Crass - Christ The Album

CRASS - CHRIST THE ALBUM

'Crass by name, even worse by nature, like it or not, they just won't go away. Crass are the distempered dog end of rock'n'roll's once bright and vibrant rebellion. That they're so unattractive, unoriginal and badly unbalanced in an uncompromising and humourless, extremist sort of way, simply adds to the diseased attraction of their naively black and white world where words are a series of shock slogans and mindless token tantrums to tout around your tribe and toss at passers by. Good old Crass, our make believe secret society, our let's pretend passport to perversity. They're nothing but a caricature and a joke.'

So began Crass' third album proper, quoting from a review of one of their gigs as published in Melody Maker music paper. Since the release of The Feeding Of The 5000 and the reviews it had received at the time, nothing much had changed, it seemed. Reputations were still in jeopardy.

Entitled Christ - The Album, this was Crass's most ambitious project yet. Arriving in an impressive black box set, the entire package consisted of two separate LPs, a huge fold-out poster showcasing another of Gee Vaucher's masterly photo-montages, plus a grand, album-sized booklet.

Have A Nice Day, the first track on side 1 saw Crass returning to the pop wonderland of Great Britain 1982 in fine, unfettered form; delivering a scathing riposte in the manner of Hurry Up Garry to all their latest critics and detractors: "Same old stuff you've heard it all before, Crass being crass - about the system or is it war? We ain't got no humour, we don't know how to laugh. Well, if you don't fucking like it - FUCKING TOUGH!"

Returning to the fore as lead vocalist following his absence from Penis Envy, Steve Ignorant had lost none of his charm and eloquence: "Well bollocks to the lot of you and you can fuck off too, if you're bored with what I say, no-one's asking you. Just fuck off and have your fun, hoist your Jolly Roger and wave your plastic gun. With your painted face and elegant style, how about trying to think for a while?"

Returning also was the absolutely unique sound of Crass in full, squealing Punk Rock mode: "I'm the same old monkey in the same old zoo, with the same old message, trying to get through. Screaming from the platform when the train ain't even there, I've got a one way ticket but I don't fucking care."

And once again, Steve Ignorant was spitting fire and damnation upon all the "senile idiots in their seats of power, ancient rotting corpses breathing horror by the hour. They're lovers of death those fucking creeps, screwing our earth as our earth weeps. Iron ladies and steel men, waiting for their fucking war to start again. Blood-lusting nutters plan death for us all, they'll be hiding in their bunkers as we watch the missiles fall. Ain't they just so decent, respectable and nice, eating the fat of the land while it's us who pay the price?"

This was all hail the conquering heroes of Anarcho Punk. Never mind Christ and never mind the bollocks, this was Crass resurrected and all for just 'Pay no more than £5.00'.

It was immediately apparent that a lot of care and consideration had been put into this latest release, from the packaging to the additional poster and booklet, right down to the more layered production of the music. The most important element and what the album would ultimately stand or fall on, however, was the lyrics and the subject matter of the songs themselves. "I'm the same old monkey in the same old zoo, with the same old message trying to get through," as Steve Ignorant was declaring from the start but what exactly was that message and how was it being delivered?

In the track Nineteen Eighty Bore, the message was essentially 'Kill your television': "Softly, softly into your life you're held in its brilliant glow. Softly, softly feeding itself on the you you'll never know. Your life's reduced to nothing but an empty media game, Big Brother ain't watching you, mate, you're 'kin' watching him."

In the track Buy Now Pay As You Go, the message was that consumerism is basically rubbish: "Work thirty years with one foot in the grave, possession junkie, consumer slave. If money buys freedom, it's already spent, your object's the subject of my contempt."

In the track Mother Love, the rather debatable message was that your parents are your first oppressors and that the family home is a prison: "Mummy and Daddy owned me til I could understand that at the end of my arm was my own fucking hand. That in my head I had a brain that they filled up with lies, that I didn't fucking need them with their love and family ties."

In the track Bumhooler, the message was (as Disorder had put it) 'Anarchy not apathy': "If they drop a bomb on us we fucking deserve it. We know we got it coming, we fucking deserve it."

And in the tracks Sentiment and Birth Control And Rock'n'Roll the message was an anti-war one: "I'm afraid for beauty when I see the fist... They teach our children in the classroom to respect a madman on a rostrum, to praise the dirty works of battle. Bring out the ribbon, balloon and rattle."

On a much broader level, Crass were continuing to offer no concessions to the system, or as they had put it in Banned From The Roxy, to "the fucked up system they call reality." As their critics were correctly pointing out this was an ongoing theme for Crass, where they were at complete odds with that which they deemed to be "the rules of normality."

In the track I Know There Is Love, Steve was asking: "Do you think I was born on this wretched earth for you to govern and kill? In your stinking factories and offices with your stupid systems and skills? You think I've got nothing better to do than to live in the lie that you give? Learn the sweet morals, the lessons, the games and praise God for the fact that I live?"

All in the same song, he then goes on to decry gender role models, commodified food, dole queue dependence, oppressive authority, the sham of democracy and then finally the Bible before stating: "You've given me hate when I know there is love."

