Shonen Knife - The Portland Arms - 11/04/2018

With the evenings still dark and the weather still heavy and wet, there are few things more fun to do on a weeknight than fit a couple hundred middle aged alternatives into the back of a pub and have them remember back to the 90s, when all the things we were angry about were so much simpler and the NME was still a thing (Ha! Die, you devil, DIE!). There is a chance that someone in that room, other than the touch-screen wielding venue technician) wasn't around when people first heard of Shonen Knife, thanks mostly to the words of Kurt Cobain, but if they were then they were nowhere near where I was standing. This was a place packed with weary travelers, making a journey after a busy day of adult things to see two sets of sprightly journeymen entertain and enliven them all. The atmosphere before the first chord was plucked was a mix of apprehensively buzzy mixed with reverent anticipation. People wanted to make a night of it, then get back home in time for the next day.

First to take the stage were the unknown quantity: The Kolars. If anyone in the audience knew them they didn't give it away, as the reception to them as they walked on stage was polite, warm, but not too personal. Both members were bedecked in sequins and 50s chic, the guitarist's hair a majestic quiff, but with enough glam and modern touches to gave nothing too much away. Then the drummer stood atop her bass drum, and people just knew this was going to be different. The first three numbers were stompingly good rockabilly, stripped down and oiled up like a modern day Cramps that grew up on Happy Days and hope. The sound was embracing, the tapdancing drummer was an excitement to watch - halfway between a go-go dancer, a cheer leader, and an honest invitation for everyone to just have a good time - the lyrics were vivid and touching, and it if that had been the next 30 minutes people would have been happy with a great novelty Rock-And-Roll act.

Instead, at song four. they knocked it up a notch and threw in a mix-tape blend of their native LA's space rock drenched in pop sensibilities to the proceedings and sat there for the rest of the set, turning the audience from welcoming observers to won-over participants. Nothing to thick or confusing, everything perfectly placed and approachable, but adding depth and colour. All of this was helped by the duo visibly having a good time, Lauren the drummer more so than the sometimes zenned out Rob, the singer guitarist. If you don't want this in your car when you're driving in the summer then you are missing a trick, and if this act doesn't get more attention then I don't know what's wrong with the world.


As good as they were, the night was always going to be for Shonen Knife and their own take on power trio punk. Sitting halfway between early Buzzcocks, later period Ramones, and what Yo Gabba Gabba could have been if it grew up on the mean streets of Osaka. This is straightforward, easy to listen to, bouncy tunes about whatever Naoko Yamano has decided to sing (it takes a lot to get a cheer from the line "This is a song about my hobby, tennis"). Given that they have been playing music, that you can easily call twee and simple as a criticism or a compliment, around the globe for over 35 years, the reaction to them walking on stage in their powerpuff girls meet early 80s glam-metal costumes was about as welcoming as you would expect.

They had nothing to prove, as everyone in the room already loved them, and very little to do other than rip through an hour of tunes with minimal pauses and almost no mucking around. There was a little banter, but it wasn't clear if the minimal discussion was because they didn't have great English skills or if they just wanted to get on with playing with as much gusto as if they had just discovered how to hit their first note. It wasn't business like or disinterested, it was just efficiently wanting to entertain and show off their latest creations along with their classics. Their mood was infectious, the crowd lapped up every moment up, and whilst the whole thing only lasted an hour it was a perfect one.

We Are Fucked - Flesh Eating Foundation

Lets not beat around the bush here, the three-piece industrial collective that is the Flesh Eating Foundation are not in a happy mode in this new album. They are most clearly fucked off, and they want to make music that reflects this. Whilst they have retained some of the beats and groove that were ever present in their previous releases, this time the sound is bigger, the crushing distortion is more encompassing, and the urgency of things just being fucked are more present than ever before. This is not a fun album, this is a collection of angry thoughts and violent noises ejected out to share the hurt. Which is a long way of saying "this is bloody good stuff."

