The 25 Best Punk Albums of 2023
With only a few days left in the calendar year, we’re stoked to turn our full focus onto punk rock. The genre had an incredible year, including astonishing debuts from MSPAINT, GEL and Militarie Gun and career-defining releases from Be Your Own Pet, Jeff Rosenstock and Civic. This week, we published roundups of our favorite indie folk, country and pop albums. Our best hip-hop albums is on the way tomorrow but, without further ado, here are our picks for the 25 best punk albums of 2023, curated by longtime contributor Ben Salmon. —Matt Mitchell, Music Editor
Be Your Own Pet: Mommy
Mommy is a sexy, angry, clear-eyed return to glory helmed by Be Your Own Pet’s own fearless matriarch, Jenima Pearl. “Erotomania” and “Pleasure Seeker,” thrashing punk tracks that sound exactly as horny as they ought to, show the album at its most double-entendre’d—basking in the hedonism of rock ‘n’ roll’s chaotic glory days. Other songs on Mommy veer political: The slicer “Big Trouble” flames with rage at the abortion bans rocking American women’s fundamental freedoms, and “Hand Grenade”’s jagged chorus punches out at the aforementioned boob-oglers—and at Pearl’s own sorrow. Mommy, with its proud femininity and insolent look at the American ethos, channels Pearl’s revelations into an album that is, all at once, a nouveau-riot grrrl imputation of the patriarchy, a Dionysian celebration of female sexuality and an ode to the complex community she’s been embedded in for two decades. —Miranda Wollen [Read our full feature]
Buggin: Concrete Cowboys
If you’re the kind of person who reads year-end think-pieces on the state of punk music, you may have read a few this year on the changing face of hardcore, where a history of gatekeeping is slowly but surely giving way to a more inclusive environment. Front and center in this movement is Buggin, whose vocalist, Bryanna Bennett, is Black, queer, nonbinary and—oh, yeah—one of the most exciting hardcore vocalists to come along in years. Bennett’s shredded howl sounds like it was designed in a lab to front Buggin, and they’re backed by a band of musical sledgehammers capable of churning out blasts of pitch-perfect hardcore in 60-, 90- and 120-second (at most) bursts. When Bennett screams “It’s over, poser bulldozer!” surrounded by an army of blistering riffs, you’ll find yourself right there with them, ready to help kick down whatever doors remain. —Ben Salmon
Cherry Cheeks: CCLPII
2023 was a tremendous year for albums full of catchy, synth-fueled punk, and one of the best of the bunch is this 10-pack of wiry hook-bombs from current Portlander (and former Floridian) Kyle Harms. CCLPII is a study in rock ‘n’ roll efficiency, bringing together restless basslines, razor-blade guitar riffs and warped, wiggly keyboard parts that sound like they’ve been rescued from a sunken circus. And unlike some of his contemporaries, Harms sounds like he’s willing to embrace even a mid-fi production style, which lifts his melodies out of the lo-fi muck and into the sunshine, where they belong. —Ben Salmon
Civic: Taken By Force
Civic’s first album, Future Forecast, landed on the 2021 version of this list, and since then, the muscular rockers of the fertile Melbourne punk scene have made the move to “big indie” ATO Records. With Aussie royalty—Radio Birdman’s Rob Younger—in the producer’s seat, the band successfully navigates that jump by strengthening its songwriting and expanding its sonic palette while at the same time losing exactly none of the proto-punk snarl and anthemic ambition that made its debut such a bracing listen. They are teeming with great punk bands Down Under, and Civic might just be the very best of the bunch. —Ben Salmon
Class: If You’ve Got Nothing
In June of 2022, the Tucson, Arizona band Class released a rock-solid five-song EP on one of the best punk labels going, Feel It Records. Then they followed it up that fall with a full-length album, a six-song EP in February of 2023 and, finally, If You’ve Got Nothing in October. What we have here, folks, is a band that has figured out how to bottle lightning. Like, say, Elvis Costello and the Exploding Hearts before them, Class has the attitude and the ability to synthesize punk, garage rock and power pop in a way that’s totally seamless, effortlessly cool and potentially habit-forming. Clearly, they can’t stop making it, and we’re all better for it. Keep it coming, boys! —Ben Salmon
Drain: Living Proof
It is tempting to compare Drain’s second album, Living Proof, to a boxing match, except that any fight this brutal would never go 10 rounds. The referee would call it, TKO-style, at about the 60-second mark, once opening track “Run Your Luck” ramps up to full intensity. From there, this Santa Cruz, California trio more or less personifies the perfect hardcore band, with guitarist Cody Chavez ripping through one world-class riff after another, Tim Flegal drumming like a damned octopus and vocalist Sammy Ciaramitaro screeching like a wild-eyed madman, whether he’s pissed at the world or trying to inspire you – yes, you and me and all of us – to make a better world. There are a lot of great hardcore bands out there right now; Drain may just be at the very top of the pile. —Ben Salmon
