The first thing that strikes you about this release is the ‘torn’ sleeve effect, juxtaposing extreme wealth and poverty. It is actually torn. Turn that piece over and a scene of extreme poverty is displayed. Each cover has been individually ripped so look slightly different, a simple but striking device.
This six track 7″ EP is a kind of wealth inequality ‘concept’ record, as all but one song tackles this issue from differing perspectives:
The Ones Who Are Left Behind kicks things off with chiming guitars and a catchy, emotive chorus. True to the punk ethos of giving voice to the voiceless, it tells the stories of those who have been left behind by economic and technological developments. Inspired by a tour of Russia in 2012, they were witness to the poverty and struggles of, often older, people in towns and villages, away from the prosperous metropolitan areas.
Another Peasant Valley Slum Day reminds me of a t-shirt I once had, with ‘Crush Capitalism‘ in the Coca Cola logo and the snappy legend ‘the global economy is a doomsday machine‘ underneath. The lyrics expose multinational corporations’ exploitation of cheap labour and non-existent health and safety laws in poor countries. Sadly, this is still as relevant as ever and the sleeve notes remind us that the pandemic has exacerbated the situation. This song is a real highlight, there’s a sense of simmering anger, with a slight nod to the DEAD KENNEDYS in the guitar riff and lyrical imagery.
Behind The Ironic Curtain – a one minute barrage of garbled blastbeat-ridden fury, like a cross between SPAZZ and AUS ROTTEN. Taking a different look at Western economies, it points to ever-growing mental health problems resulting from our ‘improving’ standard of living. High housing costs and the ‘gig’ economy clash with our desire to reach ever-more impossible dreams, resulting in greater stress.
Two Sides of the Same Coin – ‘Extreme poverty, extreme wealth, you figure it out!’ In. Shout! Fast! Done. A 43 second pulse-pounder. The notes state: “we will never put an end to poverty until the world agrees that we cannot afford the super-rich”.
One In A Million is one of those ultra-fast short songs with the higher pitched ‘yaa, yaa, raa, yaa, raa‘! vocals. Another 43 seconds of chaos at hyper-speed. Lyrically, it again tackles the super-rich, pointing out that since the economic crisis of 2008, the wealth of these people has tripled. Yikes.
The EP closes with Wanting A Future Is So Passe, confronting the jaded cynicism of the band’s – and my – generation, from youthful idealism to world-weary pessimist. A hugely optimistic message is contained herein, one many of us could learn from: in seeing the world as messed up, we ignore the progress made on issues such as animal rights, climate change and LGBT issues. Musically, it’s a slower number with chugging, machine-gun guitar work, a rousing ‘woah, oah’ chorus, the lyrics riffing on THE WHO: “yes, I’m talking about my generation, I hope I get old before I die”.
Every ACTIVE MINDS release is a package. Much like CRASS releases of old, the artwork, music, lyrics and notes – ideas, are always varied, powerful and thought-provoking and Two Sides Of The Same Coin is no exception. Essential.
Opener My World Now surprises with it’s DEAD KENNEDYS-esque stark guitar line before digging in further to become a crust-punk version of Police Truck. Not As I Do gets in and out leaving maximum casualties, with galloping drums and an actual chorus. Tomorrow Disappears literally bristles with anger, while Angry Corpses has a touch of the RUDIMENTARY PENI‘s, most obviously in the title but in the higher pitched vocals too. Final song Making Sense of Reality takes it’s cues from early eighties anarcho punk, with chiming guitars and unhinged laughter, reflecting the queasiness of a once-sane mind infected by a deranged world.
It’s no surprise that the band’s name comes from a RUDIMENTARY PENI song (from the Farce EP on Crass Records). The gauzy spirit of those cult death-rockers haunts more than just the artwork, much like ENDLESS GRINNING SKULLS before them, with whom they share sonic similarities. Elements of crust and anarcho-punk are blended with pounding dissonance to create seething, swivel-eyed frustration. The musical equivalent of being caught up in a heated protest threatening to erupt into angry riot. Essential stuff.
