The Don’t Fucking Cares: Negative For Fun

London 2012 via Detroit 1972.

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The Don’t Fucking Cares are the kind of band that come along every now and then to strip all the superfluous gilding from the face of rock’n’roll, leaving it in its purest, most feral state.

The Stooges are kings and The Runaways are queens, and there’s no time for anything more than raw power, curled lips and explosive cherry bomb hooks. With frontwoman Marta Larrson verbally kicking the rest of the band gleefully down the street while channelling her inner Joan Jett, it’s all pure, uncomplicated thrills.

Negative For Fun is unlikely to make much of an impact outside of the scuzzy world of dive bars and car park brawls that it joyfully inhabits, but one look at their name will show you how much that will bother the band, so long as they’re making a gloriously unpolished racket.

Emma has been writing about music for 25 years, and is a regular contributor to Classic Rock, Metal Hammer, Prog and Louder. During that time her words have also appeared in publications including Kerrang!, Melody Maker, Select, The Blues Magazine and many more. She is also a professional pedant and grammar nerd and has worked as a copy editor on everything from film titles through to high-end property magazines. In her spare time, when not at gigs, you’ll find her at her local stables hanging out with a bunch of extremely characterful horses.