Tuesday, 14 February 2017

Amebix - Winter

AMEBIX - WINTER

What constitutes a classic band is far easier to define than what actually constitutes a classic record. A band either have 'it' or they don't. 'It' having little to do with the music being played but more to do with possessing an edge and a relevancy if only for a brief moment in time, no matter if that moment comes and goes in a blink of an eye to be followed by a subsequent career of mediocrity. Having touched greatness a band can always hold on to that accolade forever more - or the memory of it, at least. From being 'classic' it is then but a short step to becoming 'legendary'.
Dirt had initially proven themselves to be a classic act when first playing live and had then gone on to produce a classic début single in the form of Object, Refuse, Reject, Abuse. Although their début LP had failed to impress and in the interim they had split up, it was of no real matter because they had by then already attained legendary status.


Another contender for that same title was Amebix whose second single, entitled Winter, was released the following month, again on the Spiderleg label. This time round the Killing Joke influence was even more pronounced than on their début single; with tribal drums, rumbling bass and jagged razor-blade guitar creating a backdrop for the hoarse vocals. Once again, however, it seemed that this latest single was another stab at trying to create something unique of their own but not quite getting there.

Winter was a good mood piece to blast over the heads of the huddled Punk masses but there was no denying that Killing Joke had done it so much better and with so much more power. Not that there was anything wrong in wearing your influences on your sleeve, particularly if they were worn with pride and if they were of such high calibre as Killing Joke. And if nothing else, it also showed what good (or bad) taste you had...

Sunday, 12 February 2017

Dirt - Never Mind Dirt Here's The Bollocks

DIRT -
NEVER MIND DIRT -
HERE'S THE BOLLOCKS

January 1983 saw also the release of the début album from Dirt, entitled Never Mind Dirt - Here's The Bollocks. With its nod to the Sex Pistols in the title, Dirt were reaffirming their allegiance to the tattered and torn flag of Punk. Not for them any denial of history or any musical/cultural progress for the sake of it. Punk was a state of mind rather than a form of music, for sure, but that wasn't to deny how utterly brilliant three-chord Punk Rock rammalama could be. Dirt being fine exponents of the art.


After numerous interviews with various fanzines a bit more was now known about Dirt as in who they were and where they were from. Not surprisingly they were London-based but interestingly two of the members - Fox on drums, Vomit on bass - were brothers and the older, tattooed guy who was always helping with the lighting at their gigs was their father, Leo.
Although Crass fans from days of old, unlike so many other bands who had been sending demo tapes to Crass (for later inclusion on the Bullshit Detector LPs) it was actually Crass who had approached Dirt rather than the other way round, offering them a support slot on an upcoming tour in place of Poison Girls.
Why Crass had chosen Dirt over so many others seemed to be down entirely to just liking them as people, so much so that they were one of the very few bands that Crass broke their label policy of only releasing one record by any one band. Thus, Dirt's début album appeared on Crass Records.

Their début single, the Object, Refuse, Reject, Abuse EP would forever be a superb slab of Anarcho Punk beauty but it was playing live where they had first impacted and it was live where they would always be at their strongest. It made sense then that Dirt might release a live album but to do so as their début just smacked of compromise. Recorded at The New Half Moon in Stepney, London, almost a year earlier, Never Mind Dirt disappointed because it wasn't what it could and should have been.

Dirt excelled at playing basic, tuneful Punk Rock shot through with a shivering, self-possessed fervour. In the studio with Penny Rimbaud their songs had been turned into finely-chisled Punk jewels; suggesting that a whole album crafted in a similar fashion would be sublime. What was actually delivered - though a bargain at 'Pay no more than' £2.00 - was instead a curiously flat affair that failed to do justice to what Dirt were capable of.
With uninteresting samples of inter-group dialogue replacing any audience applause or any acknowledgement of an audience at all, along with studio-recorded overdubs it wasn't really a 'live' recording of a gig at all. At the same time, it wasn't a full studio recording either. It was neither one or the other. It was a compromise.
Even the cover seemed to convey a mixed message with wording around the outside edge stating 'Anarchy as enacted and as demonstrated by Dirt' but the main picture design being of The New Half Moon venue beneath a looming depiction of the Grim Reaper wielding a scythe. On the back of the cover additional wording around the outside edge simply said 'The end. Or is it the beginning?'


