Toronto, ON’s STREETS TO OURSELVES began life as the solo project of Daniel Peachy. Now expanded to a three-piece, they are set to release the follow-up to 2020’s single-hander Suspension Of Disbelief. Crash was “produced by Sam Guaiana (Silverstein, Bearings, Intervals, Between You & Me) and mastered by Mike Kalajian (All Time Low, Neck Deep, Hot Mulligan, New Found Glory).”
If Crash is any indication, this newly expanded project has shifted from Peachy’s more introspective emo to an unabashed pop punk template. That said, throaty bass, crunchy guitars, muscular vocals, and chuff-tight drumming wrestle the polished production to the ground, emerging as a full-throttle ride. Aided by some unexpected guitar twists – check out that metally soloing at the end – the whole thing feels meaty, achieving something the genre rarely manages these days; it leaves you wanting more.
The video fits the goofy brief, showing the band being all daft ‘n stuff. I was, probably unhealthily, endeared to it when I spotted an EVERY TIME I DIE wall hanging behind the drum kit, but whatever, after a little jaded eye-rolling, I was completely won over by Crash‘s hooky, pop-punk heft.
London-based BIG HUG’s crisp follow-up to last years Don’t Threaten Me With A Good Time sees them fully embracing their indie-rock/emo sensibilities.
The contrast between this and their debut can be detected as soon as the warm, trickling atmospherics of instrumental Pyrrhic Opposites flow into Cruellemonde De La Hi Fi. Maintaining an inner vibrancy, spiralling guitar floats atop off-beats on a patient piece of rising-and-falling moodiness. The relaxed, jazzy signatures of Nothing Changes are bolstered by guitar intricacy and an introspective vibe, the twitchy denouement as angsty as it gets. Gary On Earth‘s gentle guitar spirals and bass noodling flow like water through an airy slice of cerebral, indie rock. The vocals walk a line between muscular and delicate throughout, building on the James Dean Emo Bradfield tones evident on their debut.
Thoughtful, relaxed, seemingly invigorated by a sense of hitting their stride, these four sparkling new tunes take time to worm their way into your brain, smuggling in the occasional jagged shard. Food for the head and the heart, lovers of 90s indie rock and emo of theJade Treevariety will melt.
inspired by guitarist Dickie Allen’s most recent struggle with blood clots. Named after the Sheffield hospital ward where Allen recovered, the track delves into the emotional aftermath, touching on themes of survivor’s guilt and the fear of mortality. Recorded at Nave Studio in Leeds with producer Andy Hawkins, “Hadfield 5” captures the raw essence of Allen’s experience. The lyrics, including the line “my lungs won’t fill up till I drink the poison,” provide a stark reference to the medication used in treating blood clots – often also found in rat poison.
from promo
Veritably dripping with hospital-induced anxiety, Sheffield’s BE FAIR pull off a vein-bulging, gun-to-the-head performance of passion and punk rock fortitude, with a killer hook to drag you in. There are some delicate guitar lines and more measured vocals during the brief bridge, but on the whole, Hadfield 5 oozes ragged desperation. OFF WITH THEIR HEADSReinventing Axl Rose in Steel City. A fucking cracker.
Bands and labels: for a more in-depth review, get ’em in early. Like, weeks/months before release. Otherwise, they get lost in the morass or a brief write-up. Here’s a few of the latter.
THE VAXXINES – California Screamin’ EP (CDC Records)
Oakland, CA’s THE PATHOGENS included the prodigious TILT vocalist Cinder Block in their ranks, as well as Jesse Luscious (GRUPS, BLATZ, CRIMINALS). When THE PATHOGENS splintered, shedding Cinder and Jesse, the remaining members (including ECONOCHRIST‘s drummer Markley) recruited a new singer and bassist. Enter THE VAXXINES.