Offering no let up (and possibly not wanting to disappoint their critics?) the same theme is again broached in what is one of the best songs on the album, entitled Reality Whitewash. Utilising a snatch of city centre ambient sound and orchestral-like synthesizer married to drums, bass and guitars, a sense of pathos is projected as a lyrical picture is painted of "the happy family, wife and hubby... The perfect social unit."

As to be expected, Crass's opinion of the nuclear family is not a very positive one, labelling the husband in the song "a rat," and accusing the wife of leading "a life of boredom." Though the characters depicted are quite sad if not rather unsavoury, they don't entirely have only themselves to blame for in many ways they too are victims: "And meanwhile he's out hunting, this master of the hunt, cruising down the high street in his endless search for cunt. And the posters on the hoardings encourage his pursuit, glossy ads where men are men and women simply cute... She switches on the telly, it makes her feel secure. Helps confirm her way of life, who needs to ask for more?"

Pressurised into being the people they are by commercial role models in adverts and on television, both husband and wife act out a game of "fantasy and falsehood, truth and lie." Both caught in cyclical, never ending fantasies "to fill in every crack. A whitewash on reality to hide the truth they lack." Then in all probability, in the loneliness of their marriage they'll want to have a child "who'll be taught the games of adulthood - boxed and filed. Another life to whitewash, to us a child is born to follow in its parents tracks, the path's well worn." All for no other reason than because "the system needs its servants, each birth is one more. They'll gently talk of freedom as they quietly lock the door. Cos the system needs its servants if the system's going to run, needs its fodder for the workhouse, its targets for the gun."

If reality was an asylum then its (padded) cell walls were all the things that Crass were railing against: Conformity, control, regulation, rule, law, government, war, religion, etc, etc. 'The system' was all these things combined and working together as a grinding, soul-destroying machine; functioning primarily for the benefit of itself and a tiny, ruling elite.

Rather than being as suggested by Melody Maker a 'naively black and white world', the system as being defined by Crass was actually a very complex affair that if not requiring any high level of intelligence certainly required a raised level of consciousness to recognise and understand it. Not possessing the wherewithal to grasp what Crass were saying or simply disagreeing with them was fair enough but for music critics to fail to grasp the allure of Punk Rock was unforgivable.

Were these critics not aware that in their ignorance they were falling in with the like of Phil Collins from Genesis, whose initial assessment of the Sex Pistols - "All I could see was a lack of talent," - exposed a basic conservatism? Or Cliff Richard, even, who after much prayer and contemplation declared the Pistols to be "The worst thing ever to happen to rock'n'roll." Were these critics not aware that in their conservatism their natural political bedfellows were the like of Tory supporters Spandau Ballet, Kenny Everett, and 'professional Scouser' Cilla Black?

Viewed like this, it was a wonder why Crass ever took their critics seriously at all?

More than almost any other band Crass were staying absolutely loyal to Punk as an idea, a state of mind, a way of life and a form of music and following the more melodious compositions on Penis Envy, most of the tracks on Christ - The Album were awash with the twin, Punk Rock tortured fuzzbox thrash of Andy Palmer (calling himself this time round 'Sri Hari Nana BA') and Phil Free.

"Punk's the people's music," Steve Ignorant was asserting on the track The Greatest Working Class Rip-Off "And I don't care where they're from. Black or white, Punk or skin, there ain't no right or wrong."

According to their most ardent critic, Garry Bushell, however, where you were from was of utmost importance and with his advocacy of Oi! as being the real, working class branch of Punk and Crass being middle class hippy drop-outs was continuing to cause antagonism within the Punk ranks. In a broad swipe against Oi!, Crass dismissed the groups aligned with it as being "money bands", which was a clever and quite damning criticism to which there was no real way of wriggling out of.

Less cutting was Crass's dismissal of the relevance of class: "Punk's the people's music," Steve Ignorant spat "So you can stuff ideas of class. That's just the way the system keeps you sitting on your arse. Class, class, class, that's all you fucking hear. Middle class? Working class? I don't fucking care."

There was room for everyone in the realm of Punk though whether you cared to acknowledge it or not, the subject of class still tended to nag away as an issue. To many of working class origin, Punk was a desperately needed incitement to something - anything - other than their given lot in life but to many of middle class origin, Punk was an indulgence. A cheap holiday in other people's rebellion. To believe that what class you were born into held no bearing on who and how you were and even your whole course through life was a middle class conceit. The real problem with Oi! was in Bushell's applauding of machismo, sexism, violence and all-round general dumbness; postulating that these were working class attributes which, of course, was absolute nonsense.

"Throughout our bloody history, force has been the game, the message that you offer is just the fucking same," Steve continued "You're puppets to the system with your mindless violent stance. That's right you fuckers, sneer at us cos we say 'Give peace a chance'."

This wouldn't be the first or the last time that Crass would quote from John Lennon, indicating that he was one of the very few figures from popular culture they were willing to openly endorse. In particular, Penny Rimbaud seemed to hold a lot of respect for him but given this, it was strange that the sentiments of Lennon's song Working Class Hero were being ignored except as a way of measuring the selling out of the Punk idea: "When you've bought your Rolls Royce car and luxury penthouse flat, you'll be looking down your nose and saying 'Punk, dear chap, what's that?'. You'll be the working class hero with your middle class dream and the world will be the same as the world has always been."

