The Business End

San Francisco's The Business End is tight. Not just like, "Whoa, dude! That was tight!" (although they get that a lot.) No, more like. precise. Their songs demand it; this ain't no sloppy punk-rock. This is punk rock to bounce a quarter off of. Sure, on stage they may slur their words a bit. Maybe play a bit quicker than the CD would lead you to believe. And they get pretty sweaty blasting through their serious and silly anthems. But it's impossible not to. When you take a moment to listen to these tunes, your heart rate doubles. Your vision blurs. Are those tears of laughter glistening in the corners of your eyes? Of longing? Of righteous passion? More likely it's just the wind, howling from the speakers with awesome fury. Because The Business End does it right. Whoa, dude. that was tight.
Their debut full length album, Nice Marmot (self released in late September), is described as "a blistering romp through the perils of alcoholism, religion, the end of snowboarding season and yes, even venereal disease. You'll laugh, you'll cry and you'll want to hug them when it's over."
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