It's also a fairly experimental album, with a lot more variety in sound and approach than previous offerings. Tempos, themes, densities, and just what can be done to a soundboard to make it cry, are all played around with in varying forms of gay abandon. Not only are you not going to get bored at any point, you are also not going to get used to the punishment being hammered into your ears. Sounds as diverse as digital hardcore, aggrotech, and even ambient noise are all at play here, meaning that there is likely to be something for everyone (assuming its an everyone who likes a bit of a hellscape). This is the sound of a band isn't worried about having a specific sound, but determined to just go with an emotional backdrop tone and see how many directions that can take them.

Stand out tracks, at least to these ears, include the jackhammer direct, and probably most dancefloor friendly title track "We Are Fucked", the bad acid nightmare of "Punch Drunk", the stark, Cronenburgesque, "Futurelast", and the brutalist poetic rush of "Stand Up And Be Discounted". But pick any of the songs and you'll be happy with the results, or at least smiling once you've been rinsed out by it, and the diversity of it all shows that there is still more to come out of the Flesh Eating Foundation stable. Even if it might want to punch you in the head at first sight.

2016 May Brawl - The Portland - 11/06/2016

Cambridge University has a grand tradition for traditions, and one of them is the Rock Soc's annual live show, being held at the same time as the colleges May Balls (which are mostly run in June, because Cambridge University does that kind of thing a lot). After being absent from them since back when they were held at the Man In The Moon, mostly due to them turning into black/death metal overkill and me then not keeping track of them, I decided to give this years event a go. Besides, how can you go wrong when it's £6 to get in?




WTVR
The event started quietly, with maybe 20 people milling around in all. Then a guy in leopard-print underpants walked onstage from nowhere, put a gas mask on and started making what can best be described as "one hell of an unholy racket", before then upping the ante by picking up an accordion. Then two other members of the audience walked up, jumped upon guitar and drums, and joined in with trying to redline the soundboard with what I can't really describe as songs or tunes because it was more of a wall of sound experience than anything else. Once it became clear that they were actually a cohesive band, I got around to trying to get their music, and failed in a quite pleasant way. It wasn't that it was especially cleaver or hyper-complex, it was closer to Muse on mcat than mathrock, it's just that it was filled with overdrive, feedback, and lyrics that were audible and poetic but basically a fever dream. I liked the experience, and when they focused on hammering out the tunes it managed to stay just far enough away from hipsterism to not irritate me. If pushed to pigeonhole it, I would say "avant garde alternative stoner", but given how wide-eyed the semi-naked vocalist was, a piss test would be required to prove the last bit.

Malignant Germ Infestation

Next up was a werewolf in a boiler suit on the mic accompanied by a pig scientist on guitar, with a stage setup of a sacrificial satanic alter, bathed in blood, and assorted gender blowup sex dolls with sausages tied to them. The music was very heavy techno-grindcore, with 90's game/tv/porn clips thrown in between rounds, and the show consisted of the singer thrashing on the stage, at the front of the stage, and around the audience, like.... well, like a werewolf in a grindcore band. From time to time they would molest and / or torture the sex-dolls, suspending a number from meathooks on the stage, and given the titles of songs there was a strong over-the-top porno-gore thing going on but someone would have to workout what the lyrics were to give a call on that. It was certainly energetic and the duo were clearly playing their deranged parts with just the right levels of seriousness, including the final section which was a quiet, introspective bit of mime. In the grand scheme of things, it was more an art project than music, so as long as they continue to come up with dafter things to do on the visual side (and they don't kill themselves) they should keep on charnel-housing in the free world.

Gout
From one novelty extreme band to what appeared to be another, but whilst Gout came in with Hawaiian shirts on and Human Centipede level-of-humour song titles, it all soon got lost in them being a death metal band. Quite a good one, if that's your thing (which it was for a good chuck of the crowd were), but still essentially a death metal band in Hawaiian shirts. For devotees of the genre its probably a breath of fresh air, and I can see things like the whole band being listed as "backing vocals, backing drums" etc being comedy gold, but whilst they were quite good at what they did they could have been dressed in anything they wanted, including just a bunch of black jeans and t-shirts, for all the difference the schtick made. Not dull, not bad, I'm quite probably not their target audience.

