by Ed Biggs Absolutely everything about post-hardcore punk newcomers Bad Breeding sounds perfect. Hailing from Stevenage, an increasingly anonymous Home Counties satellite town serving London, whose high street is absolutely identical to so many other British nowheresvilles and where the local economy has virtually disappeared from the ground, their guttural music at first glance scans as an existential howl of wasted youth, at the encroaching entrapment imposed by socio-economic dictates of
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