Given that singer KC’s strident vocals bear a striking resemblance to Cinder’s, it’s no surprise that THE VAXXINES sound much like TILT – with a side order of ADOLESCENTS – peddling a similar line in tuneful rabble-rousing. The title track may begin with a hint of gothic drama, but make no mistake, we’re in American punk anthem territory, with enunciated male/female vocals, adrenalised pacing, and plenty of crunch. Four tight, crisp songs in all, with enough variation to keep it fresh. From the vibrant Poison Kiss‘s nifty rock ‘n roll guitar licks, the classic TILT sound of Whiskey Business (written by THE PATHOGENS), and the old school punch of Rock ‘n Roll Catastrophe, this is genuinely refreshing.
Forming during lockdown and “based on the sunny west coast of Australia, Covøids are made up of veterans from the WA punk scene – vocalist Benny J Ward (Leeches!, Screwtop Detonators), guitarist Mike Wafer (Love Camp 7, Order Of The Black Werewolf), bassist Shane Rosher (The Critics, Change Of Face), and drummer Nathan Sproule (Chainsaw Hookers, Ratking)”
COVØIDS describe their music as ‘hardcore 101’, and their live set lasts around 15 minutes, which tells you all you need to know. DEAD KENNEDYS guitar lines flit through Plan B and the surprisingly melodic Just Say No, shades of a DamagedBLACK FLAG haunting the aggressive hurly-burly of Hated and Repetition‘s revved guitars. They’re at their juiciest though on the fastcore of Seek Find and Fade Away, the latter a ruthlessly tight, 35-second distillation of hardcore punk purity. Despite a slight breather with the rock ‘n roll revs of If You Insist, …Plan B is otherwise short, fast, and loud with hooks aplenty. Eight songs in as many minutes. Think CIRCLE JERKS or KILL YOUR IDOLS with a modern, punchy production and a little swagger. Crucial.
This isn’t rocket science… it’s just four guys playing music they love, speaking the truth, and connecting with hardcore fans around the world in the process. It really is as simple as that.
SMALL STEPS – Breakthroughs/Breakdowns LP (Blind Rage Records)
Lexington, KY’s SMALL STEPS feature ex-members of TREASON (New Age Records), THE REDEMPTION SONG! (Strike First/Facedown Records) among others. Breakthroughs/Breakdowns is their follow-up to 2022’s eponymous debut EP.
The guitar sound on this impressive eight-tracker is colossal. Careering between the SKIDS/SLF engine of opener One Man Wolf Pack, gritty LEATHERFACE melody on Three Button Sweater, and HUSKER DÜ distortion on Means To An End, one things for sure; these guys are masters of the punk rock chug. For the most part, the vocals are clean, at times taking on a casual, conversational tone, though the grittier vocals on Skip This Song only serve to enhance this flannel-shirted, beers-in-the-air, Fest anthem. With some stinging lyrics aimed at snooty scenesters, it’s a bittersweet treat, so don’t skip it. They throw in some woah, ohs on Mouse Trap and the incredible finale of Falling Down, those more abrasive vocals providing back-ups, and Rome Is Where The Heart Is brings all their influences to bear in one beast of a song. Tough, but with heart.
With one of the juiciest guitar sounds around working in stark contrast with some moreishly vulnerable vocals, think an overdriven MOVING TARGETS, or a less sugary SAVES THE DAY. A solid grower.
AUTOGRAMM – Music That Humans Can Play LP (Stomp Records)
Autogramm’s members are drawn from Seattle, Chicago, and Vancouver and Music That Humans Can Play is their third full-length LP. Featuring in their ranks one Lars Von Seattle, “legendary guitarist of Sub Pop’s late 90s-early 00s teenage heartthrobs, THE CATHETERS, Lars rekindled his long-standing friendship with the members of Autogramm during a 2018 co-headlining tour with his other band, Seattle’s BREAD AND BUTTER”.
