THE
MOB - LET THE TRIBE INCREASE
Taking its name from the
sleevenotes of Patti Smith's Easter album, Let The Tribe Increase
by The Mob stood proudly out from the pack by virtue of its
uncompromising individuality. By choosing their own path, The Mob had
found their own voice which was now ringing out loud and clear for
all to hear. Whilst many of their Anarcho Punk peer group had so
obviously sprung from the well of Crass, The Mob were coming from
somewhere altogether different. Theirs was a natural, earthy sound
born from the Somerset countryside and transplanted to the inner city
estates of London. Having travelled with hippy stalwarts Here And Now
playing various free festivals and benefit or donation-only gigs,
they had picked up and acquired a certain vibe where the important
thing was not the music or the money but the audience - the actual
community. The Mob were a genuine people's band. Driven by prominent
bass and perfect, practical drumming augmented by rudimentary guitar
and soaring backing vocals, the voice of lead singer Mark Mob -
clear, precise and sure - called out to the world at large.
Inscriptions on the
run-out grooves of the album - 'Take a trip down' and
'Electric turkeyland' - alluded to the band's penchant for
drugs, particularly of the hallucinogenic variety though within the
songs themselves there was absolutely nothing illusory or escapist in
the slightest. In fact, living on the breadline in squats in the East
End of London placed The Mob and their friends firmly at the bottom -
if not actually outside - of society where they would face on a daily
basis the hardships and dangers of inner city life.
In such a position there
was nothing the politics of Thatcherism of all things could possibly
offer them apart from a prejudice and selfishness based on cold
economics. Indeed, The Mob and their friends were a good example of
the Lumpenproletariat that Bakunin had cited as being the true
revolutionaries within society. The desperately poor. Those with no
stake in society and therefore nothing to lose.
Laying out a distinct
world view immediately and to mightily good effect, the opening track
of the album found Mark Mob waking up to Another Day Another Death:
"I wake up screaming from the nightmare that's begun again,
cold tears of sweat trickling down my face..." For Mark
there is no escape and no hiatus from "the cold and frigid
wind that blows through every crack." In the jaws of
bleakness - like Bakunin's potential for revolution - any hint of
hope or beauty is grabbed at and held fast: "I'm reaching out
again clutching flowers thrown in the breeze, they are quite
meaningless and yet they mean so much to me." All too aware
of the pain of everyday living, his voice shaking, all Mark really
wants is the answer to one very simple question: "Why?"
In Cry Of The Morning,
Mark describes the looming presence of an authoritarian 'other',
signalled by "the wail of the siren." The
omnipotence of this unnamed power offers no chance of escape,
redemption or mercy as like an animal caught in the headlights of an
oncoming vehicle, Mark's fate is no longer in his hands. There is
simply no time for anything. Not love, not hate, not tears, fear,
running away or goodbyes. Nor "if they come in the morning"
is there even any time to fight back. Resistance is futile.
In Dance On (You Fool),
the bass groove of Frankie Goes To Hollywood's Two Tribes is
pre-empted, as the subject of violence found "in the pubs and
streets" is equated with "impotent lovers."
Inadequacy and hate "bred from the cradle and reared in the
schools" begets aggressive masculinity. "Above all a
man or above all a fool, which are you?" Mark asks "Above
all a man or above all you, which are you?"
Raised In A Prison
relaxes the pace to a contemplative stroll as a captive life is
described in sad detail: "Raised in a prison with iron bars
and walls too high to be climbed. Raised in a four-cornered corridor,
always kept silent and blind." Conformity, obedience and
good manners are taught from a young age before being thrown into the
world of work and then entering the sanctimony of marriage.
Sterility, boredom and repetition are the rewards with possibly "a
garden and wonderful view of kids playing war in the streets after
school." Living prescribed roles of home-maker wife and
breadwinner husband, the happy couple are trapped in a thankless
existence, one of the few 'benefits' being that they are at least
safe from harm: "Watching the TV til hubby comes home, unable
to stand on his feet. Black and white pictures of policemen with
sticks smacking fuck out of kids on the street."
The unacknowledged
quirkiness of The Mob is shown to good effect in the track Slayed,
where a Mark E Smith of The Fall influence is suggested in the way
the ends of words are accentuated. To a driving bass and chopping
guitar, the song finds Mark Mob searching through what he refers to
as 'the desert of his soul'. Surveying an outer landscape of
bureaucratic piles of waste, putrid smell and concrete towers he sees
hope only in the children who are playfully "destroying all
your sacred cows." He sees that adults are a lost cause and
the hope of a better world might only lie in the hands of children:
"In these wars that you have made, through the shit you now
must wade. You were the slayer - you're now the slayed." The
juxtaposition of Mark's baritone and the softer backing vocal is put
to beautiful effect in the final refrain of "You were the
slayer," with Mark declaring it as a statement of fact
whilst the backing vocal almost whispering it as an accusation.