Gee Tee: Goodnight Neanderthal
Simply put: It’s the synths. At a time when it seems like everyone in Australia has a punk band, it’s the synths that set Gee Tee apart from the mob. More precisely it’s Kel Mason’s deployment of those synths—cheap-sounding, but clear in the mix and melodically indispensable—that elevates Gee Tee’s music out of the muck. (Not that there’s anything wrong with muck, to be clear.) After a years-long run of 7″ singles, splits and EPs, Goodnight Neanderthal is Gee Tee’s second full-length studio album, and first on American punk powerhouse Goner Records. Here, Mason’s songwriting is remarkably consistent: All 10 tracks run between 85 and 126 seconds long, and all are packed wall to wall with tattoo-gun guitar riffs, marble-mouthed vocals, breakneck drums and industrial-grade fuzz. And then there are those synths. They add some carnival-esque flair to the grubby post-punk of “Grease Rot Chemical” and turn the Ramones-trapped-in-the-sewer vibe of “40K” into a new wave roller coaster. They thread playground-game melodies through grimy tunes like “Heart-Throb” and “Stuck Down,” and they dance playfully (and so plainly!) on the album’s title track. It’s really quite impressive just how much bang Mason gets for his synth-bucks, and the result is an album that strikes a perfect balance between lo-fi and highly addictive. —Ben Salmon
Gel: Only Constant
The Bandcamp profile of New Jersey hardcore band Gel proudly proclaims: THE FREAKS WILL INHERIT THE EARTH. Indeed, and leading the charge will be Gel, who in 2023 delivered on their promise as a potential pillar of hardcore’s future by delivering a debut full-length that obliterates everything in its path. On Only Constant, the band takes the time-tested hardcore blueprint—simple riffs, heavy grooves, thunderous drums – and reimagines them for a new generation of kids (and bands) who want nothing to do with the genre’s macho past. The perspective shift is welcome: “Hiding from who? The glare of the world? Is it a glare? Or a gaze to behold?” Samantha Kaiser wails near the end of “Fortified,” the album’s second song. “Don’t fucking cower. Stand your ground. Stare right back and be proud.” Hell YES. —Ben Salmon
Home Front: Games of Power
Through two tracks on Home Front’s debut full-length, you are convinced that this is not an album of new works, but instead a long-lost classic from the 1980s, just waiting to be unearthed by a new generation hungry for big beats, stadium-sized synths, overcast vibes and fist-pumping choruses ready for their close-up in John Hughes films. Then along comes the third track, “Nation,” which features all of that stuff plus classic punk shouting courtesy The Chisel’s Cal Graham. What is going on here, exactly? It’s Home Front, a duo from the Canadian punk outpost of Edmonton, Alberta, who have crafted one of the year’s prime examples of the ever-quickening aesthetic diversification of punk rock. It’s a beautiful thing. —Ben Salmon
Hot Mulligan: Why Would I Watch
Even with its maximalist heft, Hot Mulligan’s mood board is so varied that there’s something appealing to all types of emo and pop-punk aficionados. Take “No Shoes in the Coffee Shop (Or Socks),” which shifts from melodic guitar lines to an anthemic, hooky chorus that wouldn’t sound out of place in a Warped Tour amphitheater. “Christ Alive My Toe Dammit Hurts” is playful with its pop-punk propensity, but Nathan Sanville’s visceral screams give it some acerbic zest, especially when you take a look at the self-effacing lyrical content. There’s even the aforementioned mid-album ballad in the form of “Betty.” For the early standout “This Song Is Called It’s Called What It’s Called,” the band channels American Football’s twinkling, tessellated guitar patterns that are a staple of Midwest emo, only to speed it up and crank the volume by the time the first verse ends. —Grant Sharples
Short and sweet, this third EP from Buffalo, N.Y. punk vets John Toohill (Science Man) and Bran Schlia (Helmsley) sounds less like a punk tape and more like an audio documentary of some poor living creature writhing in pain while slowly melting in the sun—and loving it. Five tracks buzz by in less than six minutes, spilling over with bent guitar licks, skewed synths, rhythms set to derail at any moment and plenty of freaky grunts and groans. Like a broken roller coaster inside a funhouse set in some surrealist painting, III is incredibly short, relentlessly weird and wildly entertaining. —Ben Salmon
