You can't keep a good punk down.

Pioneering Painesville indie rock veteran Scott "Cheese" Borger is back with a new album celebrating (and lamenting) life on the North Coast and the onset of middle age for musicians living the dream in the rust belt. Seasoned with a pinch of nostalgia—but fueled by the same lo-fidelity rage that motivated Borger when he co-founded the legendary Pink Holes some thirty years ago—Terminal is a collection of sonic snapshots depicting a coming-of-age and self-actualization in the overcast climes of C-Town. Borger handles bass and most of the vocals on the disc, whose production and manufacture were overseen by fellow Ohioans (Mike McDonald & Adam Boose) at Cleveland facilities like Cauliflower Audio (studio) and Gotta Groove Records (vinyl pressing). But the album is also something of a group effort, with longtime friends and guitarist Nick Summa (Floyd Band) and drummer Steve-O (Death of Samantha) rounding out Borger's "Cleveland Steamers" band.

It's also a continuation of 2010's Lair Matic Assembly project—an EP the trio recorded with former Broncs / Offbeats guitarist Larry "Lair Matic" Lewis, who succumbed to cancer soon thereafter at age 49. Terminal arrives courtesy Smog Veil, the Chicago-based label that issued Assembly—and the Borger-edited compilations Pies & Ears: Cleveland Then and Now, Volumes I and II. One wonders if the title alludes not only to our fair city's most iconic building, but also Matic's prognosis, albeit as a physical manifestation of the desperation and cynicism shared by many living (either by choice or accident of birth) along the Erie shore—an oppression symbolized by the rat trap on the cover sleeve.

Musically, Terminal bears earmarks of Borger influences like The Ramones, The Dead Boys, and (even more localized) The Pagans—whose Mike Hudson contributes a spoken-word vocal early on (They're gonna kill someone!). It's more pop than Pink Holes but retains a dry, dark sound whose edginess might be traced back to Joy Division and The Cure.

Borger duets with Meredith Rutledge on "Chatterin' Monkeys," a rollicking opener whose bouncing bass recalls (Megadeth bassist) Dave Ellefson's legendary intro to "Peace Sells." But Summa anoints the track with a crackling, clean guitar lead rife with bends and vibrato, wailing over guest drummer Nick Knox's snappy snare and kick drum (Velvet Underground comes to mind). Ostensibly, it's a song about the psychic damage perpetrated by gossip-mongers, but it might well also serve as a paean to vices and bad habits—the monkeys clinging to our backs.

"I used to drown the bastards deep in a lake of booze," Borger deadpans, harmonizing with Rutledge. "But they never shut up." John D. Morton plies "Tim's Eyes" with a wall of constant feedback and ambient distortion, transforming the tune into a six-minute dreamscape. The verses plod along, building to a grungy "he's already gone" refrain, Borger's voice echoing and fading plaintively. The droning ditty incorporates Godzilla's signature growl, and Borger's demented "jeepers, creepers" scat and primal screams—coupled with Morton's feral guitar—make the track a suitable score for an arty film about dementia or addiction. The outro even quotes Neil Young's "Needle and the Damage Done."

Terminal's spiritual center is "Cleveland," a homage / slam on the town that so often provides entrepreneurs and artists like Borger with opportunities only to pull the rug out from under their feet—like The Peanuts' Lucy retracting her football at the last possible moment, laughing as Charlie Brown trips over himself. An appropriately dirty guitar riff charges sinister verses about a day-in-the life of Cleveland commuter, who pulls back the shades in the morning just to discover "of course it's grey" outside. The protagonist's car is buried (under snow, we presume), so he takes RTA to work and ponders the waves crashing over the break wall. The tempo shifts drastically as stray dogs and puddles obstruct his progress along Euclid, and he finds himself longing to be transported back to a time when he wasn't so jaded. Salvation comes in the form of a memory about an old girlfriend, and the sun serendipitously pokes from behind the clouds, "sparkling on the tower." The epiphany forces Borger's broken man to reconsider leaving. Levity is restored with "Falling Apart," where Summa's surf guitar and Borger's trebly bass power an ode to a dead dog and the friendship shared with its chagrined owner. Feeling lonely, the antihero took his friends' advice and bought a pooch at the local pound—but over the years he learned more "tricks" from the canine than he taught.

"Looking down, see nothing but your empty dish," mourns Cheese. "I should have just got a fish."

"Never Enough" has Borger pining for the old days, "falling for the wrong girl" at the basement parties he hosted at a rented house in Painesville. Jangly guitars charge the nostalgia for "friends like you," but listeners are forced to consider that perhaps their youth—like Borger's—wasn't as "misspent" as they think. Because if that time was truly wasted, why dwell on it so fondly?

Doe-eyed love song "The Apple Tree" benefits from a catchy "ooh-aah" chorus by Borger and Rutledge, but the bass—subsumed by Knox's dominant snare—could be louder. Steve-O pummels the kit on "Hot Biscuits," a booming, percussion-laden ode to the female anatomy where the double entendres are decorated by cowbell, handclaps, and a coach's whistle. Pagans manager-turned L.A. graphic designer Johnny Dromette cameos on "The Jalopy," a cantankerous car tune fully primed with muscle beach bravado.

"Give it some gas—does it move that ass?" queries Dromette over the goofy twelve-bar measures as Morton conjures spooky sounds from a theremin.

The Steamers sign off with "Glad You're Dead," whose lyric exploit the recent zombie craze by imagining the joy felt by someone who's loved one is actually dead, as opposed to un-living and ravenous for blood ‘n' guts.

"If you ever come back a zombie, I'll be sure to put a bullet in your head," Borger promises.

Morton's guitar zings over Summa's tinkling piano passages as the holocaust of the undead unfolds. Steve-O returns on drums, adding tambourine and cans to the mix as Borger gives his best Tom Waits cackle.

Here's hoping Borger and The Cleveland Steamers offer a second helping in the not-so-distant future.