Petrol Bastard

For some this band are the logical end result of 90s industrial / underground electro; observing the disappointment of the promised future that never arrived, slapping it in the face with the realism of parochial, low-rent hedonism, and holding it up on an absurdist, reductivist, pedestal for loving parody and brutal ridicule. For others they're two blokes singing rude, daft, belligerent songs with choruses even the most drunken of audiences can vomit up, that are all done to a jackhammer up-for-it techno backing track that was ganked out of the Prodigies bin. Either interpretations is right, so you can be at the back with a wry, knowing smile or up-the-front dancing-your-tits-off and love it just as much. Easily the act that got the most motion out of the audience (including a can-can line) and certainly the most obsessed with shoving electronics up their arses,

Outright Resistance
Four musicians on stage, thrashing away like the late 80s were back and they wanted to make it into the Big Five. Singer out front, belting out with fury and heart, and scaring everyone backwards because they might as well have had "Face Towards Enemy" stamped on their forehead they were that explosive. It was fast, it was furious, it was jolly good fun, and they are clearly on a mission. They also do requests, finishing on the most chest pounding version of "Safety Dance" I've heard because one of their fans asked them to. The fans that helped them recover from having £5,000 of kit stolen, and the ones that the band are happy to talk to whenever because sometimes you just need someone to talk to and if your listening to this kind of stuff it's likely that your life isn't just roses. I had a chat with the singer at the bar afterwards, and that just confirmed that they are a very genuine act. It's probably not redefining any genres or pushing back that many musical boundaries, but it was good, it was personal without being introvert, they were clearly enjoying being up their to give it their all and, that often makes all the difference.

Trippy Wicked and the Cosmic Children of the Knight
It's a stoner band, playing stoner blues/doom rock in a stoner style. Their sing like their from Alabama and they talk like their from Essex. They introduced a song about wanting a women to get naked with them by saying it was about "a women putting their clothes on my floor" when the song is called "Clothes on my floor" and the hook lyric is "I want your clothes on my floor". Badoom-cha! What they did they did well with no surprises or deviation from the script. They mentioned that they had their album available in "delicious vinyl", I don't know if that was a comment on the format or it's taste. I wasn't stoned, so I failed to give a monkeys.

Whilst the line up was possibly a little heavy on novelty acts, rather than straight up rocking, there was enough range with the acts for their to be something for everyone to like (assuming you like the heavier side of rock in the first place). The crowd was pleasant, the beer was good, the venue just the right size, and I'll be adding the May Brawl back into my calendar.

Collective Punishment

In a move to bring back the excitement to Eurovision, in a similar way that exploding nipple-clamps brings back excitement to a doomed marriage, the powers that be have decided that the 2016 dross-a-thon will have a public vote. Oh yes, I can hear the joy on your breath already - because, like I do - this brings to the forefront of the world's largest abuse of the word "talent" show, two of the things I love the most in the world: voting systems and throwing heartfelt and whimsical abuse at the Eurovision Song Contest.

First, the technical side of things. Previously the vote was done by each country getting a jury of "music experts" / coked-up shaved monkeys to vote on the best act, the people of each nation that actually think Eurovision is worth voting on, to hit their phones to record their vote, and then it gets averaged out to give out the countries votes in preferred order/Russia as number one if within invasion range. So far, so inevitably not England winning and, because of the number of countries involved and a max of 12 points to hand out, it meant that half of the voting section of the show was wasted as a quarter of the way through someone had mathematically inevitably won and there are only so many times over twenty minutes you can show the same person trying to emote shock, surprise, and joy over something only an act of a god with a decent taste in music could stop.

