Skrewdriver is Better than Your Favorite Punk Band

Yeah, no one with more than a daub of space-dust between their ears is too into Nazis. I mean, you hafta dress up, be relatively ignorant of science and give your time over to hating a buncha stuff. I’d rather listen to reggae records. But Skrewdriver is still easily one of the best punk bands to release a full length during the first wave of UK punk. It could be argued that when the band put out All Skrewed Up in 1977 via Chiswick Records, it wasn’t the same group that would rear its head in ’83. But it’s kind of a moot point considering the first batch of songs from the re-formed (not reformed) Skrewdriver were almost on par with that original long player.

In and around the time Ian Stuart cobbled together the first line up of the now notorious band, he’d just come off a stint as a member of a Rolling Stones cover band. And while there wasn’t a pervasive political attitude flying from All Skrewed Up, the band soon found itself being heralded by a buncha skinners. Unfamiliar with the political ideologies of the right, Stuart and company just played shows. World views weren’t really a concern at this point, but as it became increasingly difficult for Skrewdriver to book gigs due to the perceived violence of its performances, band members soon disbanded the ensemble.

After kicking around for a few years and apparently investigating the platform of the National Front, Ian Stuart found a center for his band, its focus. And for this reason, Skrewdriver was put back together during the early ‘80s. What resulted were politically charged punk tracks with a bit of hard rock tossed in for good measure. It was only the very slightest in departures musically, but now the lyrical content was awash in reactionary rhetoric and nonsensical pride in a nation that was comprised of every conceivable race and creed on the planet.

Nationalism isn’t itself problematic. Believing in the goals and direction of one’s homeland is more than commendable. But to prostitute those ideals in order to spur on others to intimidate a segment of society is just short of reprehensible. Embracing skinhead culture helped propel Stuart and his band to international renown – good and bad. But as the group eventually became the mouthpiece of the white-dispossessed in England and throughout the world, Skrewdriver’s music basically started to stink.

It’s last effort that mattered (or the last two, but I’ve never seen these albums sold separately) was Boots & Braces/Voice Of Britain. The music was strong enough to even result in some tracks broadly embraced by the punk community despite the new message of its creators. “Antisocial” was and remains one of the better screeds on how an individual enmeshed in a subculture might perceive the world. A few other tracks from the latter day Skrewdriver would match that effort’s intensity. And while a great many other songs here sound good, once you take a listen to what’s being related, you’ll wanna skip around a bit. It’s not for the faint of heart or those that give a damn about P.C. nonsense, but if I can toss it on, you can.

Slaughter and the Dogs: A Disc of Manchester Punkers

To me, Slaughter and the Dogs were just another punk band that cropped up on various compilations over time. The few songs that would get included over and over weren’t bad – and I kinda liked “Cranked Up Really High.” There just wasn’t anything that was so gripping being issued by Slaughter and the Dogs that it made me think I needed to own an album. I mighta been wrong, but it kinda doesn’t matter at this point. And even if it did, the band still had enough mid-range offerings as to make any (of their two) full lengths an exercise in selective listening.

Made up of four Manchester dudes – singer Wayne Barrett, guitarist Mick Rossi, bassist Howard Bates, and drummer Mad Muffet – Slaughter and the Dogs actually performed alongside the Pistols during that infamous ’76 show. How they wrangled that seems pretty surprising, but despite that, the band would go on to release the first independent single on the Rabid Records imprint, only being beaten to the market place by the Damned and the Pistols by a few months as the first punk single to be issued in the United Kingdom. The date of that release is no longer a huge issue, but the fact that Slaughter and the Dogs made use of glam in a more pronounced manner then their brethren is notable.

Supposedly composing their band’s name based upon the collective love of Bowie’s Diamond Dogs and Mick Ronson’s Slaughter on 10th Avenue, early Slaughter and the Dogs performances found the band being attired in clothing befitting the Dolls or some other earlier band. They certainly didn’t look like punkers and some of their music reflected that. “It's Alright,” for example has a pretty in depth wah-wah guitar solo alongside the songs bluesy progression and mid tempo pacing. The track isn’t all that stunning along side something like the Damned’s “Stab Your Back,” but again harkens back to the Dolls’ combining a ‘60s rock thing with an updated attitude and posturing.

