Options during Winnipeg's winters are few. You can play hockey, drink, or you can pick up a guitar. After a snowfall, long nights are frequented by road crews, who dump endless truckloads of salt and sand onto a contorted patchwork of asphalt and concrete. On a mild day, slush is sprayed everywhere by traffic, turning what could have been a winter wonderland into a sea of ash. True of most cities that experience winter, but in Winnipeg there is something unique in how people resign themselves to this contamination. There are those who don't, who struggle under its weight. Hardcore punk, in its heyday and by definition, was an immediate expression of desperation. Under Pressure thrives in it. Come Clean is not a celebration; it is not a ticket to paradise. It's salt and grit. The album was too long in its making, twisting and tempering a result, which is nonetheless immediate and visceral in its impact, just as it should be. (yellow dog)