The new system "creates TV magic" (their honest to god words, all complaints to info@eurovision.tv) by giving each countries' public an equal number of votes to their jury. After all, the official voting is drummed out with the monotony of a Thursday afternoon school assembly, and they will then, in reverse order, read out how many total votes each country got from the plebiscite. Technically this means that no-one knows who will have won until the very last moment, in reality it means that you get to sit through even more tedium on an already interminably slow show. Oh yeah, and it'll give the public an enhanced sense of empowerment, so it'll drive a lot text messages and give them more dollar. There is also, thanks to the app, the increased chance of someone trying to rig the vote in a more direct fashion, however Eurovision have assured everyone that that isn't possible, mostly by not admitting it is.

Anyway: on a technical level its main advantage is that "politics" (i.e. Russia) can't be too involved with the final decision and the Jury can't disagree as much with the public as before, so there will be less outcry if "the wrong act" wins. However, you still have the same basic issue as before of, if a countries Jury gives an act a 2 and the public give it a 10 it still averages out as a six, it's just now out of a possible 24 rather than 12. You also continue to have the problem of the public voting politically, rather than on an "is it actually a good act" level (Russia is basically never getting another point from the Western public) that the jury may actually be skilled to vote on. You also continue to have the issue of Cultural Closeness, wherein countries with similar musical traditions and cultures will tend to vote for each other because they 'just like the tune' because it sounds like what they hear on the radio all the time, rather than being able to make an objective evaluation of it. Oh yeah, and boobs are really going to come into play here, as there are going to be a lot of votes up for grabs if you can convince the audience that there is a chance of seeing more butter being churned, even though

So will any of that change things for the UK? No, obviously it won't because our selection criteria continues to be "are they a bloody disgrace compared to everything else we have on offer?". It's just that now we get to firmly see how much the voting public of Europe hates it, in unequivocal terms. But mostly it's just a bit of pointless deckchair moving. As an attempt at trying to be a bit more representative of the public tastes it fails, as populations aren't taken into account, as an attempt to inject some excitement it fails, as there is still the tedium of the jury section before most of what's gone before gets made pointless by the lighting round, and as an attempt to remove politics it fails, as the assumption that the audience isn't political has been proven well and truly false over the last couple of years.

About the only thing it really does is prove that the Eurovision are unwilling to deal with the basic overblown nature of the show, and that they think a bit of mid 2ks interactivity will shake things up in any meaningful manner. Because as far as Eurovision are concerned, the show will always go on, and on, and on, and on....

War On The Dancefloor - 22.01.16

Frighteningly accurate enactment

My first DJing of the 2016 and it's the stompy grounds of War On The Dancefloor at The Q Club. Laying down the sets before me were Darren (who needs to be more confident and move himself up the listing) and Chris, and then Hallam kept them going till the end. For a Friday before the post Christmas payday it wasn't that bad a turn out, and they have started stocking McEwans Champion at the bar so it all got a bit tired and emotional near the end....

11:30 to 12:45

Police State - Birmingham 6

Land of Rape and Honey - Ministry

Bomb the Clubs - Caustic

Scumbags and Spent Slags (Be My Enemy mix) - Flesh Eating Foundation

Airstrike - Seething Akira

Run You - The Quemists

Hallo Spaceboy - David Bowie

I'm Afraid of Americans (Nine Inch Nails mix) - David Bowie

Ace of Spades - The Chaos Engine

Survivalism - Nine Inch Nails

Beast - Rabbit Junk

Skinny Little Bitch - Anglespit

   {Brief Technical Pause}

Torn Apart - Stabbing Westward & Wink

Hammer of the Gods  - Fadderhead

Everything is War - Combichrist

Revolution Action - Atari Teenage Riot

Ghost Rider - Suicide

The Brief Technical Pause was due to DJuced 18 crashing when I tried to move a song from another playlist into the one I was using. Bug report filled and hopefully it'll be fixed in the next update, but I'll be looking into an alternative program if it's going to start playing silly buggers like that. Thankfully the floor waited for me to get things back on the go and they keep moving 'til the end.

