Fresh from touring Europe's filthy punk dives, Savage Pinkos played this town's equivalent, Cafe Bourbon Street, last Friday to celebrate the release of their first seven-inch.

Fresh from touring Europe's filthy punk dives, Savage Pinkos played this town's equivalent, Cafe Bourbon Street, last Friday to celebrate the release of their first seven-inch.

These ain't young pups, though, at least not exclusively. This crew has been making noise for many years in Columbus and around the world, compiling one of the city's more impressive rock resumes.

Your focal point is Jon Slak, punk frontman extraordinaire. The rail-thin, mischievous mic-wielder blurted sophomoric, disenchanted rants with The Jeffs for years before doing time in groups like Sick Thrills and the Cock Asians.

Manning one guitar is Smashy, a.k.a. Columbus rock institution Donovan Roth, whose C.V. includes Bob City, The Feelers, Sick Thrills and a hell of a lot more. Andrew Wagner, the voice behind Vegetative State's youthful uprising, handles the other six-string.

Then there's Buck behind the drums, bashing away in her first band ever.

Bass? Who needs bass?

The record is as raw as you'd hope from a band of this pedigree. If you're looking for crisp, clean production or lockstep precision, you might want to forget this and see which punk bands are coming through The Basement instead.

Savage Pinkos are more about brute force and balls-out excitement, which the record delivers in five bursts no longer than two minutes each.

Slak's intentionally obnoxious affectations are set to a rapid rampage of harsh power chords, occasionally sprouting some variation like the zippy little sock-hop riff that snakes through "We're So Cheap" or the treble bomb pull-offs in "She Wants It Sexy."

Punk rock means a lot of things to a lot of people, and to Savage Pinkos it seems to be about how much havoc you can wreak with a bad attitude and marginal competency with your instrument. The record's answer: Quite a bit of havoc, thank you!

Friday's show underscored the band's strengths, particularly Slak's flair for the dramatic. The man was born to flail around a stage and belt out sniveling tirades - a former class clown for sure, or a wallflower, no in-between.

His bandmates brought some extra tricks to the table too, even indulging in an instrumental slow-jam breakdown during one number. It was a surprisingly artsy interlude, but soon enough Slak was bent backwards into the audience, bleating away about who knows what. Something nasty, I'm sure.