I’m in danger of losing my punk rock orthodoxy card with this one, but 1978/79 has a special place in my heart, which is where much of this takes me. From the authentic THE CARS power-pop of synth-soaked opener Born Losers, it’s obvious AUTOGRAMM are the real deal. The grindingly catchy WannaBe, all dirgy guitars and humming synths, plugs into GARY NUMAN before sliding into some CURE-like post-punk guitar action. There’s a trio of surefire radio hits: Hey Allie elevates nostalgic high school pop with a cute soaking of synth, the summertime treat of Love Is For Fools has a genuine sense of innocence, and authenticity abounds on the power-pop rock of Yesterday. Proceedings get a little edgier when Why Do We Dance whips its way to a herky-jerky, synth-dance epic a la DEVO, before Plastic Punks dreams of SIGUE SIGUE SPUTNIK as spunky ’77 punks. Twitchy pacing, spindly guitars, cheap laser sound effects, and none of the pretensions, Plastic Punks is a sub-two minute, digi-pogo treat. As dirty as this album gets, Westbound is a bombastic slice of anthemic synth-grunge, but the moment I really fell in love was with Always Gonna Be My Girl. Mining the 60s for its melodies, it opens like, of all things, a KILLERS Christmas song, emerging as a wide-eyed slice of melancholic nostalgia, sharing similarities with BOBBY EDGE‘s delightful Algorithm And Blues (2023). The album closes with the insistent Dive Right In, a perfectly fine mix of late 70’s radio rock with 80s synth-pop.
The unabashed nature of the stylistic roads explored by AEROGRAMM surely fed into their creative freedom, giving the band free reign to produce this timeless collection of hits. A masterclass in melding classic song-writing with nostalgic cherry-picking amid fresh vibes. Perfect.
FREE SERGIO – The Nail In The Coffee LP (High End Denim Records)
Tel Aviv’s FREE SERGIO have been around since 2008, teaming up with High End Denim Records to release their sophomore album.
With sixteen songs, varying in length from 14 seconds to 2:28, you’ll barely notice the ska, such is the attention deficit nature of this album. For the most part, it’s fast ‘n tight, hardcore-tinged, skate punk – evinced by opener Unbearable Place – that careers around the decades for inspiration. There’s rough-edged, poppy hardcore, a la GOOD RIDDANCE, (Can’t Break Love), the woah, ohs and gang shouts of OutCasts, the fast, anthemic punk – via a DK’s guitar riff – of I Give Black Cats Bad Luck, and the catchy, SCREECHING WEASEL chugging of I’m Weird. At least two of these songs could have been on Fat Wreck Chords‘ Short Songs For Short People (T-T-T-Tell Your Friends To Leave Me Alone and Shitty Little City), but they’re at their best when bashing out short, fast hardcore (40 Seconds To Hell and TLVictim), the latter conjuring the spirit of underrated Leeds band FIG. 4.0. Only a couple of songs breach two minutes: the surprisingly heartfelt Love Song and the chaotic, um, Chaotic, wherein they throw in a cheeky NOFX intro, a little ska, and some good ol’ noodly bass. They even sing a song in Hebrew. A cheeky, fun album chock full of tricks and treats.
Manic, garage punk with hoarse, garbled vocals. A simple, catchy riff and a powerhouse production finish off the latest from a souped-up, punchy BRUISE CONTROL. On fucking fire.
…and show us someone, in this day and age, who couldn’t relate to the idea of bellowing “No More!” over and over again until their eyes bled and we’ll show you a smug Tory with a shrivelled heart.
…though we never became a well-known band outside certain small circles, that part of our life is something so precious that I could never imagine living without the experience. These things are unforgettable for all of us. These ecstatic moments of connection between musicians and audience. That feeling of being young and invincible, of being able to accomplish everything you want.
That most people outside of a small corner of the international DIY punk scene will not have heard of Späth’s bands, isn’t the point of This Is My Everything. This is a book about an all-encompassing drive to create, to connect, and the unique thrills that playing in a DIY band can offer. Such a memoir will stand or fall on the author’s ability to render the attendant emotions relatable, experienced or not.
