The Mob - No Doves Fly Here

THE MOB - NO DOVES FLY HERE

Hailing originally from Yeovil, in Somerset, at a tender age The Mob had run away from home to join not the circus but the hippies, touring the length and breadth of the land with Here And Now in a series of free gigs and festivals. This formative experience led them to up-sticks permanently and move to London whereupon they had become firmly ensconced in the sprawling squatting community of Hackney.

Prior to their Crass label release, The Mob had already put out two singles on their own All The Madmen Records. The first, Crying Again, served as a neat vinyl introduction to the band but the second, entitled Witch Hunt, was something altogether very different.

Presented to a much wider audience via airplay on the John Peel show, Witch Hunt was an extremely curious and breathtakingly powerful composition evoking images and feelings long buried in the depths of the English psyche. To a bass-driven groove awash with rudimentary, chopping electric guitar and whispering voices, vocalist Mark Mob was touching upon an unstated awareness of purity and freedom that through a very real perception of surrounding and encroaching fear and danger was lent a value and fragility beyond words.

"Stubbing out progress where seeds are sown, killing off anything that's not quite known, sitting around in a nice safe home - Waiting for the witch hunt. Idle plans for the idle rich, knitting the economy not dropping a stitch, destroying anything that doesn't quite fit - Waiting for the witch hunt. Changing your course for another way, you better stop that or be willing to pay, never mind son you'll come around some day - Under pressure from the witch hunt. Still living with the English fear - Waiting for the witch hunt. Always living with the English fear - Waiting for the witch hunt..."

The Mob were a very special band and Witch Hunt was a very, very special record indeed that called out to like-minded souls in a way that few records do. The Mob were possessed of a strange spirit - the holders of a flame - and them forging a link with Crass could almost have been preordained; the resulting record - No Doves Fly Here - being for many people (Penny Rimbaud included) one of the best things to ever be released on the Crass label.

Essentially, No Doves Fly Here was a description of a war-ravaged world with Mark Mob gazing upon the destruction and horror in sadness, anger and disbelief:

"The sky is empty and it's turning different shades of colour, it never did before and we never asked for war. My mind is empty and my body different shapes of torture, it never was before and we never asked for war. The buildings are empty and the countryside is wasteland, it never was before and we never asked for war. The playgrounds are empty and the children limbless corpses, they never were before and they never asked for war. No-one is moving and no doves fly here. No-one is thinking and no doves fly here. No-one remembers beyond all this fear - and no doves fly here."

What elevates the rather simple anti-war lyrics to a superior level is the tone and the tremble in the vocal delivery but what elevates the whole song to an utterly superior level is the production work of Penny Rimbaud.

Mixing in synthesiser noises, crashing cymbals, apocalyptic trumpets, echoes of children playing and heavenly choirs, the song is given an epic, cinematic feel that coming from the unlikely source of a group of Anarcho Punk squatters is really very impressive. From sheer despair at the horror of war, The Mob (along with Penny Rimbaud) had crafted a thing of beauty and grace that would forever stand as one of the greatest though widely unacknowledged anti-war anthems ever.

Though very much a timeless record, No Doves Fly Here could only have been composed during that specific early 1980s period when the fear of nuclear war was widespread, deeply held and very real. This genuine anxiety regarding the threat of nuclear war was so embedded, it would seem, that any lesser war was almost palatable.

Which might go some little way in explaining the Falklands war, if not the support for it then the relative lack of protest against it...

Dirt - Object Refuse Reject Abuse

DIRT - OBJECT REFUSE REJECT ABUSE

Barely a month would go by, it would seem, that Crass were not out touring somewhere in the British Isles; always off the beaten track at venues such as community halls, independent clubs and even scout huts. Poison Girls, Flux Of Pink Indians, and Annie Anxiety were the regular touring partners but suddenly from out of the blue a completely unknown band called Dirt began appearing with them.

Clad in Punk black, entering to an Ennio Morricone score and playing beneath a banner emblazoned with the slogan 'Object Refuse Reject Abuse', Dirt would launch themselves at an audience and leave it reeling with a short but harsh barrage of utterly brilliant Punk rock.

Led by the yelping vocals of Punkerella Deno alongside the snarling vocals of lead guitarist Gxist, this was a band whose main influence was so obviously Crass but with their own individual style and identity. Without any forewarning, Vice Squad et al were suddenly and utterly redundant.