In many ways, The Greatest Working Class Rip-Off seemed to have been written more from a sense of frustration rather than from anything thoroughly thought through but seeing as how Crass were having to deal with the consequences of Bushell's sanctioning of Oi! in the form of frequent eruptions of violence at their gigs, they could hardly be blamed: "Punk once stood for freedom, not violence, greed and hate. Punk's got nothing to do with what you're trying to create. Anarchy, violence, chaos? You mindless fucking jerks. Can't you see you're talking about the way the system works?"

Not that it was only music journalists and Oi! that Crass were becoming increasingly frustrated with as there was also a significant portion of their own audience who to all intent and purpose on the surface appeared to be fairly fervent in their support of what Crass were saying but after scratching that surface just a little there could be found a bunch of drunken Exploited fans leering back.

As journalist X Moore (who was also lead vocalist of socialist supporting skinhead/soul band The Redskins) pointed out in a review of a Crass gig for the NME: 'Crass should not dismiss the large number of Nazi Punks who support them or the mentality that sprays 'The Exploited' next to the Crass logo on the studded leather surplice. If they are serious about their message they should take a look at their own tribal following, cos the message is not getting through.'

Only a fully paid-up member of the Socialist Workers Party (which X Moore was) could ever question the seriousness of Crass but apart from that it was a fair comment and one that in actual fact Crass were not shying away from. In the track You Can Be Who?, for example, this very subject was being addressed: "Anarchy, freedom, more games to play? Fight war not wars? Well, it's something to say. Slogans and badges worn without thought, instant identities so easily bought. Well, freedom ain't product, it isn't just fun. If you're looking for peace, your work's just begun."

Perhaps it was an inevitability that any half-decent band would spawn a legion of copycats slavishly mimicking their heroes style and image? The Sex Pistols certainly did this and so too The Clash and at every Siouxsie And The Banshees gig there would be a hundred Siouxsie Sioux clones staring back at the band. So why should Crass be any different?

Two years earlier in their song Big A Little A, Crass had implored their listeners to "be exactly who you want to be, do what you want to do. I am he and she is she but you're the only you." Two years later and their audience having grown somewhat, Crass seemed only too aware that they'd acquired a large number of 'fans'; in the derogatory, belittling, meaning of the word.

In the track Beg Your Pardon, this very dichotomy was addressed between what Crass were seeking from their audience and what they were actually finding: "What's the point in preaching peace if it's something you don't feel? What's the point in talking love if you think that love's not real? Where's the hope in hopelessness? Where's the truth in lies? Don't hold my hand if you can't look me in the eyes."

On another level, in the track Deadhead, Crass were also questioning the apparent dead-end of being caught-up in the excitement and fervour of supporting a rock'n'roll band of any description: "Oh boredom, psychological stunt, you never really feel it when you're up at the front. And it doesn't really matter where the hell it's going as long as everybody has the hot blood flowing."

The rock'n'roll arena of which Crass were very much a part of - withstanding all their efforts to be apart from it - was just another form of escapism; a panacea to the tired boredom of everyday living where everything was sewn up tight and held in check by the system. Having a laugh was better than not having a laugh as Crass would later say but at the same time the cathode-ray paradise, media drivel, rock'n'roll and all the radical frills that could be mustered were all still "docility pills"; just ways and means to "put off the ills".

Underlining the importance of this, the same point was being reiterated in the track You Can Be Who?, where Steve was singing: "Go climb a mountain, go fuck a scout. Avoidance of self is what it's about. Pretence and illusion to avoid who you are, don't work on yourself just polish the car. Switch on the telly, afraid you might find that as well as a body you've also a mind."

Real meaning, according to Crass, was to be found in the pursuit of freedom and in showing consideration and care. The obvious way of doing this was by fighting back against those who would deny freedom and who blatantly did not care. By "fighting oppression, aggression and hate. Fighting warmongers before it's too late". By fighting and stopping "the powerful and greedy who bind us with rules, politicians and preachers who bind us with laws".

According to Crass, real meaning and true freedom could be found by simply learning to say 'No'.

Possibly the most powerful if not the most important song on the whole album is Major General Despair, in which Crass appeared to be assessing the point they had reached in regard to their confronting of the war machine: "We're looking for a better world but what do we see? Just hatred, poverty, aggression, misery. So much money spent on war when three-quarters of the world is so helplessly poor."

Whilst the "generals and politicians who advocate war" are resoundingly condemned for being bent on world destruction, harsh criticism is also reserved for those seemingly just standing idly by as the world is destroyed: "There's so many of us, yet we let them have their way. At this moment they're plotting and planning. We've got to rise up to take their power away, to save the world that they're ruining."

Pondering the reason for this fear-fraught state of affairs, Crass were hinting at the growing sense of despair within their own camp: "Is it some part of themselves that has died that permits them to plan as they do? Or is it us that is dead? Do we simply hide from the responsibility to stop what they do?" But in defiance of the "death, pain and mutilation" being plotted by the "men of steel" minority and the avoidance of the responsibility to do the right thing by the public majority, Crass in the end offer a glimmer of hope by declaring: "If it's a fight they want - it's beginning."