Born in Germany in 1979, Späth was fifteen when he saw GREEN DAY‘s Basket Case video on MTV, igniting a lifelong love affair with punk rock. His first musical efforts scuppered by Christian fundamentalists, he discovered the DIY scene with his first band proper (MINDS OF CONFUSION), though attending an intimate show by straight edgers BATTERY proved pivotal. A name change to TIDAL and support slots with INK AND DAGGER, AGAINST ME!, SNAPCASE, and an arrogant REFUSED followed, the band a seemingly perfect fit for the flourishing screamo scene. Immersing themselves in all things Ebullition, Gern Blandsten, Three One G, and Dischord, they hook up with Kent McClard (Ebullition, HeartattaCk zine) – including the origin of the term rage against the machine – record and release music, develop a penchant for musical experimentation, and head off on tour. The latter provides many a story: Ray Cappo emptying the meagre contents of his wallet following a blagged SHELTER gig, a hellish, nocturnal tale of being lost – and tripping – in an Amsterdam park, horrendous snowstorms, and internecine band battles about veganism and straight edge. The author’s reflections on their Uruguayan pals HABLAN POR LA ESPALDA’s brush with ‘political correctness’ are at least refreshing in their honesty: during one particular gig, HPLE’s singer – possessed of a penchant for Iggy-style showmanship – stripped naked, cavorting among the audience, paused to lick a female crowd member’s cheek. Citing a lack of “humour, irony or artistic freedom”, Späth compares the unimpressed crowd’s protestations to the equally erroneous ‘cancel culture’ of today. While I agree that progress can be a bumpy road, humour, irony, or artistic freedom have never been a license to uninvitedly waggle your dick around. Or lick someone’s face. This wasn’t the 1970s. The DIY punk scene of the time already had a long history of calling shit out, so sure, get your dick out to express your artistic freedom, if that’s your thing, but don’t be all offended when people rip it off. Metaphorically, of course.
Nothing lasts forever, especially something this intense.
Equally thought-provoking are the author’s musings on the scene itself. Despite having a deep affinity, TIDAL’s experimentalism (“we were adding in krautrock, prog and Latin influences”) led to a perceived lack of acceptance within DIY punk. There is some understandable criticism: restrictions and rigid definitions of punk, along with other outside forces, all ultimately fed into TIDAL’s splintering. The new horizons that followed: the garage rock ‘n roll of JIGSAW JACKSON, the Cuba-inspired acoustics of BELVES, a move to Mallorca prompting the formation of SA CAUSA and, more latterly, ABERMALS, bring us full circle, with a release on David Gamage’s Engineer Records and the publishing of this book. These later tales are brief yet satisfying, walking hand in hand with a sense of growth, travel, moving country, and unexpected hook-ups.
Christian Späth
Späth has performed a nifty trick with This Is My Everything. At a scant 180 pages, his is an economical prose, yet one which conveys time-stamped emotions with relatable clarity. Whether describing a shared sense of synchronization, catching the travel bug, or band disintegration, the relative obscurity of these characters isn’t the point. This is an open, honest book about balancing hindsight with youthful instinct and the complexities of playing in a band through the watchful lens of the DIY punk scene.
…we had never felt anything this powerful before. When we played, we were the centre of the world, right in the eye of the storm. It was the true human experience. It was our everything.
The animal names given to the tracks correspond to ethological comparisons. I wanted to confront human and animal behavior through subjects that touch me, others that scratch, by means of observation and sometimes self-criticism. In any case, I don’t claim to have an informed opinion on society or politics. After all, I have no political leanings whatsoever, and absolutely reject all extreme character.
Vincent, vocalist and songwriter
I’m always a little non-plussed by declarations of apoliticism. Politics is intrinsically linked to every aspect of existence, so total abstention from any ‘political leanings whatsoever’ seems a little naive. That said, I do appreciate the thoughtful approach to the animal/human theme running through this EP.
Following 2019’s five-track Urban Zoology, Paris’s SOMETHING ANIMAL haven’t changed the formula too much – technical metalcore with screamed vocals – though they sound so much more muscular on this, the first in a themed “triptych that promises to gradually broaden the facets that forge the Something Animal sound.”
