The Briefs

It’s difficult to reconcile why the Adicts draw slews of Generation XYY kids while all-ages sections at the Briefs’ shows are occupied by three claustrophobic straight-edgers. The fruit doesn’t fall far from the loom, after all. But it takes the younger Briefs to get geriatric punks back into the pit for ass-shaking and hip-breaking. Besides touring relentlessly, they’ve recorded four stellar albums in five years — nearly a career in punk terms. More frenetic than this release schedule are performances fraught with crispity, crunchety middle-fingery new-wave-punk too snotty to be angry. Like the Vandals, these musicians happily squander their talent on irreverent goofball material. Their tight jeans, plastic sunglasses and bleached hair befit such retro-fitted tunes as “My Girlfriend Wants to Be a Zombie” and “Ouch Ouch Ouch.” Clever enough to be stupid, the Briefs are funnier than the Dickies, cooler than a pack of Captain Sensibles and smart enough not to be called “The Tight Whities.”