★★★★
Don't Panic Records & Distro; Apr. 1
In the classic punk tradition, The Muslims hold nothing back. The Durham trio’s new album, Mayo Supreme, is an in-your-face wrestling match with the white supremacy embedded in the structure of not just America, but of the world. Punk doesn’t always feel relatable to me, especially the mad-white-boy variety, but The Muslims’ timely lyrics, paired with radical queer sentiment, offer something fresh and palatable.
The cover of Mayo Supreme sports a hilarious depiction of band members FaraH BaHbaH, QADR, and Abu Shea posing in an ironic nod to all-American-family portraits. The album itself is essentially a twelve-track takedown of people who are complacent in white supremacy and don’t see themselves as having a mandate to help break it down. If you find yourself shying away from difficult conversations about identity politics or political work surrounding marginalized groups, you’re probably going to feel actively attacked by this album—and that’s the point. Like all good punk, Mayo Supreme intends to wake people up from apathy toward radical ideas about the human condition and the social structures of the world.
There’s an absolute, necessary rage flowing through almost every track, though the record allows for humor and tenderness as well. The title track speaks to the idea of who actually gets to be a responsible gun owner in the public consciousness, while “America the Great” infuses familiar nationalistic phrases with the sordid, horrific history of race relations, slavery, and colonialism in America. But then “Stew” is a love song that vocalist QADR wrote for their partner. For fans of punk—and anyone concerned about the foundational values America supposedly stands for—Mayo Supreme is the kind of self-interrogation we could all use these days.