Bestial Curse Part 1 may have the primal cunning of EVERY TIME I DIE wrapped up in its THE DILLINGER ESCAPE PLAN chaos, but it doesn’t have their hooks, so you won’t be whistling along to these five crushers. See the tumultuous riffs and off-beats of Rats for proof, though even the throat-shredding vocals are unable to mask tickles of melody. Hyena‘s punchy mosh section, vocals that manage to be gutteral even when screaming, and statesman-like metal riffs top off an adrenalized slice of brutality. Dove‘s vocals are more versatile, at times taking on a subtle nu-metal feel, shards of guitar jutting into the atmospherics. The screaming catharsis of Birds slays all-comers with monstrous riff slabs and primal moshing, while L.I.O.N. goes longer and heavier. Screams attempt to bludgeon its technicality into submission, leaving rhythm chugs to bolster slashes of lead guitar.
SOMETHING ANIMAL inject their primal cacophony with an animal cunning that is at once strangely euphoric, yet satisfyingly cathartic. Striking stuff, with a cool concept.
I have a soft spot for Luke and Owen’s Big Egg Records and SMR radio show, not least because their taste in punk is as wildly varied as it’s possible to get. Last year’s loving tribute to the cover-mounted compilations of yore, A Recipe For Disaster Vol 1, was a sterling effort, but with Name Three Songs, they take a riskier route: Live ‘radio’ sessions by six bands, three tracks each, recorded, filmed and collected onto digital and CD.
Assuming this is a live soundboard recording, it’s fair to say that most of the bands suffer – to varying degrees – with an upfront vocal mix. Luke and Owen’s acts (THE WOODSMAN and NO MURDER NO MOUSTACHE respectively) both appear, and it’s up to the former’s bass-less trio to open proceedings with three songs from September’s Disgraceland. Clearly, the band found their groove on this album, so hearing just how down ‘n dirty Luke’s guitar gets on Abducted is a scuzzy treat, Lie Now, Pay Later is a masterclass in bass redundancy, and the towering swagger of Guns Akimbo is flat-out filthy. The neat SYSTEM RESET pepper their razor-edged, melodic punk with agit-aggro and angsty angularity. From Accomplishing Zero‘s pounding discordance, Epidemic‘s propulsion, and the grown-up banger of Failsafe, all are infused with progressive zeal, buzzing guitar lines, and a mike-swallowing vocalist. Equally fresh to these ears, UPB offer up a curiously mixed bag: Stark guitar lines cut through Pirates‘ shambolic, political reggae, the FOUR LETTER WORD-y guitar tones of Socials is marred by some out-of-tune vocals, and chunky, Pistolian guitars elevate the sloppy, street punk anthem Who’s Got Your Back. Gloriously messy stuff. SIMPLE AS’s brand of rocky, grunge punk is sharp and compelling, shining brightest on the CULT-esque Fabrication, though they struggle with that vocal mix on occasion. Incidentally, they take best song title in Friends, Enemies And Those Under Review, THE WOODSMAN’s Guns Akimbo a close second.
The one-man army that is NO MURDER NO MOUSTACHE offers up rollicking folk-punk on Six Pints Of Guinness, the annoyingly catchy party-ska of Throw Your Fucking Flags In The Bin, complete with out-of-tune guitar solo and rib-tickling lyrics (“I hope your tiny, sunburnt penis falls off“), before rounding out with the stark warning of 2031, a downbeat acoustic ballad about the closing down of independent venues. Finally, CALLING ALL STATIONS bash out their chunky, meat ‘n potatoes punk with an impressive lack of finesse and, despite some occasionally strained vocals, they do bring the anthems.
Despite its flaws – not all DIY punk units are ready for such a stark recording – I like this ballsy concept. A varied, shambolic snapshot of current South Wales punk, Name Three Songs is great fun, and at two quid for 18 tracks, the CD is a steal.
CD available now, digital tracks and YouTube footage trickling out over the next few weeks. At time of writing, THE WOODSMAN and SYSTEM RESET are already up.
*Header photo: CALLING ALL STATIONS, radio session at McCann’s in Newport.