Turntables at CES

To go with the recent news that "Vinyl Is Saving Music!" (it isn't, it's 7% of the market that happens to be a more expensive product so makes up a lot of sales value),  Sony and Panasonic have turned up to the Consumer Electronics Show ("This is what you could have had for Christmas!") with a pair of turn-tables. And thus "Vinyl Is Back!" screams everyone who hasn't got a clue what they're talking about but this time hopes they're going to be on the Cool Train.

Now firstly, and I want to make this very clear, the two decks in question are "Nice!". As in 'audiophile says these things are good bits of kit' nice. The Technics are essentially a more modern version of the SL-1200G which everyone of "a certain age" and calibre in DJing has used, because they were actually that good. Even if you weren't of the right calibre you've played on a rip-off of them, because they were just that ubiquitous for a reason, and now they have a nicer direct-drive motor in them so you'll get a smoother mix IF you still use vinyl. Which most people stopped doing years ago, which was why they stopped being made.

The Sony offering PS-HX500 is different approach entirely; essentially the most tricked out version of the "convert you're vinyl to MP3" that everyone one in the days between after you started switching to digital and before you found out you could download someone else's better copy from Pirate Bay. It's got internal audio-to-digital conversion, edit/mixing software, and you can technically hook it up to a audio rig and play out on it at a real good quality.

But you won't if you're serious about your music, because it's vinyl and vinyl sucks. Or, at the very least, it does when compared to modern formats. Yes, vinyl had a very important place in the history of music, and, yes, there was something nice about going to a record shop and fingering through the album racks, and, yes, if you must be the kind of person who's most important format decision is how obviously you can show off that you bought a record, it's nice to have a large physical item with a big cover on the front. I know this, because I've got a collection of vinyl myself as I go weak at the knees being able to touch a bit of music history; it mostly sits on the shelf whilst I listen to the FLACs. Some people still DJ on vinyl, however the two biggest reasons to do this are because it's all part of the performance of that particular event or they are stubborn die-hards that also don't set the levels back when they've finished their sets. Anyone who does it because it's only available on vinyl has long since converted the music to digital, because it's the only way to keep such precious content from falling apart.

Vinyl is heavy, awkward to carry, deteriorates rapidly, and is expensive to produce, ship, and stock. The reason that CD and digital is doing so well right now is because it's about a million times better for most everyday usage, be you a DJ or a regular listener. At one time vinyl sounded the best for the period, before wear and tear kicked in, but those days are gone and you can demonstrably get a far better sound from digital now, as scientifically proved on a number of occasions. You can also, if you're into making music, get it out and about in minutes rather than months by using the magic of electronics.

What's happened with the recent vinyl boom is that a bunch of people decided to be hip and focus on the iconography of vinyl and the retroism of it. The novelty of buying something which a whole generation are just not used to seeing anywhere has kicked in, it's become a cheap luxury item and a means to show musical eliteness with the minimum of effort. And because of that boom Sony and Panasonic have gone "lets make the thing that everyone is asking us for, because everyone's got an MP3 player or streaming device and they all threw their record players away in 2005". They are adding either some minor technical innovation (because it's a technology that stopped advancing 20 years ago) or some consideration to how the technology is being used these days (because the other formats are just more convenient). But they are not going to break the bank with these devices, because vinyl is not going to come back as anything more than niche. No matter how much people scream about it.

Which is not to diminish the kit they are selling, because it is very nice.

The Sonics: Psycho-Sonic and This Is The Sonics

The Sonics are one of those bands that never made it as big at the time as we now think they should have, because what they did didn't really make that much sense to a lot of people until many years later. For the brothers Andy and Larry Parypa in 1964 Tacoma, Washington state, that thing was to play a style of stripped down rock and roll that burned with a rawness, a passion, and a power that would be the tinder and the fuel everything in the line of American folk music that would eventually end up being called punk. Rather than follow the norm of the time and "move on" towards psychedelia, progression, or pop, they hunkered down and tried to find out how much more could be beaten out of the original formula.

