- Jackson Reid Briggs And The Heaters are a band on the make. Every new record is tighter, faster, more brutal than the last. It kind of stands at odds to a title like When Are You Going To Give Up On Me So I Can Give Up On Myself? Maybe that links back to the one thing which really feels like it hasn’t changed: Jackson Reid Briggs himself.

His messy screaming has a bit of Gareth Liddiard, a bit of The Cosmic Psychos’ Ross Knight. If The Heaters are increasingly like a finely tuned muscle car, JRB is the guy with a skinful, standing unsteadily on the roof of the Torana and bellowing at everyone unlucky enough to be in range. It’s actually a pretty productive contrast: the slobbering messiness splattered across the machine-like precision of Ricky, Mick and Michael on guitar, bass and drums. Oh and we shouldn’t forget Lloyd and his occasional sax blasts, adding a cosmopolitan edge that is as welcome as it is bizarrely out of place.

I’ve always had a bit of time for Jackson Reid Briggs, back when the music was a bit slower, more tentative (in fact you can hear that sort of thing in album closer and eight minute epic Altona Beach, which sounds something like a meandering Drones tirade), but, man, the tension they produce in a minute-and-a-half burst! You feel like you’re in Jackson’s headspace...and that’s a place under a tremendous amount of pressure. Reading that back I’m kind of wondering why I think that equates to “entertaining”, but as with all thoroughly aggressive music, your mileage may vary.

As much as it is crushingly heavy and fast post-punk it’s far from mindless aggression. The Heaters are one of the more informed punk bands you’ll come across: from the proto-punk of MC5 and The Stooges, to the punk of The Saints and the post-punk of The Wire and The Fall, you name it: JRB and co. have listened to it and you can hear the influence nestled in there somewhere. Good research makes short, sharp brutal music better.

Back in the day, in Brisbane, Jackson Reid Briggs was a member of a post-rock band called Nikko. Their expansive, complex even affected noodlings - it’s hard to think of something further removed from what’s going on here. Whatever happened to Jackson between laidback Brisbane and the mean streets of Melbourne, it was extreme, and it’s produced one of the more impressive post-punk records I expect to hear this year.

- Chris Cobcroft.