I DESTROY – I Destroy
I invested before the first note. The white vinyl looked too good not to commit, spinning on the turntable at Haphazard Towers, tea going cold, knees already complaining. Punk still works best when you give it your full attention or not at all.
I Destroy are from Bristol, and they carry that city’s DIY, Riot Grrrl, do-it-yourself-or-fuck-off ethic like a weapon. This isn’t punk as cosplay or revivalist nonsense. It’s made in rooms that smell of sweat and cables, by people who don’t wait to be invited. You can hear it in the rough edges, the refusal to sand anything down, the sense that this record exists because it had to.
The album doesn’t warm up. It lunges. Guitars swing like blunt instruments, drums are hard on purpose, and the vocals don’t beg or pose; they snarl. There’s no cleverness here, no ironic distance, just pressure and intent.
As an old punk, the kind who now argues about insoles instead of seven-inch singles, this hits harder than I expected. The anger isn’t youthful fantasy; it’s lived-in and sharp. This is the sound of knowing exactly how the system works and choosing to push back anyway. Less “burn it all down,” more “I’ve watched it burn, and I’m still not done.”
It’s gloriously haphazard. No flash, no showing off, no interest in being liked. Punk with perfect form is just advertising, and I Destroy wants nothing to do with that. It stumbles forward, gets up, swings again. That’s the whole point.
This record won’t change your life. Punk rarely does once you’re older. What it will do is remind you why you stuck around, why you still choose noise, distortion, and refusal over comfort.
Finished it sweaty, annoyed, and energised.
Which means it worked.
From reviews I have read, the live shows are even more sweaty and energetic, can’t wait to catch them soon (preferably in Worcester as this old punk likes to be home by midnight these days.
Check them out HERE
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