I sat on the cold front veranda of a friend’s house. We were drinking wine from a bottle and listening to music from a vinyl – just like real people – when my mind began to drift. I was a tired, numb kind of drunk. Then, in the best tradition of amateur journalism, I decided to review both the vinyl and the event at once.

The Prince of Wales Hotel in Nundah played host to PunkFest a week earlier, Brisbane's underground punters mostly filling the upstairs room with chains and patch vests and the biggest collection of mohawks I've ever seen (three). Whether due to the airport carpet, friendly staff, or low-hanging stucco/nicotine ceilings, it's actually a great space for alternative music. Together, united, the independent punk scene coughed up a 7" loogie for our listening pleasure: pissed, pissed off, and feminist as fuck.

Local stalwarts Ah Fuck That! and Jockrot hit their niche with total commitment to punk's DIY roots, harking back to the glorious '80s in more ways than one. While this unnamed but surprisingly beautiful little picture disc won't appeal to newcomers or the merely punk-curious, for true believers it's a double shot of acerbic hardcore.

Antichrists Anonymous took first support on the night, their charismatic front (Bud Beckett) playing the crowd brilliantly: "How awesome does that fucking split disc look? This is called Death To All Extremists." Next up were Byron Bay's Common Enemy, the tourists unfortunately meeting with general (and generally justified) derision from most quarters – enough said, really.

Ah Fuck That! treat the stage like an old friend. Front Heather Anderson, the walking manifesto, kicked off by trailing a microphone cable to the back of the room: “Oi! Cigarette time is over, lads. It’s time to come in and enjoy the music!” This raw, immediate and very fun engagement is mostly lost on vinyl. The guitarist’s hilarious costume change and the bassist’s weirdly unhinged presence give way to Heather’s pointed lyrics - timeless Australian issues of race, gender, and the evil of banality in our supermarket state.

For very angry, very hardcore Jockrot, the transition to vinyl is a little more straightforward. The grooves on their side of the disc are slathered with a frankly death metal sauce, a mixture of Florida’s late ‘80s scene with DC hardcore. It seems hard punk’s typically razor-thin distinction from metal is thinner than ever here, prompting all the usual (and usually pointless) questions of genus and genesis.

Still, whatever you call it, there’s a lot here for past, present and future fans of the genre to appreciate.

If you weren't there, grab a copy and pretend you were. Buy 'em at a gig or on the bands' Facebook pages.

Photo Credits: PunkFest Brisbane

The Accomplice Semillon Sauvignon Blanc: $9