As the mid-80s approached, the UK punk scene cast off all remaining commercial aspirations and headed underground. Egged on by the rock ‘n roll trash of THE CRAMPS and the emergence of South London’s THE METEORS, an unruly off-shoot rushed into the resulting vacuum. Earthy, working class, apolitical – Oi!’s bass-slapping little brother, if you will – Psychobilly imbued fifties rockabilly with punk speed, its fashion sense borrowed from punks, skins, and teds. My own dalliance was suitably short-lived: briefly drawn to a mix of horror/B-movie imagery and hedonistic punk energy, I was eventually worn down by its macho posturing and aforementioned lack of political nouse. That said, I was keen to read from the perspective of someone quiff-deep: enter Paul Wainwright, who found himself in the eye of the storm, notebook in hand to document the demented madness for his fanzine, The Crazed.
Craig ‘Bracko’ Brackenridge (Vintage Rock magazine) proffers a forward before we’re up and running with the author’s origin story. Inspired by some daffy correspondence with KING KURT, Wainwright built his ‘zine amid friends forming bands, getting into scrapes, and peacocking quiffs. That nascent effort featured questionnaires – bands were initially wary of face-to-face interviews – from WIGSVILLE SPLIFFS, THE COFFIN NAILS, THE OUTER LIMITS, THE GO-KATZ, THE PHARAOHS, LONG TALL TEXANS, TORMENT, and Nervous Records. Once the first issue hit the streets, word spread, and he found himself interviewing a surly P. Paul Feneche (THE METEORS). By its fourth and final issue, both zine and scene were running on fumes, though during its short run the band’s featured reads like a who’s who: THE CARAVANS, GUANA BATZ, SKITZO, THE TERMINAL CLUB, GET SMART, RESTLESS, SHARK BAIT, DEMENTED ARE GO, FRENZY, THE QUAKES a guarded KREWMEN vocalist, and a cracker with Baz Boorer of THE POLECATS & MORRISSEY fame.
Despite the youthful frisson of those early fanzines, interviews undertaken during the compiling of the book are the real treasure. The participants are older and, mostly, wiser so these chats are way more engaging. Woodie Taylor’s fascinating story of joining original Croydon punk band THE DALEKS, going from METEORS fan to band member, and his time in the original TALL BOYS, photographer, writer and COFFIN NAILS’ drummer Nick Kemp talks about cross-pollination (psychobilly and death metal anyone?), an enthusiastic chat with Dave Diamond, promoter, record collector and member of THE BLOODSTAINS, as well as catch-ups with THE PHARAOH’s Glenn Daeche, TORMENT’s Simon Crowfoot, young Psychobilly krew RED HOT RIOT, THE DEFIANT ONES, and RESTLESS.
Though no music scene truly dies, it’s interesting to ponder just how short-lived the 80s Psychobilly scene was. The closure of its nexus – Hammersmith’s Klub Foot – really did spell the beginning of the end, evidence of the scene’s shaky foundations, in the UK at least. Even the final issue of The Crazed was compiled in an atmosphere of impending collapse. A possible clue to its ephemeral nature can be spotted in a common thread running through those early interviews: most of the bands seemed ill at ease with the ‘Psychobilly’ tag, and bemoaned, rather than celebrated, the lack of mainstream music industry attention.
Paul Wainwright
The book looks great, thanks to some eye-popping cover art from renowned French artist Paskal Millet. The original fanzine covers are reprinted, along with photos, flyers, and ticket stubs, and Paul intersperses the reprints with contextual comments, even digging out some originally unpublished material. A fittingly breezy read, The Resurrection Of The Crazed enthusiastically captures a scene that shied away from politics and wallowed in trashy, B-movie aesthetics, dragging fifties rockabilly through a testosterone-fuelled teenage rampage.
Published on 7th December 2023 in paperback. 260 pages.
Formed in late 2019, four best friends CarlElliot (Bass), Dickie Allen (Guitars & Vocals), Dave Pearson (Drums) and Phil Stevenson (Guitars&Vocals) use Be Fair as a vehicle to channel life’s trials, relationships and often tumultuous battles with mental and physical health into something visceral & raw, tinged with the optimism and hope.
from band bio
More polished than the ragged desperation of previous releases, Montreal Screwjob is a full-throated, emotional punk anthem laced with HOT WATER MUSIC hooks, solid, powerhouse musicianship and a thumping production. This Sheffield gang care enough to splice in the traditional gentle guitar bridge, building it to an emotional rock-out, clean vocals giving way to a more raspy concern for the fist-waving chorus. I appreciate the lyrical conceit of a love song based on the hard yards fought in a long-term relationship, too.