KÖRD VÄRLD – Total Distortion 7″ EP (Kibou/Cimex/Kangaroo)
Charlie Cimex (ANTI-CIMEX, KNIFE FOR AN EYE, DRILLER KILLER) and James Domestic (THE DOMESTICS, PI$$ER, TOKYO LUNGS) are back for another shot at the charts with KÖRD VÄRLD (fucked world). Charlie brings his substantial drumming prowess while James flexes his considerable multi-tasking muscle to provide guitar, bass and vocals. The artwork and EP title give the game away as to what’s in store: four tracks of 80’s Swedish thrash worship a la SHITLICKERS and MOB 47, though you’ll hear just as much of Japan’s KURO and Finland’s TAMPERE SS. Tighter and more blasting than those originals, we are still treated to distorted guitars, sub-audible bass, frantic drums and that recognisable vocal bark, with minimal production completing the grubby sonic picture. Fast, pissed off and generic but we’re not here for the originality, right?
PI$$ER – Carved Up For Yuks mini LP (Kibou/Sick World/TNS/ Cimex/No Time/Toxic Wotsit)
Barely seven months after our styluses recovered from the insanity of the d-beat/jazz-punk epic ‘Crushed Down To Paste‘, James Domestic, clearly still unhinged by the experience, has gone back and tinkered with four of its tracks, along with three from the earlier ‘Wretched Life’ 7″. Part remix, part mad-dub-scientist plot, this has the potential to go horribly wrong as the originals are torn asunder and remoulded.
Opener Nasty Rhythm – rudimentary dance music morphing into industrial churn – does a great job of introducing the unhingery. Pi$$ Bazaar is an atmospheric highlight, with spacey ‘dance-hall’ drums, dub effects and isolated guitar/sax combining to create a truly fresh feel. Others, like 15% Dub Time – increase the d-beat speed and add extra effects – remain faithful to the source. Dub Won’t Repent keeps the drums and overlays them with squelchy dub goodness and sampled Christian preachers to satisfying effect. Jazz-Funk Wasps(Jazz Wasps) is surely the least rewarding, despite having a new funky piece to accompany it because, well, you can’t improve on spoken-word/avante-jazz perfection. A Wretched Dub, while still a fast punker, has a sampled voice – “how wretched is your life?” – and stop/start dynamics to enhance the mania.
The final track on Crushed Down To Paste is the five minute Dance In The Light Of Your Burning Bridges. Retitled as More Petrol, More Light, More Dancing, it has gained a few pounds – an extra four minutes for starters, giving James plenty of space to expand on this already remarkable track. The basic beat remains, as does that warm, soulful saxophone. A little extra twist has been added to the root tune, ushering in some atmospheric ‘Dr Who’-style sounds along with a powerhouse new spoken word piece. Trust me when I say that this is a truly jaw-dropping, ten minute tour de force.
Ordinarily, I’m sniffy about remix projects as they’re so often self-indulgent exercises in tedium but this is something of a revelation. With the isolation of guitar riffs, sampled drums, dub reggae meanderings and mucho studio effects utilised, new sonic narratives are opened up. Don’t despair though: the skronky sax endures.
James Domestic clearly needs to keep busy and his ability to be creative within a genre often seen as having a limited palette knows no bounds. With Carved Up For Yuks, he has mastered the seemingly impossible and elevated the source material to an even higher level. A total delight.
Available to pre-order 14th February 2021, official release 26th February 2021. Limited to 189 copies on red vinyl, 125 on black.
punk journalist passes the baton with fifth & final book
I think punk is people. Punk is community. Punk is like-minded people working together as one. And for as long as there are communities, there will be punk.