Jeff Rosenstock’s latest output, HELLMODE, continues this tradition of tackling personal and political neuroses, this time focusing on the ongoing threat of climate change, the unexpected success of being a rising artist and the general disarray of being alive in the current moment. The world is literally on fire, we still haven’t fully recovered from the physical and psychological toll of the COVID-19 pandemic and every day feels like we’re on the brink of societal collapse. So what other way to express the worry around these conflicts than through the feral adrenaline rush of punk rock? And who better to unspool these feelings than Rosenstock? The best parts of the album, particularly in the first half, illustrate the different kinds of dread gnawing at Rosenstock in straightforward yet colorful detail. Opener “WILL U STILL U” finds him contemplating whether or not he can be forgiven for his past mistakes by a former loved one, his voice slightly muffled and almost bashful. As the production ramps up from a steady guitar riff to a rollicking symphony of drums, percussion and vocal harmonies, Rosenstock’s desire for redemption grows even more intense and desperate, culminating with a fiery, angry acceptance of his own circumstances. —Sam Rosenberg [
Like their esteemed fellow Torontoans in Fucked Up, Mil-Spec is a band that brings a serious sense of widescreen grandeur to hardcore. Here, Andrew Peden plays the role of Pink Eyes, barking out lyrics about youthful immortality, nostalgic longing and dead dreams while his band mates build a towering wall of melodic hard rock around him, led by the searing and shimmering work of guitarists Dan Darrah and Matt LaForge. And lest you think you’ve got Mil-Spec pegged, here comes Marathon’s penultimate track, a nearly six-minute collision of ambient tones and a spoken-word story about a road trip and the late punk legend Riley Gale of Power Trip. It’s one of the most interesting, unexpected and oddly affecting moments to show up on a punk record—on any record—in 2023. —Ben Salmon
Raw emotion is at the heart of MSPAINT’s music—so much so that it practically explodes out of them. Their lyrics and album title, Post-American, refer to a post-apocalyptic world that’s succumbed to grave threats currently posed by capitalism, state violence, religion, misinformation and technology. Post-American suggests that it’s imperative to grasp just how horrific things are in order to make change, and to keep the beauty that power brokers rob from people at the front of one’s mind. Deedee’s stream-of-consciousness poetry is rather artful, mixing imagery from the natural world with seething political critiques, allowing listeners to interpret their tracks as both personal emotional awakenings and broader societal ones. But that doesn’t mean their political messages are subtle, as they spout lines like “Guillotine will decide who’s separated in classes” and “Burn all the flags and the symbols of man.” MSPAINT’s rabid synth-punk sounds like the future, as weirdo synths converge with blown-out basslines and emphatic, vein-popping vocals that fall somewhere between hip-hop MC and hardcore frontperson. Their moody melodies, leftfield grooves, barreling energy and rumbling hiss place them somewhere at the intersection of dance-punk, post-punk, egg punk and industrial music, but their lack of guitars really throws a wrench in things. MSPAINT may not win over the hearts of every hardcore diehard, but Post-American is a vehement document of Hattiesburg, Miss., DIY and an invigorating call to prioritize love and justice in a time when virtually every part of society and culture encourages robotic mindlessness. And if nothing else, they’ll continue to turn heads when they unleash their oddball electro-punk dirges at a punk venue near you. —Lizzie Manno [
Militarie Gun are for the restless. On their debut album, Life Under the Gun, the Los Angeles band let a single guitar chord ring out–and then they’re off to the races. There’s a snare drum hitting on every beat, frontman Ian Shelton’s shout-sung vocals and, eventually, chunky power chords within the first 30 seconds of “Do It Faster.” That restlessness is equally clear throughout Shelton’s lyrics: “I don’t care what you do, just do it faster” he sings on one of the most satisfying choruses of the year. It only takes those first 30 seconds of the opening song to know that the five-piece is coming out swinging. In the final seconds of “Life Under the Gun,” where a major-key hook comes crashing into the end of the record like a superb plot twist, it becomes clear that these are some of the most vital rock songs of the year. For a songwriter like Shelton–who thought he was nearly done with music only 3 years ago–Life Under the Gun is an absurdly strong debut, jumping between anchoring drum beats, jangly guitars and explosive choruses with ease. After playing straight hardcore, directing music videos and a plethora of other creative outlets, Shelton sounds firmly at home in Militarie Gun. —Ethan Beck
