These ain't your grandpa's records, friend. These are battle cries etched onto wax, singalongs for scrappers and dreamers, anthems for the beer-soaked nights and sun-bleached days of a life lived loud and real. The Menzingers, they're the soundtrack to busted knuckles and busted hearts, the band that throws gasoline on a bonfire of working-class poetry and lets it roar.