Small Arms Dealer firmly believes that punk rock played with a raging fire in the belly is the very best kind of punk rock...easily digestible in large, combustible doses but guaranteed to leave you with that permanent, ever-so-worth-it feeling. And there's no indication that any member of this Long Island quintet is holding back one iota, writing songs that sound just as urgent and ferocious on their hundredth spin as they did on their first. Their sophomore full-length, Patron Saint of Disappointment, delivers sweat-drenched, clobbered in the face, punched in the gut, smacked in the ears, pissed off punk rock from a battle-wary crew including Jason Lubrano...who is in top cynical form, spitting lyrical venom in the collective faces of religion, politics, corporate America and even himself. Never before has a vocalist churned out such beautiful poetic poison...all with a mischievous smirk and a wink of the eye. The band echoes his war cries with gruff, throaty sing-along chants, guitars exploding with TNT force and a rhythm section pounding out just the right amount of octane. If there's any band that's going to be left standing after the apocalypse, it's gonna be Small Arms Dealer. There's more than enough guns-a-blazin' firepower, unforgettable melodies and devil-may-care attitude to handle four little ol' horsemen. This is one certifiably kick-ass record.
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