Ben, DISJOY
The fifth and final book in Ian Glasper’s heroic attempt to document the UK punk scene from the early eighties to the present day, weighs in at a hefty 650 pages. Previous volumes covered smaller time periods – Burning Britain focused on 1980-’85, Trapped In A Scene ’85-90, The Day The Country Died, the anarcho-punk off-shoot of the late 70’s and 80’s and Armed With Anger took on the 90’s. As in mainstream pop culture, there is a vaguely definable line between these periods, a measurable development and a loose ‘beginning and end’. Any attempt at carving up the last twenty years in such a way would inevitably prove futile, and with good reason: the internet, and subsequently social media, changed everything for everyone and the DIY punk scene wasn’t immune to its divisive charms. In-depth analysis of this is best left in the more capable hands of Sociology students and the Punk Scholars Network but suffice to say, it explains why the author had little choice but to cover a twenty year period in a single volume.
Of course, it’s impossible to be definitive. The underground punk scene of the last two decades is a multi-tentacled leviathan, with countless sub-genres and micro-scenes existing alongside, and often without knowledge of each others existence. Ironically, the infinite connections made possible by the ‘net resulted in a more fragmented scene than in say, 1985-1990, with that era’s community-building utilisation of the mail system via stamp-soaping, flyers, fanzines and word of mouth. With such a seismic shift, how does one begin to capture this, the hardiest of scenes, in a single volume?
The authors modus operandi remains the same: let the bands do the talking. There are 111 music biz-shunning punk and hardcore bands the length and breadth of the British Isles here with a good cross-section of styles: UK82, anarcho, crust, d-beat, thrash, hardcore, riot grrrl, ukecore… (I made that last one up but THE PUKES are featured). The emphasis is on each bands individual stories, with the impact of the internet, social media, Covid-19 and Brexit delivering the coda. Many bands have members who were active during pre-‘net decades, so have perspective of ‘before and after’ and this once again raises a perennial question: does the UK punk scene have enough new blood coming through to ensure it’s survival? This is an insecurity that recurs through the years and the answer, so far, has always been ‘yes, at least enough to secure continuity through the fallow times’.
“DIY grass-roots punk rock is doing very well. It’s like Doctor Who – it regenerates every few years. There will always be a healthy turnover of bands and people, all very enthusiastic about making music, organising gigs, doing zines and record labels. And one of the things I love most about that is that the next generations usually aren’t quite so deferential to the bands that came before them. That’s exactly how it should be.”
Dave, NATTERERS
The long-standing scratching post of punk nostalgia and the Rebellion festival gets a regular airing. The punks of the late 70’s and early 80’s ridiculed teddy boys for their refusal to let go of their own musical youth and a sizeable element of the punk scene has followed that same path, right down to Butlins Punk Specials. Fierce debate remains between the purists who believe it to be a sad spectacle of a once radical spirit and those who see it as a harmless social gathering, though the latter seem to be slowly grinding down the former as Rebellion increases its inclusion of current bands.
Ian Glasper
There were always going to be omissions. The likes of FIG. 4.0, DAUNTLESS ELITE, THE MAGNIFICENT, DOWN AND OUTS, ARTERIES, MILLOY, JETS VS SHARKS et al, are conspicuous by their absence but there is alot of material here. Big hitters like skate-thrash japesters PIZZATRAMP, the oddball social-commentary-pop of WONK UNIT, anarcho-noise merchants BAD BREEDING and brutal hardcore heroes THE DOMESTICS and GRAND COLLAPSE share the stage with SALEM RAGES’ death rock, THE MIGRAINES’ skatecore and the lo-fi rants of THE MENSTRUAL CRAMPS. The latter in particular, bring refreshing confrontation to a scene that, at least in the Rebellion-Nostalgia element, still holds to some pretty dispiriting sexist attitudes. So then, these are first-hand reports of a wildly varied scene, lovingly detailed, individual voices describing very different experiences but with a passion for a DIY punk community as common denominator.
A section on grass-roots record labels would have made for the perfect addendum but alas, it has to end somewhere. Still, the book is crawling with crystal clear band photos, live shots and gig posters, another example of advancing technology aiding the documentation of this period.