From their original, singular position of "Fuck 'em, I've chosen to make my stand," in Banned From The Roxy, Crass were acknowledging that there were now others to stand together with in the sharing of their vision. By these words, Crass were acknowledging that they were no longer alone and at the same time reaching out to all those who felt the same, letting it be known that they too were not alone.

We had all been born into a world not of our making and told that there was no other alternative but to accept that this was just the way things are. But as The Mob had sang on No Doves Fly Here: "We never asked for war." Moreover, we never asked for any of this. If the world was wrong and you chose not to accept or embrace that wrongness, then the alternatives were to try to either escape from it or to confront it. The power of Crass lay in their fierce rejection of the imposed normality of the status quo and their active, living example and advocacy of possible alternatives.

Riding the crest of a wave, three years after their first assault upon and initial confrontation with the ways things are in the form of The Feeding Of The 5,000, the ideas that Crass were advocating were on the rise. There now seemed to be a distinct possibility that the world could indeed be changed: " Throughout history we've been expected to sing their song but now it's OUR turn to lead the singing."

Major General Despair was the last track on the first disc of the album and brought the proceedings to an end in a hugely positive and inspiring fashion thanks in no small part to a brilliant piece of production by one 'Elvis Rimbaud'. As Steve Ignorant kicks off a chant of "Fight war not wars, make peace not war, fight war not wars, we know you've heard it before," he's joined en masse by the whole band chanting in unison: "Fight war not wars, make peace not war, fight war not wars, make love not war."

As the chanting starts to fade out it's taken over by the sound of a spirited crowd chanting out the refrain: "1, 2, 3, 4 we don't want your fucking war, 1, 2, 3, 4 we don't want your fucking war." Two samples of dialogue are then mixed and blended together, the first as spoken by Andy Palmer: "War is confirmation of the imposed reality in which we exist. A constant, violent reminder of the lengths to which those that impose that reality will go. We are prisoners within that reality until we create our own." The other, as spoken by noted English historian and veteran peace campaigner EP Thompson: "We don't have civilisation any more. We have a state of barbarism. A state of barbarism in which we are daily, hourly, threatening with annihilation our fellow citizens. Now, looking at you, I know one thing: We can win. We can win! I want you to, I want you to sense your own strength."

Of all the messages on Christ - The Album this message of 'We can win' was the most pertinent, the most powerful and the most resounding. A message that in the face of Thatcher and her rejuvenated post-Falklands confidence in the absolute rightness of her policies was very much needed. Likewise, the message of 'Sense your own strength'.

EP Thompson had delivered these declarations just a year before during a mass CND rally in London where thousands had gathered to protest the decision to site Cruise missiles in the UK. Looking out upon the crowds that day, however, it was apparent that there was a lot more concern than there was actual anger over impending nuclear was and whilst some of the rhetoric being bandied about was combative, the general mood was one of creating change via persuasion via the democratic process.

The demonstrators were of the perfectly correct conviction that a build-up in nuclear weapons was morally wrong and were calling for unilateral disarmament and peace in an age of mutually assured destruction and the increasing likelihood of all-out war. "We can win," EP Thompson had stated and he was right. In the battle for hearts and minds, CND was achieving remarkable results as evidenced by the huge groundswell of support it was garnering. The government was becoming only too well aware of this and in response was launching counter-propaganda campaigns against the unilateralists as well as increasing the State monitoring of leading campaigners. So much for democracy, then.

By calling for the demonstrators to sense their own strength, EP Thompson's intention was for them to realise that collectively they were stronger than any government who for all their missiles and bombs were so lacking in confidence that nuclear weapons could maintain peace that they had prepared underground bunkers to retreat to as an insurance. So much for their moral convictions, then.

Since the making of this speech (and between Crass recording and releasing Christ - The Album), however, the Falklands war had come and gone, exposing some very real problems inherent within the peace movement. The almost total lack of response from CND and its thousands of supporters regarding the Falklands crisis revealed it to be essentially a single issue movement preoccupied solely with nuclear weapons. When it came to conventional weapons and conventional war, CND seemed to lose its voice.

As if this wasn't enough, the idea that the government could be petitioned or that they could be asked - no matter by how many people - to act morally seemed now suddenly to be incredibly naive. Thatcher had gone to war with Argentina with no hesitation, taking with her a willing and compliant populace and in the process had proved herself to be a very strong, very ruthless and very dangerous leader.

In one fell swoop the political landscape had been changed and much like after the summer urban riots of 1981 there were now some very hard lessons to be learned. The gloves were once more off and once again it was different rules now.

With the passing of the Falklands crisis the original meaning of EP Thompson's message to the CND masses seemed to change too, particularly after being transposed onto a Crass album. 'We can win' still ultimately meant the same but now only if we were willing to fight. Now, only if we were willing to stop asking and instead start demanding.

'Sense your own strength' seemed now to be addressed not to the crowd or to the collective movement but to the lone listener in their bedroom playing their Crass album. Though the world outside the bedroom window was frightening and ugly, there was hope and beauty out there too. The world belonged to that lone listener. The world was ours and we could either help save it or assist in destroying it. We could either help to change it for the better or assist in changing it for the worse. The power to do so was in the hands of each and every one of us, neatly summed up by the words scratched onto the run-out groove of the album vinyl: 'The dawn is in us - The dawn is for us.'

