I have to thank my old Florida homie Justin Cudney for getting this hen's tooth off my wishlist and up in my earholes. So FWA maybe weren't the best hardcore band to come out of the flaccid dick-shaped state that I spent my first 18 years in, but they were an integral part of the scene playing many hectic shows and opening for whatever punk legends were ballsy enough to take the extra travel day down to Miami, only to have their tires slashed, and their merch guy pummeled by subtarded, sun-drenched skinheads. FWA managed to crank out this one EP in the midst of all the heat and chaos. The cover shows a typically South Florida landscape of big ominous skies and rows of buzzing power lines. It may not mean much to you, but to my eyes it is all the loneliness and ennui of my adolescence in one single image. So let's talk about the tunes, shall we? FWA were amateurish, that is for sure, but in that simplistic, rickety untalent was a charm that may even remind you of your own teen angst. Hardcore with little outside influence, no experimentation, no metal, no emo. Mohawks and skateboards, flannels and boots. Thank you so much, Justin and FWA wherever you may be.