We come from an island. Not your typical Caribbean type place surrounded with palm trees and coconuts, this is a convict island. In the 1840’s somebody came up with a great idea to throw all the dregs of society onto a wooden boat and ship them off to the other side of the world. One hundred and seventy three years later and here we are; a punk rock ‘n roll band by the name of “Captives”.

“The visceral thrill of being throttled by razor-sharp guitars, slapped around the head by thundering drums and screamed at by a man gargling glass.” – Rolling Stone Magazine

”unadorned Rock and Roll with a hearty injection of Punk noise and attitude.” – The Rock Pit

”like a champion greyhound exploding from the gate with the fluffy bunny already torn to shreds in its jaws. It’s a sound that kicks you in the back of the skull with every drum beat, slices at your eardrums with every guitar lick, and tears at the back of your throat with every shriek – and is so distinctive that they had to give it a name themselves:
“Tasmanian Forest Horror.” – Chanel V

”Hurtling in on a lacerating, unprocessed riff and scream ripped directly from The Bronx’s Matt Caughthran’s recording playbook”. – Something Gold, Something New

”A groove-train ride of riff that somehow manages to pause long enough to incorporate a horn section within the two minute wrecking ball.” – Tonedeaf

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