The Scene That Would Not Die reports on a DIY punk scene that has proven itself to be the hardiest of street-fighters: shifting, rolling with the punches and swatting aside any and all threats to its survival. Arguably, it’s biggest obstacles are just around the corner but if the past is to teach us anything, it should be that you just can’t kill the spirit. Hopefully, there will be DIY journalists as dedicated as Glasper along the way to document it.
Available to pre-order now from Earth Island Publishing, publication date is 7th December 2020.
Here’s to all that help out to keep the scene alive Putting in for nothing back because of you we thrive The punx, promoters, bands, the zinesters Non-profit labels and everyone involved! DIY, DIY or die
Book your own shows Make your own label Zines, records, flyers Do it yourself
PLEASANT VALLEY CHILDREN were late 80’s, UK hardcore punk with a dark, nihilistic identity. Criminally underrated, most people prefer their admittedly impressive demo. For me though their best recording was the FUCK KILL DESTROY! LP (released in 1991 on Words Of Warning Records), a near-perfect capture of twisted, sarcastic hardcore. At times unhinged, at others brooding, touchstones are DEAD KENNEDYS & CRUCIFUCKS, though reviews at the time favoured BLACK FLAG as a strong influence. Shot through with a deliciously dark British humour, it was capped off with dismal, nihilistic artwork. That said, it is their debut 7″ EP, What The World Needs Now (1989, also on WOW), that brings back halcyon memories of flies, blisters and youth hostels.
what the world needs now… is a personal fly-cloud
Soon after the release of this single, my brother David and I embarked on an ambitious (for us) week of hiking in the Yorkshire Dales. The plan was to walk from hostel to hostel, armed only with an ordnance survey map and Dave’s meticulously planned route. A truly memorable week, not least because the blisters I developed were beyond anything I had expected. Incredible. Then there were the flies. It was towards the start of the trip, the weather was balmy and we were nice n’ relaxed as we passed a copse to our left. As we clambered over a stile to cross a field, an enormous swarm of flies swooped out of the trees, enveloping us completely. Running full pelt, complete with our own personal fly-cloud, rucksacks jouncing, arms waving frantically while making pathetic shrieking noises, we finally we made it to the other side. We collapsed, laughing uncontrollably, the flies having inexplicably retreated back to their watch.
Another day saw us having to walk half way down a mountain and back up again to avoid a particularly intense looking herd of cows, who hadn’t taken too kindly to a couple of pasty-faced humes crossing their path. Subsequently, we got lost on the top of that mist-shrouded mountain, and Dave wandered off to see if he could figure out the correct route down. He was gone for ages. I stood there, frantically scanning the eerily thick fog, shouting his name until I thought my throat would tear. After a disconcertingly long time, he reappeared out of the mist and I blasted him because my worry came out as anger. I remember thinking that I sounded just like our Dad when he got mad, possibly the first time of many I realised that, at least in part, we can’t escape becoming our parents.
“what do you mean, no pub?”
On one day’s walking, Dave’s well-researched route had inevitably gone awry, so we hitched a ride the rest of the way. When we arrived, I discovered that he had booked us into a hostel that didn’t have a pub within walking distance. I know. I wonder at how man times I must have said “what do you mean, no pub?” After walking all those miles each day, I always looked forward to plopping down, exhausted, in the nearest Dales drinking establishment, scarfing down some food and following it with a few choice ales (lager). Suitably unimpressed, I fumed on my bunk, attempting to read Silence of the Lambs while listening to a grizzled ex-army bloke pop his blisters with a pin whilst simultaneously opining the lack of conscription in the UK. Downstairs in the games room, Dave played skittles and other table-top thrills with some lasses he’d met – he was single then and always on the lookout. It was a long night.