So yeah, it’s a banger. The first in a series of singles to no doubt be released in painfully slow fashion, which seems to be the way of things.
It’s an unapologetic and mature love song for those who’ve weathered the storms of life together, long after the initial teenage infatuation has worn off. It deals with the genuine unfiltered emotions of loving someone with your whole heart despite the harsh realities of living together day after day, year after year.
A lyric or musical hook can worm its way into your subconscious and nestle there as a constant companion to help guide you through turbulent times, and by virtue of their steadfast consistency – they’ve rarely put a foot wrong in either the studio or the live arena – Subhumans have no doubt provided that spark of inspiration and reassurance, when courage and conviction are desperately needed, for thousands of people around the world…
Ian Glasper
When SUBHUMANS‘ first EP appeared in my local record shop in 1981, it ticked the boxes my awestruck teenage eyes and ears needed: striking, rudimentary sleeve art, political lyrics, and a potent mix of irreverent snot with anarcho earnestness. I played it inside out, following the band’s releases up to the mid-eighties. When their last album (Worlds Apart) came out, they’d already slipped from my radar and had split by the time I picked up the last gasp of 20:29 Split Vision. I never saw them live at that time, though I did catch them in Lincoln, post-reformation, sometime around the millennium. While I may have paid less attention in the years that followed, all of their 80s records are peerless and it’s pleasing to see them join a small group of early punk bands who remain relevant in reformation, releasing vital new material.
Formed in 1980, Wiltshire’s SUBHUMANS peddled an uncommon line in politically charged, progressive, spiky teen anthems. Rising quickly to the upper echelons of the UK punk scene, they fizzled out in 1985, only to return in ’98, a going concern ever since. For a band not known to the majority of the general public, their influence is both substantial and a moving beast. Close to Ian Glasper‘s heart – he is an über-fan whose first band supported them, and who released a SUBHUMANS covers album – writing this story is a gift, not least because vocalist Dick documented everything and its dog throughout the band’s journey. For his part, Glasper has tracked down and interviewed virtually every character to enter their orbit, though he receives a stern admonishment for missing the guy who swept the studio floor. Writing about a single band gives the author space to inject more of his personality across this 640-page monster, but his modus operandi remains the same: let the band – and others – tell the tale.
straddling scenes
EP/LP released 1985
With their roots buried deep in the Wiltshire punk scene of the late 70s, band members discuss their beginnings, uncovering a typically incestuous local scene: PAGANS, A-HEADS, ORGANISED CHAOS, VERMIN, Dick’s first band THE MENTAL, his brother Steve’s band WILD YOUTH and, of course, STUPID HUMANS. From there, a multitude of contributors – and there are a lot – take advantage of the free reign they are given, spanning off in an equally dizzying array of directions. Successfully straddling traditional punk and anarcho scenes – though clearly more well-known for the latter – it’s striking just how young SUBHUMANS were when they started packing out venues, getting a record deal, and touring America, DIY style. The anarcho connections will be the most interesting to the majority of readers, though the band see themselves as an old-school punk band with a sense of humour (“as much TOY DOLLS as CRASS“). Either way, this stuff is a gift for the anarcho-interested: The early demos and gigs, connections to FLUX and Spiderleg Records – including the origins of the label via Derek and Colin – playing with DISCHARGE (“we were shitting ourselves“), THE MOB, and RUDIMENTARY PENI (“they came straight from school in their uniforms“). Every release is given the once-over by the author, with detailed discussions from band members. There are some fascinating windows into that long-ago world too: tensions with FLUX’s Derek during recording, insights from Small Wonder Records‘ Pete Stennett, Rob Challice (ANTHRAX/FACTION/96 Tapes), Dick’s lyrical regrets, and Winston Smith on their Sounds features. A strong sense of this youthful band growing across the years bleeds through the pages. It’s fascinating, for example, to hear Dick talk in the present day about the song British Disease (about the 1981 Brixton riots), racism in the police, and how he sees progress made in the Nineties slipping away, citing Brexit as the start of the rot. Equally valuable are Dick’s thoughtful discussions on the importance of holding to his principles versus the reality of living in a capitalist world and band reflections on the original split.