Spliced between each track on the first disc of the album were various snatches and samples of dialogue taken from the radio and television juxtaposed to highlight the absurdity, the hypocrisy and the contradictions in what was being said; all tying in and serving as neat introductions to the songs. Forwarding the track Nineteen Eighty Bore, for example, Thatcher could be heard wringing her hands over riotous youth and urban insurrection in Northern Ireland: "They were a tragedy weren't they, t'was a terrible evening, dreadful as we saw those scenes on television and saw how marvellous our police were." Whilst a subsequent news report on the same subject suggests there might be good reason for the rioters' anger: "The pattern of rioting intensified with mounting anger at the two teenagers killed by an army Land Rover."

Forwarding the track Beg Your Pardon, Thatcher again is heard, this time standing up for law and order: "We must beat the bomb and the gun. We must protect the law abiding citizen wherever they are in the United Kingdom, always." That same law and order is then put into perspective by a documentary voice-over: "The police and the soldiers are required if necessary to shoot to kill to maintain order. That is Civil Defence in nuclear war."

This experimenting with audio sampling was being taken to grander heights on the second disc of the album, awarded the provocative title 'Well Forked - But Not Dead'. Essentially, the whole record was an aural scrapbook comprised of songs taken from a Crass gig at the 100 Club in London the previous year, along with studio out-takes and old Crass radio recordings.

The tracks taken from the 100 Club set were a measure of just how far Crass had come as a live band. On Stations Of The Crass a live recording of one of their early gigs had been included on the last side of the second disc capturing Crass in their infancy where the ceaseless adrenaline rush of anger from the stage resulted in an exhausting cacophony lightened only by Andy Palmer (BA Nana) reciting a line from a Buzzcocks song. Going by the 100 Club recording, not only had the energy level risen over the years but the band were now being accompanied by the audience chanting along to the wordy diatribes in mass unison. Whilst the Stations album live recording of a Crass gig was hard going, the 100 Club recording was an invigorating joy.

The studio out-takes on Well Forked reveal Crass to be rather enjoying themselves during the recording process as shown by the humorous exchanges and remarks being made. Alongside these were short, spoken-word pieces ranging from Eve Libertine rejecting women's struggle for the right to vote, Joy De Vivre pondering the subject of war, and Steve Ignorant reciting an old Japanese Zen story. Not to mention Andy Palmer contemplating and reciting an ode to his prick.

The radio recordings on the record reveal something of Crass's early history, not least in two songs - I Can't Stand It and Heartthrob Of The Mortuary - taken from their first venture into a recording studio that interestingly display an almost rockabilly slant to their music.

Shedding even more light upon where Crass were from and where they were at was the enclosed 28-page booklet entitled A Series Of Shock Slogans And Mindless Token Tantrums, the title being taken from the aforementioned Melody Maker review. Featuring the lyrics to the new songs on the album, contact addresses of various peace and animal welfare groups, and three essays written by Pete Wright, Penny Rimbaud and Crass film collaborator Mick Duffield, this booklet was to be one of the most important pieces of work ever released by Crass.

The essay by Pete Wright was an angry and colourful denunciation of schooling and the education system, while Mick Duffield's was a thoughtful treatise on pacifism, violence, war and power. Penny Rimbaud's piece, however, not only was the defining essay of the booklet but a defining statement of Crass. Entitled The Last Of The Hippies - An Hysterical Romance, it was the tale of Phil Russell, alias Wally Hope, personal friend of Penny and founder of the Stonehenge Free Festival whose arrest for possession of drugs propelled him into the depths of a State-sanctioned nightmare leading directly to his death.

Phil Russell was a shamanistic, hippy visionary keenly exploring the counter culture world of the late Sixties/early Seventies. Inspired by early free festivals such as the Windsor Free and Phun City, it was Phil's idea to reclaim Stonehenge and organise a free festival there. Enlisting the aid of Penny and his fellow housemates of that time, the idea was put into action and the first festival took place in the summer of 1974. It was whilst working and preparing for the second festival the following year that Phil was arrested for possession of some tabs of LSD.

From the start, Phil was refused bail and put into prison on remand where through being denied the use of a phone or even pen and paper was isolated from any contact with the outside world. Following an altercation regarding the wearing of prison uniform, Phil was sent to the prison doctor who diagnosed him as being schizophrenic. The drug Largactil (more commonly referred to in those days as 'liquid cosh') was prescribed to him, rendering Phil incapable of dealing with much of anything at all, least of all a defence in a court case.

At court, Phil was sectioned under the Mental Health Act and committed to a mental hospital where the drug Modecate was administered to him. By the time of his release a month later (and coincidentally just after the second Stonehenge festival had taken place), Phil had been reduced (in the words of Penny) to 'an incurable cabbage', unable to even walk properly. After an examination by a private doctor, his condition was diagnosed as 'chronic dyskinesia', a disease caused by overdosing on Modecate and other related drugs.

A few weeks later, Phil overdosed on sleeping pills and choked to death on his own vomit.

By anyone's standards this was a woefully tragic tale open to a variety of interpretations, one being - and the one favoured by Penny - that Phil Russell was murdered. Murdered not by the wilful action of any one individual but by the wilful actions and collusion of a number of individuals collectively representing 'the system'. Phil Russell was murdered by the system.