uncharacteristic casual cruelty
We gave names to some of the characters we met along the way: Bottle Aftermath, Huge Features and Sheep spring to mind, though I think I can safely leave the origin of these to your imagination. Uncharacteristically cruel as this may seem, the only defence I can offer is that those so-named were, without exception, pompous twats and smug know-it-alls. Skipping forward, the last day arrived and I recall it perfectly, bittersweet though it is. The long, torturous haul to the pick-up point reduced me to a blistered, sun-blasted creature, virtually on my hands and knees. The aforementioned blisters had finally succumbed to the pressure, the leaking fluid soaking the ends of my socks – I had had enough while Dave breezed ahead, cheerily pointing out the welcoming sight of our parents car in the distance. This was the second time during that week that I was immeasurably pleased to see them. The first was on the day we had walked for hours in torrential rain and, on arriving in Settle, there they were, having booked us a room in an actual pub. Just… wow. That week was a truly memorable time for me and my kid brother. The day we decided to take a break from walking, we spent the day rock hopping and arsing about round Aysgarth Falls, like a couple of kids without a care (which we were, really – Dave and me were late to mature) has taken on hazy, soft-focus hues with the passage of time, and remains a special memory.
the return of Huge Features
So why does the beautiful mess of the PLEASANT VALLEY CHILDREN EP take me back to that week? One evening, after another days slog, we turned up at Grinton Lodge Youth Hostel to find that they didn’t have any beds left. That’s a lie. They did have a damp, mouldy old caravan on the hostel grounds. Too tired to be choosy, we took it. After walking into Reeth and unearthing a pub with a vegetarian menu – a rarity in most places back then but unheard of in rural Yorkshire – tucked up in our damp cots, we listened to one of my compilation tapes. On it was Flounder by PVC, taken from the EP this article is titled after. Pig Havoc growling “sometimes I could kick you just to see you mooove!” made us laugh so hard, we must have kept awake those staying in the other damp and mouldy caravan across the way. We rose early in the morning to spot none other than Huge Features himself, stepping bleary-eyed from it and didn’t feel so bad. We did, however, keep up our admirable Pig Havoc impressions for the rest of the week.
a Sned story
PVC
PVC’s drummer Sned was a crucial piece of the DIY scene in the 80s, 90s and beyond. As well as playing in countless legendary UK bands such as GENERIC, ONE BY ONE, HEALTH HAZARD, JOHN HOLMES and BOXED IN, he also released a slew of vital records on his Flat Earth label – all of which are available to stream on the bandcamp page – and he was/is a really amiable bloke. Our paths crossed on a few occasions, so here is a little Sned story: from 1987 to 1989, my then partner Sarah and I promoted DIY punk gigs under the name Off With Her Head at the Queens Hotel in Scunthorpe, and there are many tales from this time. PVC actually appeared at one of the later ones and played an unhinged set to the local crowd who had a penchant for sitting on the floor. This didn’t prevent vocalist Pig Havoc from stalking and thrashing his way among them. That same year, Sned’s other band, GENERIC, played with Danbert Nobacon (of CHUMBAWAMBA), the latter doing his solo acoustic act. Incidentally, around this time, Danbert released a 7″ single with a close up of his genitals on the cover, and had taken to dropping his trousers while playing those songs live. Thankfully, we were spared that on this night.
Sned had been feeling rough since arriving earlier in the evening but by the time Danbert took the stage, he looked awful and said that he felt really ill. It was suggested that he should go to A&E to get checked over so I went with him and the rest of the band to Scunthorpe General Hospital. While we waited for him to be seen on that busy Saturday night, back at the Queens the unfortunate Danbert was heroically extending his set in the hope that GENERIC would get back in time to play theirs. Finally, Sned was diagnosed with a urine infection and treated with antibiotics. We made it back to the venue, Sned feeling much better and GENERIC managed to play a brilliant set to an appreciative but seated crowd.
Around the time PVC played their gig at The Queens, the UK punk scene was awash with bands playing crusty, metallic thrash and PVC shone brightly with their off-kilter racket. They remain another unsung gem in the UK DIY hardcore punk canon.
PERSONAL PUNK 