There are many, many reasons to love Youthbitch - their facility with three chord garage punk, their penchant for releasing music only on cassette - but for me, it is how completely they inhabit the snot-nosed punk lifestyle. 

To wit: the band promised to send me a copy of their latest cassette, titled Youthbitch Youthbitch Youthbitch Youthbitch Youthbitch. The tape didn't show up for at least a week and a half later, and when it did, it came with a cracked case and it looked as if someone had already listened to it. As well (and I hope this doesn't get anyone in trouble), someone in the band used the postage machine from their day job to send it. 

With any other band, I might have felt a little peeved about it, but with Youthbitch, I was bemused. I actually said out loud, "Oh, Youthbitch...," which took a lot of explaining to the wife when my four-year-old son repeated it later in the day. 

Really, this careless attitude is a front for how seriously they take writing fuzzy calls to arms and frantic "Fuck you"s to the world that would serve to keep them at bay. Let this two-minute blast hit you in the face and see if you don't come out of it invigorated and ready for battle. A drinking battle, maybe, but a battle all the same!