Following an inquest into Phil's death a verdict of suicide was passed with no real reference to the treatment meted out to him by the police, the prison and the hospital authorities - the treatment that had directly led to his suicide. Being rightfully appalled by the outcome of the coroner's court, Penny launched his own investigation into what had happened from the time of Phil's initial arrest through to his incarceration, his sudden release and up to his untimely death.

Though not one naturally given to seeking out conspiracy theories, a conspiracy was indeed what Penny found along with endless lies, deceit, corruption, fear and tales of cruelty. Perhaps what shattered Penny the most, however, was the conspiracy of silence and the refusal of those in a position of being able to help and advise to do anything but.

According to Penny, this silence was the voice of fascism: 'The voices of silence, at times, made our investigations almost impossible. The respectable majority were too concerned about their own security to want to risk upsetting the authorities by telling us what they knew. They did know and we knew that they knew, but it made no difference - they remained silent.'

Penny came face to face with what he termed the silent, violent majority: 'Against all the evidence, against all that they know, they remain silent because convention decrees that they should. Silence, security, compliance and convention - the roots of fascism. Their silence is their part in the violence. A huge and powerful, silent voice of approval - the voice of fascism.'

For some years previously, Penny had been running his rented home in the Essex countryside as a commune, or 'open house'. A place where people could not so much 'drop out' but 'drop in' to; where 'given their own time and space they could create their own purposes and reasons and, most importantly, their own lives.' A place where 'people could get together to work and live in a creative atmosphere rather than the stifling, inward looking family environments in which we had all been brought up.'

Though blatantly already living the hippy dream, the arrival of Phil Russell at the house introduced Penny fully to 'real' hippy culture and the concept of free festivals. Phil's arrival was to set Penny on a course of no return. Moreover, Phil's death was to have an even greater impact: 'Phil had come along at a time when we were beginning to question the value of what we were doing - was it enough? Our experiences both before and after his death showed us that it wasn't. Phil's death marked, for us, the end of an era. Along with him died the last grain of trust that we, naively, had had in 'the system'; the last seeds of hope that, if we lived a decent life based on respect rather than abuse, our example might be followed by those in authority. We had hoped that through a practical demonstration of peace and love, we would be able to paint the grey world in new colours. The experiences to which our short friendship with Phil led made us realise that it was time to have a re-think about the way in which we should pursue our vision of peace. Phil's death showed us that we could not afford to 'sit by and let it happen again'. In part, his death was our responsibility and although we did everything that we could, it was not enough.'

Phil Russell's instigation of the Stonehenge free festival was a stroke of genius, lighting up a bright, burning beacon of hope that would forever be visible to anyone caring to look as a signpost to a brilliant future and a way to how life could be. Penny's participation in making that dream come true (though he would probably refute the idea) was something to always be proud of. Phil's suicide/murder, however, was the counter-balance to it, casting a shadow over Penny's personal life that he would never be able to cast off. Though even from this tragedy, hope/Hope would be born. Or re-born: 'Desire for change had to be coupled with the desire to work for it. If it was worth opposing the system, it was worth opposing it totally. It was no longer good enough to take what we wanted and to reject he rest, it was time to get back into the streets and attack, to get back and share our experiences and learn from the experiences of others.'

On the other side of the world in June 1974, Patti Smith was entering the Electric Ladyland recording studio in New York City to record her début single Hey Joe / Piss Factory. Hey Joe was in homage to both Jimi Hendrix and gun-toting kidnapped heiress Patty Hearst, whilst Piss Factory was a beautifully inspirational paean to individuality and freedom. This début record was the launch pad to Patti Smith's rock'n'roll-scorched spiritual odyssey, utilising French poet Arthur Rimbaud as a prime motivator. 'Rimbaud', of course, being Penny's future chosen namesake and pseudonym. On a cultural level, this single was to act as a bridge between 'the narcotic fuck-up of the Sixties' and the soon to be realised Punk youthquake of the Seventies.

With the release of the Pistols' Anarchy In The UK the transmogrification of the zeitgeist was set fully in motion, the harsh radiance of it touching and penetrating all corners of society from council estates, suburbs, inner cities and even hippy communes tucked away in the Essex countryside: 'A year after Wally's death, the Pistols released Anarchy In The UK, maybe they didn't really mean it ma'am, but to us it was a battle cry. When Rotten proclaimed that there was 'no future', we saw it as a challenge to our creativity - we knew that there was a future if we were prepared to work for it. It is our world, it is ours and it has been stolen from us. We set out to demand it back, only this time round they didn't call us 'hippies', they called us 'Punks'.'

So this was where Crass were from? An explanation of sorts as to their origin? From experimenting with communal living, the arrival of Phil Russell/Wally Hope and his subsequent death, hippy culture, Stonehenge, mental health, silence as consent, and 'the system'. All formulative experiences paving the way to what would be one of the most important bands ever.

Critics had always chided Crass for being hippies (in Punk clothing) and here was Penny putting his hands up and saying 'Yes', some of them were from that era and 'Yes', some had once believed in the hippy dream. The difference between Crass and most other groups, however, was in the fact that Penny et al were coming from hippydom via an ideological perspective rather than a musical one.

