A Global Threat

I used to live in this punk house. The walls were held up by tape and show fliers; the carpet smelled like beer. It was cramped and there was always one roommate too many, but the rent was cheap. A constant flux of touring bands slept on our floor, which is how I met A Global Threat on its first trek across the States, long before the Boston-based outfit had signed to GMM or BYO. The guys stayed at our house for two days and spent most of their time watching The Simpsons and pornography. But at night, plugged in at the show, they were really alive. They played hyper-conscious political punk anthems — fast, dirty three-chord guitar rock that was defiant and angry. Despite numerous lineup changes over the years, the outfit has remained bonded to its street-punk ethos, impassioned to absurd ends and still posing quite a Threat.