“Gami Gang” is not just a phrase used among fellow Origami Angel fans; it is a way of life. Given the Washington D.C. duo’s steady, prolific output since their debut album, Somewhere City, in 2019, there’s plenty to digest. The latest release from the emo duo, The Brightest Days, is an eight-song mixtape that barrels forward at a faster pace than a chaotic 200cc race in Mario Kart 8 and feels like a proper crash course for those new to the emo outfit. It packages most of their core signifiers (halftime breakdowns, tender earnestness, melodic yet showy guitar shredding) into a succinct unit. The Star Trek-referencing “Kobayashi Maru” is pure, eager kineticism with its double-time speed, vocalist-guitarist Ryland Heagy’s ebullient delivery and chiptune synths that recall Minneapolis pop-punkers Motion City Soundtrack. As per usual with this duo, there are hooks on hooks on hooks. “Thank You, New Jersey,” a song so indebted to the Garden State that it’d make Bruce Springsteen proud, switches from Heagy’s syllable-laden verses to a surf-rock section, replete with vocal harmonies and a winsome chord progression, reminiscent of pre-Pet Sounds Beach Boys. And like the mixtape’s ethos itself, The Brightest Days is a mere glimpse of where Heagy and Doherty will go next through these eight songs that are over as quickly as they begin. But that’s a vital part of the appeal. What’s fleeting can also be memorable. Impermanence is, ironically, a permanent fixture of life. As Origami Angel put it so well just a couple of years ago, you may as well get caught in the moment. —Grant Sharples
Rock ‘n’ roll bands need to deal with stan culture, with The Algorithm, with our fly-by-night attention spans—our podcasts, playlists, zines, Depop shops and Substacks. They need to make us laugh, feel, mosh and, okay, maybe dance, too, if they have time. They need to change with the times, and they need to do it all for free. Pardoner are one rock ‘n’ roll band that rise to this challenge. Riffing and quipping across society’s uneven terrain, the San Francisco quartet decry everyone from trend-hoppers to NRA jagoffs to themselves, cognizant of where their art lands in the late-capitalist commotion. “Look at all the little artists / Chasing a dream every day / While people sleep outside and starve” goes one sobering barb from their new record Peace Loving People. Self-deprecation is a throughline for this band—“No one needs me / I’m a passing fad,” they sang on 2021’s Came Down Different—and that raises a question about the stakes: Are they high because the guys have to justify their “selfish” pursuit, or low because none of this shit matters anyway? What do the artists owe to themselves, or to others? Max Freeland, Trey Flanigan, River Van Den Berghe and Colin Burris spend their fourth album indirectly circling this idea, musing on their identity as a self-proclaimed “deadbeat band.” —Hayden Merrick
There are albums on this list – Home Front and Stuck, for example – that seem to exist inside a persistent gloom, regardless of what the music’s doing. But none burrow their way as deep into true darkness as Härvest, the latest slab from Philly punks Poison Ruïn. The 11 tracks here feel like a slow descent into a candlelit cave of d-beat punk, class conflict, black metal atmosphere, permanent scowls and breakneck pace. Like The Wipers before them, Poison Ruïn vividly capture a sense of dread and inescapable doom that feels particularly appropriate for the world we’re living (and dying) in these days. —Ben Salmon
Punk is supposed to be a place for the outcasts and the misfits, but what do you do if you feel like an outcast and a misfit at a punk show? You go see Snõõper, that’s what! Fronted by charismatic singer (and visual artist) Blair Tramel, the fast-rising Nashville band plays fast and chaotic popcorn-popper punk songs about bed bugs and fruit flies, and pairs them with a bizarre, larger-than-life puppet show in the live setting. It is every bit as joyously weird and fun as it sounds. Snõõper’s superpower? Its ability to exist at the exact midpoint between being a serious band and not taking itself too seriously. —Ben Salmon
The latest LP from Baton Rouge duo MARANCE and URQ, Infinite Hatch is SPLLIT at their very best. The record is its own cosmos of nebulous rock ‘n’ roll that splits the atoms between power pop, punk and metal. You can’t listen to this album without losing your feet to the divinity of the rhythm. Songs like “Growth Hacking,” “Dorks Tried” and “Bevy Slew” are immaculate, catchy and relentless. The melodies are a can of earworms; the chemistry between MARANCE and URQ, along with added bandmates Raegan Labat and Ryan Welsh, is to die for. This is avant-garde noise rock chilled to the bone, a massacre of sonic preconceptions distilled into an amalgam of risky, singular confidence. —Matt Mitchell