Side one of the album
ends with a mini-epic in the form of the track Our Life Our World, in
which Mark paints a primitive picture of the world as he sees it:
"Our life, our world mapped out in stars, carved in wrists
and back of arms which paint in blood on sheets of white. Our
children never quite at home." It seems that once again the
world of adults holds nothing for its children who turn their pain
upon themselves in acts of self harm. In the prime of their infancy -
their "golden age" - no-one cares to listen to
their cries of rage.
Midway through, the song
lurches into a slow, three-chord soliloquy and Mark's voice turns
fragile and terribly tender: "This is my love now and this is
my war, do not suffer my children... This is my nightmare built from
your hell on earth, do not damage my children."
Unlike most other Anarcho
Crass bands, The Mob weren't offering any real solutions or any calls
for action but instead were simply describing the way they felt and
the way things were. Whilst Crass et al were inspiring through anger
and by putting forward pacifism and direct action as answers, The Mob
were inspiring through simply being very truthful. The Mob were a
lesson in love and tenderness born from anger: "Leave my
world for my children, they didn't ask to be born. Leave my love for
my children, and let them be warm."
Gates Of Hell kicks off
side two of the album and without any delay is a despairing leap into
the void where Mark is found, his body "a bombed-out shell."
To a chiming bass line he once again describes the world in which he
has found himself where "the sun is blacked out by the rain
that keeps on falling as the blood keeps flowing," and where
"the only sound is the toll of your death bells."
There in the most miserable of places, even though there are "no
peace flags flying in the breeze of illusion," such things
to him are still "the lights at the end of the tunnel,"
even if they are but "a mirage in the desert."
Could the world ever be
more sad and more wretched? Of course it could. Within the realm of
popular (and not so popular) music there has always been a tradition
of morose or troubled artists exploring the darker depths of the
human condition. From Leonard Cohen and his tragically sad love songs
to Lou Reed and his Berlin-era meditations, from the elegiac musings
of suicidal Nick Drake to the 1980s world weariness of Joy Division
and The Smiths. Criticised for being 'depressing' their songs were in
actual fact beautifully uplifting, more often than not serving as a
genuine antidote to melancholia.
Joining this select canon
was The Mob whose songs, whilst projecting a profound sense of
sadness, inspired not only hope but a real sense of closeness. A fine
example of this being the track I Wish, in which a broken and
tired-sounding Mark ponders to himself: "I wish I could love,
it must be fun to love cos so many people do it, it must be fun to
love." This same line is then repeated over again, each time
changing the word 'love' to either 'hate', 'fight', and 'kill' before
ending with "I wish I could die, it must be fun to die cos so
many people do it, it must be fun to die."
From an admission of
feeling isolated from the crowd or 'the many', it's at first dubious
that Mark wishes he could love as this is clearly an emotion he
already feels as evidenced in previous songs. Or perhaps he sees the
love that "must be fun" that "so many people
do" is somewhat different to the love he himself feels? If
his love is not 'fun' then is it somehow inadequate or less real or
less worthy than the love of others? The answer is given over the
next lines of the song where Mark wishes he could hate, fight and
kill "cos so many people do it, it must be fun".
This is Mark playing
Devil's advocate as clearly he has no wish to hate, fight or kill at
all; and it follows that to not want to do these things - and in fact
to wish for the complete opposite - is perfectly fine even if it does
mean isolation from the many. In turn, Mark's wish to die really
means the complete opposite also: Mark actually wishes to live.
Taken at face value, I
Wish appears to be a thoroughly depressing song but is in actual fact
clever and very life-affirming. Not withstanding this will to live,
however, there is still the horror of the world to suffer. "I
wanna know why?" Mark declares at the start of the album in
Another Day Another Death but there is no answer, no reason and no
explanation on offer.
In the track Never
Understood, Mark comes face-to-face not only with the inevitability
of the death of others but of his own mortality too: "And as
I fight to find an empty place, the yawning gap amongst the bodies
fits my face. I gave my life for something never understood."
Over and over and over again he repeats the song's title and with no
pause for breath the words obliterate everything else until the song
finally bursts like a bubble leaving only... oblivion.
