Angry Samoans
Back From Samoa

THE REVIEW

With great pleasure, I was listening online to stuff like Germs, Circle Jerks, Minor Threat, and these Angry Samoans that I've never heard before appear, and before rationalizing the vision of the cover, my soul had already decided that this is the greatest cover of all time.

The entire artwork is just too much, the situation, the colors, those military planes, the absent bleached expression of the severed head, the indecipherable grimace of the "creature from the blue lagoon." I'm definitely making a T-shirt out of it, and I invite you all to do the same, maybe putting your face in place of the unfortunate decapitated one.

With a cover like this, I was sure the music couldn't be any less. It's an entire unknown concept disguised as punk stupidity, and you can feel California in the less than twenty minutes of the album, where the exaltation of the immediate, which only the punk from the Golden State can convey, stretches the listening duration.

And we don't let out a loud laugh nor a quiet wink but a big liberating smile because that's how much of an engaging presence the guys have: shorts, beer, and a hotdog in hand, a party at noon in your parent's backyard, shooting the breeze with your friends in their twenties, just like the album makes us all feel: in our twenties...

Back To Samoa invigorates the jaw of the piranha within us in using our teeth not for tearing bites but for a gruesome carefree smile.

Vincent and Jules: “Do you remember… Tony Rocky Horror? Yeah, I think so, the fat guy. I wouldn't call him fat, he's got weight problems, poor guy, what can he do, he's SAMOAN…”