In an effort to wipe out the past with Punk Year Zero revisionism it was actually far easier to hide record collections and old photographs than to hide ethics. As Joe Strummer pointed out: "The day I joined The Clash it was very much back to square one, back to Year Zero. We were almost Stalinist in our approach, all in a frenzied attempt to create something new - which isn't easy at the best of times." One of the memories Joe was shedding was his appearance with his pre-Clash, R&B squat band, The 101'ers at the 1975 Stonehenge festival...

In one of the Sex Pistols' first interviews, Johnny Rotten declared: "I hate hippies and all they stand for." though a year later he was playing some of his favourite records on Capital Radio, which included Neil Young, Peter Hamill and Captain Beefheart - hippy stalwarts all...

Music journalist and first division Punk inner circle member Caroline Coon rebuked Rotten for the tabloid journalism manner in which he was denigrating hippy idealism and warned him that "the gutter press did to hippies what they're going to do to you." She was right. And so too was Penny Rimbaud: "This time round they didn't call us 'hippies', they called us 'Punks'."

Like all other Punk groups, from the start Crass were readily rejecting the now redundant and useless aspects of hippy culture but unlike so many others they weren't denying it as their heritage. Woven into the story of Phil Russell in Last Of The Hippies a direct lineage between different generations and events through the decades was plotted out; from the dawn of consumerism after the Second World War to the birth of CND, rock'n'roll, hippy and Punk. Taking in along the way acid guru Timothy Leary, psycho warlord Charles Manson, Yippy leader Jerry Rubin, the Kent State University shootings, 1960s protest movements, free festivals, anarchism, pacifism, Marxism, Sid Vicious, Garry Bushell, and even Adam Ant.

The implication was clear: Everything is connected and nothing stands alone unto itself. Lines in the sand can be drawn and anything presented in a new light but at the end of the day everything is but a continuation of something else.

All of this contained within the booklet, however (including the story of Phil Russell) was but a vehicle to relay the thoughts and ideas of Crass, particularly concerning the problems of the world and their perceived solutions to those problems. Those solutions being anarchism and pacifism. In all but name, Last Of The Hippies was as close to a manifesto that Crass would ever get:

'We are born free, but almost immediately we are subjected to conditioning in preparation for a life of slavery within the system. We are moulded by our parents, teachers, bosses, etc to conform to what 'they' want from us rather than to our own natural and unique desires. Anarchists believe that those natural desires for peaceful and cooperative lives are denied us because they do not serve the requirements of the ruling classes. Life could and should be a wonderful and exciting experience. Despite what the politicians say, the world is big enough for us all if we could only learn to share it and to respect each other within it. Millions of people are governed by very few; millions of lives of grey slavery simply so those few can enjoy the privileges that are the birthright of us all. Surely, by sheer weight of numbers, we have the strength to take back what is rightfully ours? But do we have the right to use violence to force our demands? The anarchist answer would have to be 'no'.

Armed revolution and violence, particularly as advocated by the extreme Left, are condemned as nothing more than acts of immature, destructive revenge serving only to strengthen the vicious circle of violence that rolls endlessly on:

'Those who advocate armed revolution are seeking to oppress those who they see as 'enemies' in exactly the same way as those 'enemies' oppressed them, the boot is simply on another foot.'

Right-wing violence is claimed to be generally non-political and a reaction against inhuman conditions, whilst Left-wing violence is cited as often being organised and calculated, led usually by educated and privileged people. All States, however, both Left and Right are said to use violence to maintain power.

Pacifism was rejection of all violence, and anarchy was rejection of State control. Pacifism and anarchism went hand in hand, for if anarchists believed they had the right to live their own life then violence shouldn't be used to to deny others theirs. Being pacifist didn't mean being passive. Violence could be opposed. Being pacifist didn't mean being unwilling to defend oneself or others from attack although when this happened it shouldn't be done from a sense of aggression or revenge but from a sense of love. Love being the natural instinct of all people, it was only the circle of violence that distorted and perverted people's basic kindness and goodness. By refusing to be used as tools to other people's desires, strength of love could be demonstrated and the oppression and violence of everyday life be overcome.

'We are able to help create this change immediately in our own lives. We can try to live in harmony with our friends and amongst the people and the environment in which we move. We can try to be creative with the facilities that we and others make. We can learn to reject the stupid roles that we are told to accept; dominant males, submissive females, etc.

We can learn to share and cooperate with each other, to give back to life what we have taken from it. We can learn to understand the natural functions of the world around us; the seasons, the weather, the soil and everything that grows on this planet of ours. We can learn to understand what people, in their unthinking ways, have done to the earth. We can learn to reject the grey filth and shit that we are told is a 'fact of life'. We can demand and create something better.

All these things, and a lot more, we can learn together with those who care and then, as individuals, we can go out into the streets and demand back the world that we know exists beneath the layer upon layer of crap that history has piled upon it - and we can start working towards something better. It's up to us, as individuals, together, to subvert the system that perverts our lives.

We must learn to be unafraid of those in authority - we must strive for what we know is right and rather than simply serving our own greed and selfishness find creative ways to 'break the back of the system'. We must write songs and poetry, make records, magazines, books, films and videos, spray messages in graffiti and attempt to gain access to all forms of media so that our voice can be heard. We must, however, be prepared to back up our words with actions.'