On Freak Frequency, (Stuck) deliver on (their considerable) promise by upping the production and turning their knotty tunes into strapping, sharply cornered bangers. Sometimes, they come out sounding like a more muscular Devo, notably on “Time Out,” a wiry rant against social media and screen time. Other times, they sound like Chicago’s answer to Detroit’s endearing noise-rock kings, Protomartyr. Elsewhere, “Lose Your Cool” finds Stuck at their poppiest, using a catchy stuttering guitar lick to counteract … lyrics about guilt, stress and anxiety, while the title track sets the album’s main theme—America is crumbling and taking us all down with it—to a galloping disco-punk rhythm that will, at least, give us something to dance to as it happens. —Ben Salmon
Throughout Good Living Is Coming For You, Sweeping Promises out-mutilate the corporate mutilators, taking these fragmented scenes and slogans and holding them up to their lo-fi funhouse mirror until they resemble reality again. With each paradoxical hook, picture two gears turning against each other until they smoke and glow red. They carry a resonant anxiety: What if there’s no payoff for the treadmill crawl of the working week? What if the grind just grinds you down? Consider the band’s grooviest track, the rubbery synth jam “Walk in Place”: “Ever get the feeling that there’s something you’re supposed to do?” Lira Mondal sings. “Some kind of cosmic order that you didn’t follow through? / Can’t go against the current, can’t shrug off the restraints…you’re just walking in place.” Mondal and Caufield Schnug are masters of conveying what they call “Generic dread resistant of a label” on “Throw of the Dice”; everything in life that ad copy imitates but never actually captures. That even goes for “Ideal No,” a closing track that doesn’t cohere as well as the album’s highlights. My favorite part comes in the bridge, where Mondal, evoking Pylon’s Vanessa Briscoe Hay, suddenly crows like a bird. It’s one moment of many where Good Living Is Coming For You jolts you to look up from the treadmill. —Taylor Ruckle
It’s clear that Luk Henderiks’ songwriting is often the driving force of Till You Return but the album doesn’t forget to showcase the talents of the other band members. You’re left wishing for more tunes sung by bassist Tricia Marshall: On “Getting Bitter,” the weight of the song is held in the verse, where Marshall’s sweet voice is absorbed in an orchestra of guitars and washed-out drum beats. Whenever the hook appears again, Marshall puts down a jumpy, almost twee bassline, almost snapping you out of the verse’s hard-earned atmosphere. With the bouncy “Say It,” Marshall expresses exhaustion with scene creeps and know-it-all men, singing “Cause I don’t want to spend my Friday night / Looking over my shoulder for your eyes,” harmonized with lead guitarist Eli Frank. On both songs, Henderiks appears for a line or two, acting as a solid Greek chorus to Marshall’s shrewd storytelling. —Ethan Beck
Whatever else The Men have been over the years—and the New York band known for tough, noisy garage rock songs has done several other things besides—they’ve never been half-assed about their music. Led by co-founders Nick Chiericozzi and Mark Perro, The Men have explored country, surf and classic rock styles, along with the punk and noise influences that first launched the band in 2008. Those sounds are back in full force on their latest, New York City, a ferocious album that keeps the needle buried in the red for most of its 37 minutes. These 10 songs, also featuring drummer Rich Samis and bassist Kevin Faulkner, are sweaty and lean, packed with buzzsaw guitars and speedy, bludgeoning rhythms. The aesthetic of New York City evokes the album’s municipal namesake at its grittiest: it’s the sonic equivalent of someone dragging you into a glass-strewn alley on the Lower East Side after dark for a little tune-up. But, you know, in a good way. —Eric R. Danton
What’s in the water in Baltimore, one of the current American hotspots for punk rock? Probably the same stuff that has for years made the Charm City a good place to make out-there sounds in other styles. The five-year-old band Truth Cult certainly takes an omnivorous approach to hardcore, incorporating sparkling pop melodies, ragged rock ‘n’ roll swagger, soaring emo guitars, soulful piano bits and more alongside its heavy chug. The centerpiece of Truth Cult’s sound, however, is the relationship between clean-singing Emily Ferrara and gravel-throated growler Paris Roberts, whose vocal interplay gives Walk The Wheel a unique sweet ‘n’ sour feel. —Ben Salmon-
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