On their fiery fourth album,
Come All You Madmen,
the Briggs play tight and they play sharp, expertly mixing sweat-filled aggression and heartfelt melody into 12 potent, fist-pumping tracks of folky, working-class punk. Impassioned handclaps and stomping drums open the record, directing the infectious crew singalong that is "Mad Men." It's a track that seems hard to match, but match it
the Briggs do over and over again. Though the album is basically a logical progression of their
Stiff Little Fingers- and
Clash-inspired past and really nothing their fans don't expect, there's a certain vigor and freshness present that sets
the Briggs apart from most of their punk brethren. Sure, they still fall close to being an L.A. version of the
Dropkick Murphys (minus the Irish revelry), but
Madmen remains exciting instead of just rehashed and uninspired. As always, brothers
Joey and
Jason LaRocca complement each other perfectly on vocals, their expressive and slightly gravelly voices bouncing off one another here and blending expertly there, bringing the band's socially conscious lyrics to life within meaty choruses and alongside buzzing punk rock riffs. The intensity and urgency don't let up throughout, whether in the sober "woah-oh-ohs" of solidarity in "Not Alone" or the raucous shouts of "Until Someone Gets Hurt." There's something very human and accessible about
the Briggs -- and not just in the fact that their sticky hooks own as much polish as grit. Maybe it's that they don't have to hide behind a wall of guitars and drums, spitting and sneering into the mic at every turn as the punk rules dictate. They're just as compelling when they're unafraid to let it all out behind little more than a simple strum and secondary drum roll, as in the stately and affecting "Molly," making them (and this album) truly a joy to listen to.