Although unwilling to exactly advocate direct action as a form of protest, the need for it is suggested though only when success is certain and only by those who feel ready and confident.

'In America, anarcho-pacifists broke into an airbase and smashed up part of a nuclear missile; in France, they fired rockets at an unoccupied nuclear power station; in Britain, they built barriers across a railway line to prevent the transportation of nuclear waste.

Other people jam up the locks of banks and offices with super-glue, or cut down fences around government installations. Others sabotage operations at work, from redirecting traffic on building sites, to distributing goods through the back door of factories and shops. Everyone has their own way and their own ideas about what to do and anything that anyone does do further erodes the power that the authorities believe they have over us.

At the same time as more 'extreme' activities, there are things that we can do within the existing social structures that will further weaken those structures as well as directly helping each other.

We can open up squats and, from them, start information services for those who want to do the same, or we can form housing co-ops and communes to share the responsibility of renting or even buying a property. In places where we already live, we can open the doors to others, form tenant associations with neighbours and demand and create better conditions and facilities in the area. We can form gardening groups that squat and farm disused land or rent allotments where we can produce food for ourselves and others that are free from dangerous chemicals and grow medicinal herbs to cure each other's headaches. We can create health groups where we can practice alternative medicine, like herbalism and massage. We can form free schools where knowledge can be shared, rather than rules laid down. We can start community centres where people have an alternative to the male-dominated, money orientated atmosphere of Britain's only nightly social event, the pub. centres could serve and further the interests of the community, rather than simply being there to finance the brewer. We can run food co-ops that buy and distribute foods that have been grown by people that we know, or have been brought from sources who we trust are not exploiting the people who produced it. We can form 'work banks' where we can exchange our individual skills for the skills of others. If enough people are prepared to join a 'bank', money becomes almost redundant.'

'The only limitation is our own imagination. We can overcome the structures that oppress us, but only if we are prepared to work hard to do so. We have the strength, we have the numbers and with the courage of our own convictions, we can regain the right to live our own lives. The non-violent revolution can, and will, be a reality.

The authorities have lost their bargaining power, they no longer have anything to offer in exchange for the sacrifices that they ask us to make, so they're no longer asking us, they're telling us. They're telling us to work for things that we can't afford so that they can run the system that, without us and the money we make and they take, they can't afford. As the system increasingly realises its failure, it strengthens the barriers that exist between 'them' and 'us' with all the authority that it can command, but all the authority that they command is us, so who are 'they'? - we have reached a turning point.'

'Authority does not exist without the value and support that we give it. As long as we, the people, bow down to the system, authority will exist and so will the system. Either we accept that we are to live as mindless robots in a world that is walking the tightrope of nuclear war, where security checks will become a way of life, where the streets are patrolled by tanks and the skies by helicopters, where people no longer dare speak of what they feel and believe for fear of those who might be listening, where love is a memory, peace is a dream and freedom simply does not exist - or we demand our rights, refuse to be a part of the authority that denies them and recognise that the system is nothing but a small handful of ruling elites who are powerless without our support. We have the strength, but do we have the courage?'

'We must learn to live with our own weakness, hatred, prejudice, and to reject theirs. we must learn to live with our own fears, doubts, inadequacies, and to reject theirs. We must learn to live with our own love, passion, desire, and to reject theirs. We must learn to live with our own conscience, awareness, certainty, and to reject theirs. We must learn to live with our own moralities, values, standards, and to reject theirs. We must learn to live with our own principles, ethics, philosophies, and to reject theirs.

Above all we must learn to live with our own strength and learn how to use it against 'them', as they have used it against 'us'. It is our own strength that they have used against us throughout history to maintain their privileged positions. It is up to me, alone, and you, alone, to bite the hand that bleeds us. THERE IS NO FUTURE BUT OUR OWN BECAUSE THERE IS NO AUTHORITY BUT OUR OWN. YOU AND I, WHO LOVE THIS PLANET 'EARTH', ARE ITS RIGHTFUL INHERITORS - IT IS TIME TO STAKE OUR CLAIM.'

Last Of The Hippies was a brilliantly written and extremely well-composed piece of polemic and Christ - The Album was an extraordinary and quite remarkable achievement. For the first time ever, undiluted radical ideology in the form of anarchism and pacifism was being put forward into the mainstream in a totally proud and accessible manner.

Though still very much an 'underground' band, Crass were now in such a position as to be able to stand against and in many ways stand above many other bands who on major record labels were more often than not commanding much higher budgets. Crass had circumnavigated the entire music business, from the music press, the promoters, and the major record companies and without any hype or big sell had successfully carved out their own space.

Artistically, Christ - The Album stood head and shoulders above most other major record label releases of that time and unlike most others, absolutely smacked of care, thought and consideration.

This was Crass at their peak.

Unlike so many other bands, Crass were no fad. Their huge audience had come to them of their own volition. Their ideas and and their politics were being presented and made available as opposed to being packaged and sold. Crass, their ideas and their politics could be taken or they could be left but because of the obvious intelligence and sincerity behind the songs, the images and the words their audience were going for the former. Their audience were choosing to run with the ideas that Crass were espousing and see where they might take them. Crass were continuing to inspire and anarchy and pacifism was now going to be put to the test...