion of throaty, phlegm-fueled lyrics, distorted guitars and the people screaming for change. They’ll probably never get it, just like there’ll never be any leftover crack, but that’s just what keeps the fight alive. Raise a fist, fuckers, Leftover Crack’s bubbling in the pipe, waiting to give our town an overdose of awesome.

Leftover Crack and Skatter Bomb play 8:30 pm Sunday, July 1, at WOW Hall; $10 adv., $12 door.