DAMNAGE – DAMNAGE (2025)
Sometimes a band comes out of nowhere and smacks you right between the eyes, not with polish or perfection, but with purpose. That’s exactly what DAMNAGE, the self-titled debut from the genre-warping punk trio, does. It doesn’t ask for your attention, it grabs it by the collar, shakes it awake, and then drags you through ten tracks of raw, unrelenting, and emotionally charged music that refuses to play by the rules.
From the very first seconds of opener ‘Wasteland’, the mission is clear: this isn’t background noise. This is music meant to be felt in your chest, your gut, and the back of your throat. The song kicks off like a warning siren, gritty, aggressive, and wired with tension. Guitarist and vocalist Tim Stewart delivers lines with equal parts fire and focus, while the rhythm section, bassist Jonny Drummond and drummer Tosh Peterson, tears through the track like it’s the last one they’ll ever play.
The real beauty of DAMNAGE is in its balance. It’s chaotic, sure, but never careless. Every song is tightly crafted, each performance locked in with the kind of chemistry that only comes from years of playing together. These aren’t three strangers thrown in a room. They’re a brotherhood, forged through touring, stages big and small, and a shared instinct for musical danger.
Take ‘A Million Ways’, a track that spirals through mental confusion and existential noise but somehow lands with its feet firmly planted. The band’s ability to switch gears without losing momentum is on full display here, a tug-of-war between clarity and collapse. ‘Time to Kill’ is a clear standout, a reflection of pandemic-era paralysis, full of punchy drums and jagged riffs that mirror the slow crawl of time in isolation. It feels claustrophobic and immediate, like a pressure cooker about to blow. Tosh Peterson’s drumming here is a masterclass in controlled chaos, propelling the song forward with precision and muscle.
What sets DAMNAGE apart from so many modern punk records is its emotional range. This isn’t just a screamfest, though there’s plenty of volume. There’s nuance here. Tracks like ‘Love and Money’ and ‘Semisocial’ prove the band isn’t afraid to pull back, lean into groove, and let atmosphere do some of the heavy lifting.
Then there’s ‘Cheaptalk’, a direct hit to hollow promises and performative culture. It’s fast, furious, and scathing in its simplicity, a no-nonsense punk assault that lands every punch. In contrast, ‘Time’ feels almost introspective, with a pulse that races beneath lyrics about living loud, fast, and without apology. ‘Important’ deserves special mention – biting, sarcastic, and impossible not to love. It pokes holes in fame’s inflated ego with a grin and a sneer, all set to a tight groove that practically dares you not to move. Stewart’s vocal tone here is especially on point: playful, pissed-off, and totally in control.
The album’s final moments bring a surprising shift. ‘Try’ and ‘Never See It’ turn inward, wrestling with frustration, futility, and emotional disconnection. ‘Try’ is all pent-up energy and desperation, while ‘Never See It closes the record on a haunting, more vulnerable note.
DAMNAGE is a debut that doesn’t play it safe, and thank god for that. It’s urgent, angry, fun, and fearless. It’s a record that makes you want to move, scream, think, and feel, sometimes all at once. If this is just the beginning, the future of punk just got a whole lot more interesting.
