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***There’s two things you could infer from a band who calls themselves the “Beatniks”: that they either do a shitload of drugs, or just get high off of their own simplistic, contrastingly-impactful proto-punk sounds—even as a mere listener, exposing yourself to this marled sprawl of regurgitated rock and roll riffage can quickly prove to be intoxicating, if not lethal. With metallic whirls, squeals, and screeches complimenting the generally downbeat garage anthems, the temper the Beatniks’ exhibit in this four-track record is shorter than the end of the stick they were given at birth; their musicality is palpably snide and ridden with angst, contributing to the shades of contempt and catharsis their rudimentary sounds will surely fill you with. “KBD” is a descriptor that often gets thrown around when translating a band’s sounds into words, implying that they seem as if they were appropriated from another era: Oakland’s BEATNIKS—featuring members of esteemed acts such as THE WORLD, ANDY HUMAND & THE REPTOIDS, LIFE STINKS and VIOLEN CHANGE—may as well be the epitome of that.