“Great Punk Rock from Rhode Island. Reeeal RocknRoll!”

WFMU.org (Bill Kelly - The Guru of the Garage, The Panjandrum of Punk)


Maximum RocknRoll Radio (Paul)

Behold the pogoliciously great debut single from Providence, Rhode Island’s punk superstars-to-be, the cool-as-fuck Sleazies! Fans of The Briefs will surely go bonkers for this trio’s snotty, poppy brand of extra-caffeinated punk rock. Sure, these guys have the “look”: the shades, skinny ties, spiky hair, stripes, polka dots, and goofball facial expressions that are all the rage in punk circles these days. But don’t assume they’re just fashion-conscious opportunists hopping on the Neutron Punk bandwagon. Their tunes are HOT! Not since the heyday of Sloppy Seconds has a punk band sounded as appealingly obnoxious as The Sleazies do. The group’s Dickies/Ramones style buzzsaw blitzkrieg bristles with youthful insolence and assaults the senses like bullets out of a machine gun. Singer/guitarist Jami barks like he’s possessed by a young Johnny Rotten, and the manic rhythm section floors the beat with the adrenaline-rush vigor of a warp-speed rollercoaster ride. This is what punk’s all about, man: explosive three-chord rock n’ roll that's catchy as fuck!

The bouncy “Gonna Operate On Myself” is a particularly stimulating blast of trashy, zany punk. How could you NOT love a song as instantly memorable & brilliantly stupid as this one? Believe the hype!

Mark my words: The Sleazies are gonna be HUGE. You might as well buy their debut single ASAP. Otherwise, you’ll be stuck coughing up $20 to score it on eBay a year from now.

Now Wave (Josh Rutledge)

Fun, demented, sniffing glue and popping bubblegum punk rock that’s not too heavy, knows when to stop, and has that nice bounce-along quality of early Adverts and the Briefs. The following sums it up quickly: “When I’m peeing, it affects my aim / Got air pockets in my brain.” Not rocket science, but remember, stuff like this is on a knife’s edge and can easily fall into purely fucking dumb (see the last couple of Queers albums. “My cunt’s a cunt.” Please). As it stands, The Sleazies are merely mildly retarded in all the right ways.

Razorcake #15 (Todd)

Gotta hand it to Rapid Pulse, they sure know how to pick ‘em. Snuck a peek at the lyric sheet before putting this on the turntable and cringed at the silliness of the lyrics. Soon as the needle hit the groove, however, all my fears regarding what I was about to endure dissipated. Both tracks here are sweet sounding punk with more than just a nod toward the band’s ‘70s predecessors, particularly the Gears. Okay, I’m hooked and awaiting my next fix, preferably a full-length.

Razorcake #16 (Jimmy Alvarado)

From Providence, Rhode Island, a low-rent Mecca for fishnetted and safetypinned sleaze punk bands comes, fittingly enough, the Sleazies. These raucous Knox abusers play in Boston all the time, usually sandwiched between similarly snarly punk n’ rollers like the Marvels and the Spitz, which means I haven’t actually heard them until right now, because who the fuck wants to get kicked in the head- accidentally or otherwise- by some overamped 17 year old (expect maybe for another overamped 17 year old)? My loss for bein’ a pussy, I guess, because the Sleazies deliver the goods here, with two blazing snot rockets that are as close as you can get to the Sex Pistols these days without being the kinda clown that’s willing to pay 30 bucks to see a bunch of middle-aged wankers rip you off. The A-side may or may not be an homage to Carl Reiner’s famous goof on a hapless pharmacist, as read in the classic Re/Search book Pranks (if you don’t know what I’m talking about, look it up; you’ll be popping stitches all over the place), but regardless, it’s primo punk rock action with hooks, energy, and no time for a goddamn guitar solo. The b-side is decidedly more rock and fuckin’ roll, and sounds like the Dead Boys and the Dolls all at once. Bonus points for keepin’ it simple- both songs average around 2 minutes a pop, and the titles are repeated over and over for at least 1:30 on both of ‘em.

Imagine that, Sleazegrinder digs the Sleazies. With tasty razor rockers like these on deck, they made it too easy for me.


As someone who recently lost his medical insurance, I feel for these guys. Just last month I thought I had to have my tonsils removed, and I sure as hell can’t afford that, so after a few Beam and Cokes, I entertained the idea of doing it myself. That’s what you get here folks - drunken, halfassed idiocy, and i mean that in the nicest way possible. This band looks like the STITCHES (if the STITCHES sniffed glue), maybe even sounds like a catchier/poppier STITCHES (if the STITCHES sniffed rubber cement too), but I seriously don’t think they are anywhere near as braindead as the SLEAZIES, and again, I mean that in a good way. Two songs, neither really lyrically in-depth (did i mention these guys don’t seem too bright?) but they are infectious and simple enough to stick in your skull all day long.

MRR #243 (BM)