The result was the two albums, Here Are The Sonics (1965) and Boom (1966), which have been collected, along with with all the singles and alternative / live versions held from their time with Etiquette records, in the "Psycho-Sonic" album. In this you can hear their dance hall circuit origins in Boss Hoss, Louie Louie, and Roll Over Beethoven: tunes that they attack with a gusto and a sheer volume that clearly was beyond the means of that periods equipment to capture. It's a sound of people who grew up on Blackboard Jungle, rather than with it, and who just wanted to make it bigger. You can also hear the start of the outsider anthem, especially the triumvirate of The Witch, Psycho, and Strychnine, which mixed the dark social/horror themes of the blues with a James Dean swagger that had no clue where it was going or how but knew it had to get their fast. It was anger that wasn't sure why it felt that bad, and only felt worse because everyone else was having such a good time. Its a savage piece of America, but with a musicianship and core listenability that makes it enthralling and occasionally even introvert, and that carries the DNA that you can hear in the likes of The Stooges, The Ramones, and Nirvana (to name but a few of the bands fans). As an album it's a slice of a specific piece in time, of an underground that was just discovering itself, and a timeless piece of rock and roll mastery that you may have overlooked.

Given the history of the band, of their signing to a major label to then have their sound neutered and for them to split before tasting fame, it's natural to ask "what would happen if they were given a second chance now that everyone knows how great they were?". Thankfully This Is The Sonics, recorded 50 years later in 2015 with 3 of the original 5 members and following on/off live performances since 2007, answers this with a clear and concise "exactly the same thing, only louder". "I Don't Need No Doctor", "The Hard Way", and "Livin' In Chaos" are stand outs by a nose, That a bunch of 70 year old's can continue to rock as hard as before impressive in itself, but that they can do it with a sound that comes across as classic rather than retro is pure brilliance. Even the dirty-distortion of their first period is maintained, technology having improved enough to get the full glory of their overdriven glory as this is a band that could play a triangle and make it sound like it was hocked into a Marshall stack. About the only change is that they sound a little more focused, a little less confused, but in no way any more mellow nor one jot less rocking.

A Small Selection Of Things Lemmy Did Other Than Motorhead

If you are anything like me then the the chances are that today, and quite possibly tomorrow and a good number of days after that, your reaction to the passing of Lemmy is going to be playing a lot of Motorhead cranked up good and high. And after the 15 hours of blissfully wonderful studio albums, and god-alone-knows hours of incredible live recordings, (see multiple previous postings) you might want some of his other work to listen to so you can hear the true range of this mighty Rock & Roll Warrior's works. Because as long as we're still listening to him he's still with us.

The Rocking Vickers

Sam Gopal

Hawkwind

Robert Calver's Band

Lemmy And The Upstetters

Headcat

And a massive list of other collaborations and guest appearances, as you can't keep that much music tied down to one thing.

RIP Lemmy, you will be missed.

Duran Duran @ The NEC Genting Arena - 04/12/2015

The Genting Arena is best described as a cross between an airport departure lounge, what premier league football stadiums dream they are and an exercise in seeing how much you can overcharge for every kind of food and drink under the sun. It's also got lovely staff and on this brisk - but not too stormy - night, it was the venue for the return of Birmingham's greatest 80's export (or, as Simon Le Bon put it, it's "bastard children"). The venue was mostly rammed, the audience was mostly over thirty and everyone was moderately buzzing at the chance of going back to their youth. The only problem was: both the acts they had heard of had actually done a lot of stuff since they were last heard on the chart countdown.

Before that: Bloom Twins, a pair of quite talented Darkwave performers from Ukraine who do a good line in synths, live drums and mixing of 50's cinema tunes, with modern sounds that ends up being haunting, emotional and interestingly minimalistic. It was also wasted on the audience - the few that had turned up to see them by that point - and, in a neat nod to the 80's, suffered from the Ultravox problem of 'how do you make things look interesting on stage if everyone is stuck behind a sodding huge set of keyboards". I would happily listen to them again if their tunes came on the radio and would love to see them if they played in a club, but at 500 feet it was, inevitably, a bit of a non-event.

