UK acoustic folk-punk mainstay Sam Russo returned on August 8 with Hold You Hard, his fourth full-length release for Red Scare Industries. Long celebrated for his unmistakable voice and unflinching storytelling, Russo expanded his sound here with a full band, pushing his songwriting into its most dynamic and emotionally open territory to date.
Hold You Hard spans ten tracks that balance ragged, full-band punk anthems with stripped-back acoustic confessionals. Russo was joined by Chris Stockings (guitar), Josh Hurrell (bass), and Matt Walrond (drums), who gave his songs added punch without sacrificing intimacy. The record shifted between the grit of the UK DIY underground and the sunburnt pulse of Southern California punk, stitched together by Russo’s instinctive lyricism and unmistakable delivery.
Written over a year marked by collaboration and personal upheaval, the album wrestles with distance, memory, and the ever-shifting weight of love. Russo explored family, heartbreak, chosen kin, and the kinds of ghosts that linger long after you’ve left the room. Tracks like “Bruises and Sunburn” and “Graveyard” dove into addiction and loss, while “Gator Lodge” and “Lifeguard Tower” burned with romance and fleeting wonder. “The Muckleshoot Casino,” one of the album’s most quietly devastating moments, captured dislocation and grief through the lens of a late-night journal entry turned song.
Other standouts included “Whinny Whinny,” a raw collaboration with Vinnie Caruana (The Movielife, I Am The Avalanche), and “Padlocks and Germs Burns,” a defiant postcard from the Punk Rock Museum in Las Vegas that doubled as a tribute to Red Scare’s legacy. Closing track “Unsolved Mysteries” tied Russo’s journey back to his 2010 debut Storm, revisiting old wounds with hard-won clarity.
From industrial estate rehearsals in Haverhill to stages shared with the likes of The Lawrence Arms, Tim Barry, and Lucero, Russo has spent the past decade carving out a singular place in punk songwriting. Hold You Hard stands as his most fearless step yet—a record that slowed down just enough to look grief, joy, and change directly in the eye, then sang them loud enough to shake the dust from the rafters.