Almost inevitably a record by Dirt was released on the Crass label, entitled - as their stage banner declared - Object Refuse Reject Abuse. Ushered in by a beautifully simple but spine-tingling bass, drums and fuzzbox guitar fanfare ably produced as ever by Penny Rimbaud, the record kicked off with a thoroughly hearty "Twothreefour!" before spewing out four short but perfectly formed Anarcho tirades:

"It's only a matter of time before it happens here cos down in Hiroshima they live in constant fear. Don't say they won't, don't say they can't cos at this very moment they're building a nuclear plant. Inside are the chemicals that make the dangerous gasses, all it'll take is one leak and down will go the masses... Unemployment is getting too high, don't let them fool you with a lie. They'll find a solution of that I'm sure, they'll drop a bomb, start a fucking war... Stand up and fight, is what they said but I don't want to end up fucking dead... Democracy's a con job, they got you fooled, if you step out of line they'll have you pulled. You can't go against them, it ain't allowed, so watch yourself, hide in the crowd. Wait for the day cos it's bound to come, you won't need a fist and you won't need a gun. The system is there, the system will stay. The system will rule - OK. Birth control, life control, death control. Education of their wrong and right, of their order and of their law. Don't take it, it's just a con. Don't take it, you know it's wrong. It's just a front so they can use you, it's just a front so they can cheat you. Object! Refuse! Reject! Abuse! Object! Refuse! Reject! Abuse!"

This was an exercise in rabid minimalism, fully realised and performed with much passion. Dirt were a brilliant Punk band - succinct, sharp, energised and angry - and their début record warranted being played over and over again.

Crass Records were back on track, underlined and confirmed by the next release on the label by The Mob, entitled No Doves Fly Here...

Zounds - Dancing

ZOUNDS - DANCING

For some, Merry Crassmas may well have been a humorous note to end the year on but for far more people seeing Margaret Thatcher in tears was a much more amusing and fulfilling way to start the new year. So resolute was Thatcher in her coldness toward those feeling the brunt of her policies in the negative - from peace campaigners, to the unemployed, to families of H-Block prisoners - that she was fast becoming the most detested Prime Minister of all time.

When her son, Mark, went missing in the Sahara Desert for six days whilst taking part in the Paris-Dakar rally, Thatcher was shown visibly worried and upset but even this could draw no sympathy or compassion toward her from a great swathe of the public. Thatcher was viewed as being heartless and unforgiving, and as for her son: he was just an over-privileged, upper class twit who had somehow managed to get himself lost somewhere in the world.

1982 was to be a year of divisions, extremes and polar opposites where the gulf between mainstream conformity and alternatives to the mainstream would become ever wider. This gulf was illustrated immediately simply by the difference between the two records holding the Number One positions in the National Charts and the Independent Charts at the start of January.

On the one side, European Song Contest winners Bucks Fizz regaled the nation with Land Of Make Believe, an Abba-lite song of harmless pop fluff. On the other side, Punker/biker combo Anti-Nowhere League assaulted listeners with a psyched-up version of the Ralph Mctell classic, Streets Of London.

Years later, the composer of Land Of Make Believe would state that his was a virulent anti-Thatcher song, though no-one would ever have guessed. The Anti-Nowhere League would make no such claims but of the two, it was theirs that was seized by the Obscene Publications Squad due to the colourful language on the record's B-side, in the song So What?

The one thing in common between these songs and the groups behind them was that essentially everything was being done for entertainment purposes only and - it should be said - both succeeding very well in this. Those seeking a more thoughtful kind of entertainment would have to wait for the next 7" single release from Zounds, which hot on the heels of their début album would prove to be the year's first unquestionably classic record.

Built upon a simple organ riff and gliding guitar with dub bass and tambourine brought forward in the mix, Dancing was the sound of Zounds experimenting in the studio with wonderfully successful results. This was a song of deep foreboding, lyrically concerning itself with pre-World War 2 Germany but dealing with an anxiety easily transposed to 1980s Britain.

"It's 1933" and as war looms all that girls and boys are worried about is dancing and making a noise: "Munich, Berlin, Cologne, sweet mother Germany. Come to the cabaret, don't worry about history". Before too long "It's 1938" and "peace seems so far away" and those same boys and girls will never be dancing again.