So what did it all mean? And why were the titles of the tracks not listed anywhere on the record? And why even the extreme change of name of their drummer from 'Fox' to 'Shit'? It all made a lot more sense when it became known that just prior to the release of the album, Dirt had actually split up, instigated by the departure of drummer Fox under less than happy circumstances at the Zig Zag squat gig. This would also explain the finality of such statements on the cover as 'Thanks to all who shared the experience', implying not just the experience of the gig at The New Half Moon but the experience of the entire 'career' of Dirt.

Apart from this, the maddening thing about Never Mind Dirt was the fact that all the songs on it were really very good. Hi-jacking the John Lennon line "All we're saying is 'Give peace a chance'" and shouting it out Dirt style shouldn't have worked - but it did. So too playing The Animals' House Of The Rising Sun in their own specific manner and changing the words so that it became an anti-war song. It should have been rubbish - but it wasn't. Instead, it was a sing-along though not quite a family one: "Corpses lay scattered like flowers in a field, in the town of Nagasaki. Animals and land destroyed beyond belief, in the town of Nagasaki..."

Dirt were brilliant but it was just a shame the same couldn't be said of their début album...

Tuesday, 7 February 2017

Subhumans - The Day The Country Died

SUBHUMANS -
THE DAY THE COUNTRY DIED

For the Subhumans, an important signifier as to where England was at was the inner city riots of 1981, the subject of which they chose to name their début LP after. Released on the Spiderleg Records label, The Day The Country Died was a welcome return to former glory, picking up from the point at which they had first exploded into existence with their Demolition War EP.


Delivering sixteen songs of churning, spinning, speeding Punk urgency, from beginning to end the album simply bounced with excitement. The album's title came from the song Black And White and though not explicitly mentioning the riots of '81 by name, it was clear what it was that was being referred to: "Enquiries - but no solutions, faceless - empty illusions. Reasons - are always pushed aside, remember - the day the country died."
On the album's cover, a cartoon image of a spiky-haired Punk Rocker being shot through the head - molotov cocktail in hand - is superimposed over images of police, war, mobs, missiles and newspaper front pages boasting riot news headlines. Without overstating it, the summer of '81 was obviously of meaning to the Subhumans.

When listened to over the length of a whole album it was apparent that the Subhumans were continuing to perform the neat trick of avoiding being pinned down and categorised, and it seemed to be all down to Dick Lucas's lyrics. Whilst the music was a turbo-charged flurry of rushing, thrashing guitar, bouncing bass and snapping drums; in amongst the words were politics, wry observation, social comment, humour, and even poetry: "There's a hole in the bottom of the world where the blood pours out at the end of the day. When the usual amount of people have died, sit back and watch the death and decay - it's a dying world."

Whilst being fully immersed in the by now recognisable mores, activities and practises of the Anarcho Punk scene and whilst being quite capable of seriousness when it came to serious subjects, what differentiated the Subhumans from the rest of the Anarcho Punk pack was Dick Lucas's almost cartoon-like sense of humour. Liberally lacing his songs with comic asides and noises, he could also pen whole songs that read like madcap comedies: "Oh what a great experience my house is full of deviants, my Dad is going mad downstairs, my brother has just dyed his hair. We got Punks and drunks and thrills and pills and lots of things to make your head go round. It's fun fun fun fun fun til the pigs come round."


In one of the longest songs on the album, entitled Mickey Mouse Is Dead, the irreverence in his lyrics is highlighted when he turns the Crass peace chant of '1, 2, 3, 4 - we don't want your fucking war' into a more comically stupid chant of "1, 2, 3, 4 - look what you done to Mickey Mouse."
Though the subject matter of many of the songs was quite morose, the saving grace was in the way that Dick sounded as if he was thoroughly enjoying himself. In the face of doom and gloom the Subhumans were having fun, no better conveyed than in the track No More Gigs, in which Dick depicts a depressing scenario for his band: "In a smoke-filled room, 'How's it going then?'. 'It's not going at all, we got no more gigs'." But even here Dick turns depression on its head and makes a celebration of it: "A bottle of gin, a packet of cigs. Sing, brother, sing - we got no more gigs."

Despite being undeniably supportive of Anarcho Punk ideas, right down to having the 'pay no more' demand on their record sleeves, the Subhumans were far less intense about it than most of their Punk peer group. And unlike most of the other bands of the Anarcho persuasion, they only had one real message to impart and a very simple one at that. A single word message as written all over the inner sleeve of their album: 'Think.'