Again separating the band from it’s cohort of punk acts is its cover of “White Light/White Heat.” And while the Dils would basically re-work a different Velvet’s song to the same affect, Slaughter and the Dogs, in their rendition, whilst still punky, was simply revved up rock music and even finds Barrett singing for real. Not a bone of contention, the band, which was still given over to stage antics that would have been as welcomed on the stage at a goth show, could simply be thought to be a cut above the bands that surrounded it.

Regardless of any perceived musical advantage that Slaughter and the Dogs may have had, Barrett soon left the group after the recording of the 1978 album, Do It Dog Style. Eventually hand picking a replacement, the band soon dissolved only to come back during the ‘80s under the guise of Slaughter and copping a bit of metal attitude. But that’s what happened to glam enthusiasts. It just goes to show ya that too much Bowie does in bands.

The Pist are Sick of the Way That You Dance

I’ve had this back patch for, I dunno, ten years at this point – give or take. I think I bought it at an Anti-Flag show prior to realizing that those dudes pretty much read from a script in lieu of actual stage banter. Anyway, there’s a shredded up flag with the statement “Destroy Society” plastered atop of it all. The Pist were sweet, but I think the sentiment related on that patch is a bit obtuse. Anyway, I wasn’t ever privy to seeing the Connecticut band live. Instead, I was relegated to playing Ideas Are Bulletproof roughly twenty times a week for a few years. Oddly enough, it didn’t leave me damaged in the least – I do have tinnitus, though.

Coming from Connecticut seems odd for a group that sounds like this – maybe not if you’re from there. But the pervasive perception of that state – and the northeast in general – is that it’s all just a buncha white clapboard buildings dating from the 1700s or so. That might still be true, I dunno, but the scummy punk that the Pist (Bill Chamberlain/guitar, Al Ouimet/vocals, Brian Marshall/drums and Rick Abbott/bass) were able to revel in for just short of five years seems more intelligent than a great many other bands, not just of the nineties, but in the genre.

Politicized lyrics may have disqualified these folks from dumb punk status, but the music is still just short of tepid, quickly paced punk. There’s a dash of hardcore in there courtesy of the metalized guitar sound. And it’s gotta be said that between that and the almost Ian Stewart level of Quimet’s vocals, I might not be too into the Pist if I were to have just discovered them. But that’s not the case. Instead, listening to the lyrics represented on Ideas are Bulletproof as well as the newly cobbled together compilations spanning the band’s singles and compilation appearances is a pretty decent way to figure the way in which I arrived at my world view – some of it at least.

There might be too much of an emphasis on good ole hard work – which the Pist admit still sucks – but apart from that, the nonstop commentary on society covers every sphere of private life. There’re songs asking hunters what would happen if they became the hunted alongside tracks doused in dense political polemics and of course a few songs dedicated to commenting on the scene and music in general.

Reuniting for a few gigs during the early ‘00s, the Pist saw a small uptick in popularity, perhaps prompting these compilations. But even if there were a different reason for a renewed interest in this Connecticut band, it doesn’t matter too much as long as kids get a chance to hear choruses like the one from “New School” – “We’re sick of your tough guy stance/We’re sick of the way you dance/We’re sick of your baggy pants/So leave now while you still got the chance” – all is right in the world, even if the Pist kinda wants it all leveled.

One Life Crew - "Pure Disgust" (Video/Beating)

This is all part of the reason folks began thinking differently about the Clevo hardcore scene. I dunno if it's warranted or not, but his is some old tyme footage. And no, it's not actually a riot...

The Donkeys: Late Viewing

There was some show in Manchester, in ’76 I believe, that the Sex Pistols performed at. And without question at that point in the history of music, witnessing something like that should have changed a few people’s lives. I guess it did. I mean, I know that that show occurred and that folks that would go on to make up the Buzzcocks, Magazine and Warsaw – we’ll go with Warsaw since Joy Division/New Order is pretty horrible – were all in attendance. There were most likely people apart from that in the crowd. And while this is strictly conjecture, it’d be a good guess that the guys who would eventually comprise the Donkeys showed up at some point. What else would they have been up to? It’s Manchester after all and it’d be almost half a decade before the wash of drugs that shadowed the town would take over, so let’s at least imagine that the Donkeys were there to pogo and drink beer.

If those guys weren’t there, though, I’d be hard pressed to figure out how the Donkeys were able to release a string of singles beginning in ’79 with “What I Want” b/w “Four Letters” and ending with the ’81 single “Listen To Your Radio” b/w “Watched By Everyone.” In circles where dudes wear tight pants, bleach their hair and do a lotta uppers, the ten sides recorded by this Manchester band has apparently reached some sort of fever pitch with no less than two compilations being cobbled together. There musta been a few stray tracks that didn’t see the light of day before in addition to some demos that were laying around, but two discs? Unnecessary. But if there’s a market, take advantage of it, I suppose.

