- L.A. punk stalwarts The Bronx have spent the best part of fifteen years carving out a pretty serious niche for themselves in the hearts of hard rocking, ambitionless, bearded, white dudes worldwide; and as someone that fills that description to a goddamn tee, The Bronx have ticked all my boxes and tickled me certain shades of pink for a generous part of my 'adult' life.

Just like a good sandwich, The Bronx are both tasty and nutritious yet relatively unlikely to blast your socks off and suck on your toes until you spurt your sad joy from your dingus. Latest hot piece of wax, despite officially being called V, is basically self numbered number five for a group that doesn't waste time coming up with witty album names when there's serious rocking to be done and riffage to conjure up like the West Coast wizards of dad punk that they've rightly become.

It's been four years since The Bronx's last record, and for those that have, perhaps been in a coma, the United States of America hasn't been the most chilled place on Earth. People absolutely all over the shop are pissed off, upset and confused; seems like a decent time for The Bronx to step away from their part-time mariachi shtick and mainline a little of their endearing trademark angst into our deflated heart holes.

For those that have ever had the pleasure of listening to a Bronx record before, V will neither shock nor disappoint. It's eleven pummelling tracks clocking in at just over the half hour mark. It's fast, furious and will undoubtedly result in a slight uptick in worldwide air fisting as the Bronx faithful reemerge from their hidey holes like that cheeky little rodent from Groundhog Day. As much as yours truly was ready to remain steadfast in his own hole and despite the fact that record number five isn't The Bronx's greatest achievement to date, there's just something endearing about these rambunctious hard rockers that make it hard not to recommend V for those that like their rock 'n' roll hard, fast and a little on the safe side.

- Jay Edwards