The song ends with the refrain "Never, never, never again," sung with the dual meaning of never to be dancing again and never (in the same sense that Discharge had screamed it the year previously) for there to be war again.

Zounds would go on to record two more 7" single records before disbanding for reasons that for years would remain unclear but Dancing would forever be the pinnacle of their artistic endeavours and so-called musical career. Very few bands, in fact, ever reach the heights that Zounds did, particularly with the song Dancing and if only for this reason Zounds would pass into legend and be always held in high esteem.

Labelled as a Crass/Punk band by the mainstream music press, this was never really an apt description of Zounds although a large amount of Punk rockers were admittedly attracted to them. Evidence of them sitting uncomfortably with the Punk label was given when they played bottom-of-the-bill support to The Exploited, Anti-Pasti and Vice Squad at a major Punk gig held at the Lyceum, in London. To say that Zounds were the odd ones out at the gig is to put it mildly.

Serving much better the demands of this type of audience were a number of independent record labels such as Rondolet, Clay, and No Future that were dealing specifically in hardcore Punk bands. The leading label of this kind, however, was arguably Riot City, based in Bristol.

Founded initially to launch the Last Rockers EP by Vice Squad, the label had gone on to release a plethora of records upon an unsuspecting public by the like of Chaos UK, Court Martial, Abrasive Wheels, and The Insane. Though jumping ship to EMI after just two releases on Riot City, Vice Squad were the undisputed leading representatives of what a female-fronted street Punk band could be like. Until, that is, the arrival of Dirt...

Crass - Merry Crassmas

CRASS - MERRY CRASSMAS

1981 had been a tumultuous year marked by Thatcherism, protest, urban riots, and the emergence of a new kind of politically conscious Punk. What other way for it to end than with a Christmas message from Crass, returning once again in the guise of Creative Recording And Sound Services?

Displaying once more their own particular and peculiar brand of humour, Merry Crassmas was a record that it's fair to say came as a surprise to everybody, not least for the fact that Crass's special guest vocalist was none other than Father Christmas.

"Merry Crassmas everybody, I hope you have a jolly time and lots and lots of fun and a happy new year to you all!" exclaimed the great man himself as a medley of traditional festive tunes and Crass melodies were played out on a Casio keyboard. "And if you're munching your delicious turkey at the moment," he continued "I HOPE IT FUCKING CHOKES YOU!!!"

As a special Christmas treat, the cover of the record also boasted a 'super fun time competition' for everyone to enter in which the titles of 'the exciting Crass songs' on the record had to be listed. The first prize being bath salts, the second prize being one Exploited single, the third prize being two Exploited singles...

Poison Girls - Total Exposure

POISON GIRLS - TOTAL EXPOSURE

"Never mind The Bomb, who's got the biggest cock?!" So began Poison Girls' second album, Total Exposure, a live recording of a gig played in Edinburgh at a venue called the Lasswade Centre in July of 1981. Thrown out at the audience almost as a challenge, the question was effectively setting the scene for the evening's entertainment.

Poison Girls were never ones for equivocating or for messing around so immediately hauled the audience out into the deep end by launching into their most well known song, Persons Unknown, delivered on this occasion with a twist. Rather than the swirling vortex as played on the Crass label 7" single release, the tempo was being upped and topped-off with the near operatic backing vocals of bassist Bernhardt Rebours, instantly turning the song and subsequently the gig into a joyous celebration.

Most bands, of course, would always save their most well known song for last, played usually as an encore but not for Poison Girls such hoary rock'n'roll traditions. They instead were coming out fighting like a heavyweight boxer, delivering knock-out blows that immediately sent the audience reeling.

"State control and rock'n'roll," continued Vi Subversa without so much as a pause between songs "Are run by clever men. They build you up and they break you down, you're on the dole again. State control and rock'n'roll are run by clever men. It's all good for business, we're in the charts again - Ha ha! You know it's true but what can you do? You look for a gap to get out of the trap it's a vicious circle, try and break loose. Break out of the trap! Get out of the noose! You know it's true but what can you do? What you're feeling is a human being not this year's thing or last year's thing. This year's thing or last year's thing oh state control and rock'n'roll are run by clever men... And anarchy is this year's thing."