Anyway, represented on the appropriately titled Monkey Business are all of those assorted singles plus some to boot. Working in chronological order has its merits. And as the disc begins with “Four Letters,” despite the fact that the song was a b-side, it’s got enough of a punky flair and big enough bass line to get the effort over. But as the disc progresses and we get close to that last single, it becomes pretty clear that the Donkeys fell pray to that oh so popular ‘80s sound and some of the lesser trappings of the new wave movement. By the time listeners arrive at the last pair of songs from a single, the band’s devolved into a lame pop group.

I suppose none of this is any worse than some latter day moments courtesy of the Jam, but they were able to be occasionally ballsy, whereas these guys kinda weren’t. The inclusion of “Attitude Dancing”  here – which seems to be the band’s “Watching the Detectives” – isn’t horrible, but just seems like a one off gimmick as opposed to a recording professing the Donkey’s love for the reggae, reggae music.

What’s remarkable – apart from those first few singles – is the fact that the Donkeys never recorded a full length album. So while Monkey Business seems like a collection culled from a variety of sources, it is. There’s better power-pop out there, but there’s certainly also worse.

One Life Crew: Labcabincleveland

Hardcore – the variety that arose after Black Flag, Minor Threat, Bad Brains and the Necros – has really been in the throngs of weirdo infighting since the mid ‘80s. If you went to Boston  during that time and wound up in the wrong show drunk or with a leather jacket on, you mighta caught a beat down. That aside, the music also seemed to deteriorate at a pretty rapid pace. And with the infusion of anti-racists sentiment (which alone isn’t bad) and militant vegetarianism/veganism expanding its influence, the ‘movement’ that resulted seemed to become as much about politics as anything else. Most likely alotta folks associated with that went on to some enlightened way of life, so it wasn’t a total loss.

But the P.C. bent to so much of the genre at some point began impacting the perception of bands that were believed to have made any sort of misstep. Cleveland, being what it is and was, might have had a higher percentage of miscalculating groups than anywhere else. As a disclaimer, I grew up there, and it’s probably pretty hard to mature in the Jamdown without having a few negative impressions of the bums (regardless of where they’re from) that skirt around sidewalks all day long and sleep on heating grates near Tower City. But that was the place that sprung Integrity and One Life Crew - both of whom have in recent years been relegated to a lesser status than perhaps either deserves

But what OLC contends – and its true – is that there’s a difference between racism and being adamantly against illegal immigration. Of course, at times the language used to express those opinions has become a bit aggressive (“in your rat land you belong” from “Pure Disgust). But by contrast the now classic “Our Fight” has the lines “Work together, stop all this hate/Racist ways are so wrong…”

So, yea, you can hate how OLC has overtime begun to incorporate more specific illustrations of what they won’t stand for in the ‘their’ country, but there’s still a fine line there. Regardless, though, someone gets called a ‘fag’ about every two minutes on the group’s greatest hits (?) compilation, Is What It Is. But beyond that, they still hate cops and we can all relate to that.

Some of the targets taken aim at over this compilation spanning the fifteen or so years of OLC’s existence are confusing. Jesse Jackson? Really? I mean, he’s givin’ it a shot at least. And while not everyone is going to agree about how to go about attaining a broad equality, the Reverend has dedicated his life to helping folks, whereas OLC makes pissed off music for pissed off people. I dunno if it’s a draw, but it’s an interesting contrast.

The only thing that winds up slowing down the progression of the group over the fifty some odd stray shots here are the various skits that, while well intentioned, do kinda make all involved seem like something akin to right wing reactionaries. And while it’s alright to hate vacuous liberals, it should be understood that any strict adherence to orthodoxy (of any sort) ends up blinding folks.

Hubble Bubble Further Complicates Plastic Bertrand's Discography

Ok, so European punk is an endless, confusing and poorly annotated thing. It’s not anyone’s fault. And probably if the lineage of everyone and everybody has remained rather obscure, it’s because no one really cares too much to straighten it out. But one of the continental countries with the coolest backlog of old punkers – Belgium – has further confounded me. The name Hubble Bubble, whilst still the name of a band I’m about to get into, is also a way in which to refer to a hookah. But considering that fact that we’re talking about Europeans, there might just be tobacco product in there. Who knows?