As regards the spiritual side of religion, I think everyone has got that anyway, but to put the source of spirituality up in the heavens, with one god or another, seems to be shirking your own realisation of your potential as a human being, and the power of the human brain, to be spiritual, ie. kind, caring, and nice to things. And appreciative of nature. Nature is the closest thing to the concept of god that I can think of – that’s where it all came from…
Dick on ‘Religious Wars’
mickey mouse is dead
Crisis Point album (2019)
Since reforming in 1998, SUBHUMANS have been active for 25 years, longer than their initial period. Much of that time has been spent forging ties across the pond, so it’s no surprise that their relationship to the US is awarded heaps of coverage. The band are huge there, most notably in Southern California, highlighted by a heart-warming story of Dick refusing to play until some kids who’d driven for hours to a sold-out show were let in, and similarly, Jock (A-HEADS) describes the police shutting down a whole area of Pomona because the band were playing. Damon and Vique Martin of the bands’ current label Pirates Press discuss the difficulties in getting the rights to the bands’ music from SouthernRecords, and Chris Boarts Larson (Slug & Lettuce ‘zine) waxes lyrical on her first SUBHUMANS gig. My favourite part of this section is the story of Shannon Saint Ryan. Instrumental in coaxing the band to play the piano-led Susan live, with his accompaniment, he spins his tale of dreams realised via beautiful, visceral prose. Stories from their early-period US tour are engrossing too: A Chinese meal with Tim Yohannon, Jello Biafra, and Ruth Schwartz, being interviewed by Flipside, headlining a 3000-capacity show at the Olympic Auditorium, and playing in a fire station with TSOL, surrounded by fire engines, in front of twenty people.
bands, bands, bands
The list of bands talking about their experiences are of course legion, including Gizz Butt (THE DESTRUCTORS), Andy Nazer of SELF ABUSE, Stew of SHRAPNEL & Peter Jones of PARANOID VISIONS (Ireland), Jaz Wiseman of VIRUS, the author’s own DECADENCE WITHIN, SENSA YUMA’s Stu Pid, and the original line-up of INSTIGATORS, who reminisce on their support slots and recording sessions for Dick’s Bluurg Records. Finally, this wouldn’t be a punk scene book without Sean Forbes (WAT TYLER/HARD SKIN) and his chortle-worthy interjections. Dick’s other outfits, CULTURE SHOCK and CITIZEN FISH, both active and orbiting around SUBHUMANS, are neatly woven into the story and, as the book rounds out with a chapter discussing the band’s impact and longevity, the reader is finally left to navigate a complete, and I mean complete discography and gigography. Coupled with a deluge of crucial and contextual photos, posters, flyers, original lyric sheets, ads, interviews, diary extracts, and letters, including some incredible live shots, comprehensive doesn’t begin to cover it.
ian glasper
It’s great to see passionate punk lifers like Ian Glasper and Welly Artcore get the chance to publish their work, thanks to the likes of Earth Island. They are the real deal, and Silence Is No Reaction (incidentally, the title is a lyric from the song Black And White) is no different. Whether a fan of SUBHUMANS or the late 70s/early 80s anarcho-punk scene, I gotta tell you, it doesn’t get any better than this. Utterly compelling from start to finish, the seemingly bottomless quantity and quality of insights, perspectives, and stories is overwhelming, in the best possible way. The bands’ warmth, humility, and eagerness to engage, along with the undimmed impact they have had on so many lives, shine brightly throughout. A veritable blueprint for how every band’s story should be told.
did you know?
From The Cradle To The Grave was inspired by a 20-minute YES song, its sleeve art deemed the most boring in the history of record covers by Seething Wells.
Since Internal Riot (2007), they’ve used E-flat tuning to “make it easier to catch some of those teenage high notes.”
Dick fractured his skull during a bike accident and lost his sense of smell, which never fully returned.
PERSONAL PUNK 