The next track, entitled
Roger, drifts slowly into being as a lilting nursery rhyme turns
round and round: "Phantom, oh phantom, come out, come out and
I will kiss thee upon thy snout." Evoking memories of
ancient daydreams, voices emerge, cross-over and submerge;
exclaiming, whispering and pronouncing odd phrases such as "I
touched it!", "These are the dreams of children,
they are the children of dreams," and "It's normal!
It's normal!"
Roger conveys the
similarity between a possibly drug-fuelled altered state of mind and
the surrealistic senselessness of formal, regulated society.
Appearing at first to be an experimental, abstract diversion from the
main thrust of the album, the song actually fits in perfectly; adding
another peculiar twist to The Mob's profile.
The album ends on a
massive high with a re-recorded version of Witch Hunt, The Mob's most
powerful of songs. As a stand-alone single release, Witch Hunt was
profound, provocative, uniquely fascinating and utterly brilliant.
Placed within a whole album of Mob songs, however, the words and
their meaning are underscored and puts everything about The Mob into
context, leaving no question over the album's classic status:
"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. Still living with the English
fear - waiting for the witch hunt, dear."
On first hearing, Let The
Tribe Increase was an unexpected experience. Though the music being
played by The Mob was relatively simple, the sound they were
producing was very big and translated well from small, squatted
premises to larger, commercial venues; and from playing to small
groups of friends to playing to much larger festival audiences.
Equally important, the sound translated well to each individual
listener alone in their bedroom. Let The Tribe Increase not only
demanded repeat listenings but welcomed them.
There was a warmth about
Let The Tribe Increase, an intimacy that drew the listener in close
that appeared to come quite naturally, as though it wasn't even being
considered. In all likelihood The Mob were not even aware of it
themselves and had no idea of just how close they were to their
audience.
A few years earlier, Mark
Perry of Alternative TV had recognised that the trail blazed by the
like of Here And Now in their promotion and support of free gigs and
festivals was the way for Punk to go. His own band had gone for this
with varying degrees of success, gaining much respect but losing the
interest of many fans along the way due in no small part to the
somewhat difficult avant-jazz Punk records released by them. In
Crass, Mark Perry saw the way that a Punk band should be though
through no fault of their own Crass's position was changing from
being as one with their Punk audience to being leaders of the Anarcho
Punk movement. An oxymoron if ever there was one.
Because they appeared to
be ahead of everyone else in their analysis, their power and their
actions, Crass were finding themselves in an isolated position not
helped by the fact that they were living out in the Essex countryside
as opposed to being based in the city wrestling with all the problems
which that entailed. Not that Crass were out of touch at all, it was
just that they weren't having to face the grind and hostility of city
life in the same way as for example, The Mob and their friends had to
whilst living in squats and housing co-ops.
Crass and The Mob were
both very much 'people's bands' but with differences between them.
Crass may have had an open-house policy at their countryside home and
they may have been both working and living together communally as
people but The Mob were actually living alongside their audience.
There was no separation. The Mob and their audience were one and the
same.
This was the tribe to
which The Mob's album title referred, the tribe The Mob wished to see
increase. Adam And The Ants in their early days had touched upon a
similar idea also with their 'Ant music for Ant people / Sex music
for Sex people' totems as had in their own way Killing Joke and
Theatre Of Hate. It soon became apparent, however, that it was
commercial success that these groups were after whilst for The Mob
this particular aspiration held no appeal whatsoever. There was the
potential for The Mob to be huge but their concern was obviously for
other things, not least of which was for simply getting on and living
their lives. The music business held no attraction for them in the
slightest and commercial success was clearly not on their agenda. If
they even had any agenda at all?
There was an intangible
air of consciousness about The Mob, captured in as much as could be
possible by their album and to recognise this consciousness demanded
an awareness that reflected well upon their audience. Let The Tribe
Increase suggested an understanding of true meaning. An understanding
of what was important and of what was not, of what was good and right
and of what was bad and wrong.
The Mob were the living
embodiment of the spirit glimpsed at the Stonehenge free festival and
their album was a representation of that spirit. Radical, free and
wild; full of potential yet assailed on all sides by forces of
ignorance. Awareness in a world that not only discouraged awareness
but actively sought to destroy it. The Mob were one of the most
beautifully brilliant bands of the whole 1980s Anarcho Punk Rock era
and Let The Tribe Increase was one of the greatest albums.
What made it all so
doubly remarkable was that whilst their audience recognised how
special The Mob were, The Mob themselves seemed not to know it. All
that was happening was that they were simply being and doing what
came quite naturally to them. In essence, The Mob were simply being
themselves but this was what was ultimately giving them their edge
and making them so very special.