The same upbeat pace continues through to the song Tension, taking in Old Tart's Song and Bully Boys and by this point in the proceedings it's apparent to all that Poison Girls are the holders of a bright but very subversive intelligence. Alongside the sheer enjoyment, the dancing, the tunes and the sheer exuberance of the gig it's clear that a dialogue is going on. Questions were being asked, ideas floated and preconceived notions challenged: "The tension between what you do and you don't do, the tension between what you can and you can't do. The tension between what you will and you won't do - oh, what you won't do! Tension is how you spend most of your life, the smile in your eyes in spite of the lies... If you had wings my love would you fly? If you knew that you never would die would you live - would you try?"

There was no sense of preaching from the stage or in any of the lyrics, just an urge to the listener to open up, be brave, and dare to talk openly, dare to act honestly, and dare to reveal their true self without fear of ridicule or insult. Just as Vi Subversa - a middle-aged mother singing on stage as part of an Anarcho Punk band - was doing: "Total exposure - total abandon. Total exposure - total control."

By mid way into the gig (and mid way into the album), the ice has not only been broken but smashed to smithereens with band and audience alike fully at ease with each other and 'freed-up'; this being the point that things get interesting.

"My greatest moments," said Vi in an interview with the NME "Are the moments when I've done really tender bits, live, to quite ferocious-looking audiences, because what I'm doing is to address that tender part in those people. And when that actually works, it's really moving."

So, much slower songs such as Other and Daughters And Sons are played without losing grip of the audience and in fact, causing the grip on and the bond with the audience to tighten. This is when Poison Girls get intimate, though it comes with a caveat as Vi declares in the song Fucking Mother: "I'm not your fucking mother and I'm not your fucking whore, I'm not your baby sister or the girl next door. You can roll your eyes to heaven for a virgin to adore but there's someone right beside you, who could ask for more? As you eye each other up for a fuck or a fight."

Then it's full steam ahead into the last lap of the gig with the band calling out in unison during the song Dirty Work, "We don't want your dirty war! We don't want your dirty war!"; before ending with the song Alienation, with guitarist Richard Famous stating "There's no choice for you, no choice for me," over and over again as Vi counters with two very simple questions: "What you gonna do about it? What are we gonna do about it?"

Total Exposure was a snapshot of Poison Girls at the top of their game though so fluid were they that there was no chance of it pinning them down or capturing them for posterity. From their very start, they were always an impossible band to pigeon-hole and though their politics were solid and steadfast, their constant twisting and turning made them an extremely unusual if not challenging prospect.

Years later, Penny Rimbaud would say: "Poison Girls were an absolutely extraordinary group of people led by a very powerful feminist voice, as in Vi Subversa - a brilliant poet. They were a complete equal to us (Crass) on every level. They talked personal politics, we talked social politics. They were talking about the real issues as in how do you get out of bed in the morning, where as we were talking, 'well, I've got out of bed, I've had my coffee, I've had my 38 cigarettes and now I'll talk politics'."

Released on their own XNTrix label, Total Exposure marked a turning point in Poison Girls' trajectory, having announced with the release of the album that they would no longer be partnering with Crass: "By the 97th gig," Vi explained "It was becoming clear that Crass's commercial success was obscuring what we were doing. If you're in a partnership and one partner becomes dominant... the classic example is a marriage. It became clear we had to get out of that. I never wanted to be a wife - certainly not Crass's."

Sadly - but rightly - it was something that had to be done. The Crass/Poison Girls partnership had fired untold imaginations and was the catalyst to launch a thousand bands but the popularity of Crass was eclipsing what Poison Girls were doing, meaning they were starting to be viewed as a support act rather than a force unto themselves. Both bands would have been aware of this which meant it was an unfair situation for both to be in. Poison Girls could easily have played it safe and rode along to see where things might lead but of course, they weren't the kind of people to do that.

It was a brave move and what better way to signal change was afoot than by the release of Total Exposure on Poison Girls' own label? An exceptionally good live recording of an exceptionally good band that bared them to one and all - the cover sleeve being see-through and the vinyl clear - showing they had nothing to be ashamed about, nothing to hide, and everything, in fact, to be very proud of.