 So, Hubble Bubble put out a handful of singles and two full length albums, the first being a self titled 1978 disc – their second effort has been referred to as more enjoyable, but that’s just simply taste. And while I won’t attempt to rationalize some one else’s opinion of a specific disc, I will try to figure out where Plastic Bertrand keeps cropping up. Some may know the name from his brief brush with stardom for a single called “Ça Plane Pour Moi,” which was released in ’77. Not too much later, a group called Elton Motello, which was made up of the backing band on Bertrand’s single recorded an English language version. Still later, the Damned would rework the song in its most recognizable and well known version.

The reason that that maters, though, is the fact that Bertrand (working under the name of Roger Jouret) played drums and sang for Hubble Bubble. He’s on the first full length, but due to the internets not coughing up a proper discography, he may or may not be on that second disc. If all of this wasn’t confusing enough already, Bertrand’s ‘hit’ single was released a year prior to Hubble Bubble’s first long player. Judging from the music Bertrand was into in his solo career, it seems as if something is amiss with all the dates included here. Could he go from punk to weirdo-new-wave and back to a trashier, noisey punk in the space of a year? I guess.

The sound of Hubble Bubble might bear that out as well. Beginning the album with an inept punk piece called “Big Star Rolling,” Hubble Bubble was able to move in a number of sub-punk rock outs before arriving at “New Direction,” which while not a pop track, seems more palatable than a great deal of the rest of the disc. Of course the vocal harmonies help out a bit on that offering – and yes it’s surprising to hear ‘em. But that’s part of what makes this disc entertaining. From one piece to the next, the trio is able to sound drastically different with Bertrand aping a cough syrup croon every once in a while.

This first album isn’t in the same league as the Kids – maybe Razors are in the same category. But that group possesses a more focused approach to sloppy punk, if that makes sense. Hubble Bubble comes in recommended, but if you don’t have the first two albums from the Kids, cop those guys first.

The Normals are Sometimes the Truth

More than any other genre, I’m glad that I won’t ever be able to fully grasp how many punk bands came and went without releasing a proper disc or even making enough noise for me to have ever heard of ‘em. That’s boss. And while punk, as a whole, can be perceived as a varied music, some of the best stuff is just simple, bash your head against the wall simplicity – no more, no less, just pure impact. More specifically, though, I would imagine that the south still has more dusty, untold gems than any northern destination. Punk is a pretty urban thing. And while weird wherever it was, punk was probably a bit more palatable in a few erudite, metropolitan areas.

Coming outta Louisiana, the Normals probably should have been as big as any other second tier punk act – that’s not meant as a slight, but the quartet wasn’t the Ramones, the Dead Boys or Black Flag. Regardless of that, the ensemble – made up of David Brewton (guitar/vox), Charlie Hanson (guitar/vox), Chris Luckette (drums/vox) and Steve Walters (bass) – almost approximated pieces of each of those aforementioned bands into its sound. It wasn’t always a pretty amalgamation of noise, but when in sloppy rock territory, the Normals almost reached the heights of the Ramones – almost.

As was the lot of so many bands from the first wave of American punk, the Normals didn’t release a proper full length, being able only to muster enough backing and interest in 1978 for a lone single - “Almost Ready” b/w “Hardcore.” While the b-side was neither hardcore, nor particularly good, “Almost Ready” could have found its home on any of the numerous KBD compilations from years gone by. The vocal approach, that assimilates Joey Ramone and a bit of sugary ‘60s pop harmonies, makes the quick step drumming and effectively simple guitar come off as a perfect confection.

It could be considered the highlight of the Normals recorded out put – it might be. But compiled onto Your Punk Heritage (1977-84) are the rest of the demos, live tracks and even a few radio ads that the band had lying around. Paired down from the 23 tracks here, it could have made for a startling and succinct record. Instead, the Normals, over a seven year period, shift into a radio friendly territory represented on some of those live tracks. It was most likely a calculated metamorphosis predicated as much on the band’s interests in addition to everyone’s desire to get a record deal. “You Ain’t Nothin’” might be pop nonsense, but the brief glory of its guitar solo should invite listeners to imagine what the band could have accomplished if given a shot.

The entirety of Your Punk Heritage (1977-84) isn’t anywhere near perfect, but again songs like “Yankee Dollar,” that seem almost tossed off due to the absurdist lyrical content, are even able to summon images of the Professionals in their post-Sex Pistols prime. I honestly have no idea if this comp is even available any longer, but dig it well.

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