EP Review: The Bare Minimum – Doomed City
Toronto’s
punk scene has always thrived on grit, humour, and a refusal to play by the
rules—and Doomed City, the latest EP from The Bare Minimum,
encapsulates that spirit with precision and passion. Across four short but
explosive tracks, the band delivers ten minutes of pure, unfiltered punk
energy, laced with biting wit and social commentary that feels both urgent and
timeless.
The opener,
“Weirdos in Basements,” sets the tone with a chaotic celebration of the
misfits and DIY dreamers who keep underground music alive. From the first riff,
it’s clear this is a love letter to the scene itself. The guitars snarl with a
raw intensity, the drums pound like a rallying heartbeat, and the lyrics—equal
parts anthem and confession—remind us that punk’s true home isn’t in slick
venues, but in cramped basements filled with noise, sweat, and heart.
“Fare Inspector” takes a sharp political turn, transforming frustration into fury. It’s a scathing and surprisingly funny takedown of transit enforcement and urban inequality, delivered with the velocity of a band who mean every word. The chorus hits hard—half protest chant, half street poetry—and you can practically feel the sparks of rebellion flying off every shouted line. The Bare Minimum’s knack for turning mundane civic frustrations into cathartic art is on full display here.
The title
track, “Doomed City,” slows the tempo just enough to let its bleak
message sink in. Beneath its catchy hooks lies a poignant reflection on
alienation in an overdeveloped, undercaring metropolis. It’s the sound of
exhaustion wrapped in adrenaline—a city anthem for those drowning in concrete
dreams. The melodic undercurrent here adds unexpected depth, revealing a band
unafraid to blend melody with menace.
Finally, “We
Can’t Bring Drums” closes the EP with a wink and a roar. It’s fast,
ridiculous, and endlessly fun—an ode to touring chaos and punk’s unpolished
charm. The Bare Minimum turn logistical headaches into singalong gold, ending
the record on a note that’s both self-aware and gloriously unhinged.
With Doomed City, The Bare Minimum reaffirm themselves as one of Toronto’s most vital punk voices. It’s raw, clever, and alive—proof that real punk doesn’t die; it just finds new basements to thrive in.
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