Punk rock at its best is a collision of noise and melody, rage and purpose, past and present. Enter UltraBomb, a trio that doesn’t just flirt with that spirit, they weaponize it. On their third album, The Bridges That We Burn, the band turns decades of underground history and road wisdom into something proudly punk rock.

Calling UltraBomb a “supergroup” undersells the pedigree baked into its DNA. Bassist Greg Norton of Hüsker Dü) drummer Derek O'Brien (whose résumé runs through Social Distortion, Agent Orange, and Adolescents), and vocalist-guitarist Ryan Smith of current-day Soul Asylum aren’t here to relive past glories. They’re here to keep flying the flag. Produced by John Fields—a man whose name has showed up on such a wide array of records from the past three decades it would be a disservice to name just a few—The Bridges That We Burn puts a spotlight on everything you love about punk rock, punk pop, and every offshoot in between.

The first blast from the album, “No Cap,” is where the band’s entire reason for being snaps into focus. With its charging guitar riffs and a rhythm section that hits like a clenched fist, the song reaches back to classic punk rock to create the sound of modern frustration, every second of it being direct and purposeful. It doesn’t try to outshout the noise, it simply slices through it. Norton frames it plainly: a world drowning in opinions, informed and otherwise, demands less posturing and more real conversation. The song answers like a verdict you can sing along to.

There’s a particular energy at work here. UltraBomb tap into the glory of early Minneapolis punk while threading in the ragged, heart-on-sleeve sentiments of alt rock’s early golden age. As Magnet put it, the band hits like a “swift blow to the sternum,” merging speed and melody into messages that leave a mark. What makes The Bridges That We Burn linger isn’t just its punch, but its aim…which is true. These songs have something to say—anthemic without forcing it, emotional without preaching it. Melody and momentum lock together like gears, driving forward with a sense that something really matters inside the noise.