Little known fact: Seal has done seven studio albums since he released "Kiss From A Rose", something that he was quite happy to tell an audience that appeared to think he'd been keep in stasis since 1994. However they would be forgiven for having that thought, as 52 years olds really aren't supposed to be able to belt out tunes with that much power AND command the stage with that much presence AND interact with the audience with that much grace and warming wit. He started, perfectly, on Crazy and Killer which got a huge reaction. He then, perfectly, did a brace of soulful, R&B meets rock, classics from his other albums which were meet with polite applause from everyone more than three rows from the front, and finished on an, unsurprisingly perfect, rendition of "Kiss From A Rose" that got everyone singing and cheering.

Duran Duran have also not been resting on their laurels since their heyday of 1981 to 1989, especially with departures, returns and a brief hiatus when no-one really thought they would get back together again. They also (finally) have a really solid album (Paper Gods) to show off and thus were more than happy to kick things off with the title track, before kicking into a set that was 50/50 classics/tracks most of the audience didn't know because they weren't written in the 80's. But they lapped it up because it's Duran Duran, they can rock it like devils and they were overly happy to be playing to their hometown crowd, so wanted everyone to know how chuffed they were to be there.

The stage show wasn't anything too fancy and involved a bit of AV with well timed lights; the theatrics were kept minimal with only Danceophobia having any real choreography. But the impact was undeniable; the charm, charisma and confidence just dripping off every more and note. Simon Le Bon and John Taylor stalking their stage like the pop superstars they are, Nick Rhodes stayed at his keyboards like a conductor-general marshalling his forces and Roger Taylor just hammered his kit.

When they played tracks the crowd knew, everyone was dancing; when they played tracks the crowd didn't, everyone was listening - and when the moment was right, then everyone was singing. The big moment for that was the encore with Save A Prayer; something that was obviously going to be emotional, given it having become somewhat of an anthem for the Paris attacks. Le Bon introduced it well, stating the facts and offering it up as a song of hope - and then let the audience do most of the legwork. Hopefully there won't be much call for things like this in the future, but that night it gave a much-needed sense of togetherness and optimism. Then they kicked into Rio and people got back with the main point of the night: brilliant Pop that's a bit daft, occasionally poignant, and always damn good fun.

Industrial Music: Caustic

If you were after delicately nuanced or subtly composed music, then the tenth album from Matt Fanale / Caustic is not for you. This album is a steady, dependable, punch in the face; a throwback to the dawn times of industrial music that has gone "yeah - EBM, electro and the last twenty years of regular progression have been interesting and all that. But I just want violent, stompy noise and lyrics about hate." It's all stripped down, distorted beats, with shoutable tunes on themes of fucked-up feelings and disastrous emotions, designed to get people angry in the pit.

Opener "Attention Please" has a keyboard roll and lyrical delivery that reminds you of early rap tracks, whilst the instrumental "Michael Fucking Ironside" has a kind of bastard trance all the way through it like Brighton rock. The finisher "Bleached Asshole/The Deafening Beat of My Heart" touches on drone and "Toxic Waste" has the most modern sounding, near-gabba drums in it (along with some kick-arse guitar). But the rest of it, including the ironically dancefloor friendly "Bomb the Clubs", have a familiarity of the old school to them that is, frankly, awesome and needed.

Whilst experimentation and new directions are always welcome, it's great to have someone take it back to the start and go "no, this is how it's done and this is why its so damn good".  It also doesn't sound like rework-retro or hipster lo-fi, as it has a clarity of sound and depth of production that many of the early classics were missing. It's just a selection of the core concepts of the genre done with none of the extraneous elements that can often overcrowd or over-complicate things. Think of it as a cool glass of water after months of complicated juice bars and experimental health shakes, that someone has now pissed in and is challenging you to down in one. True: its not going to be for everyone. But some folks think it could both fun and healthy for you.

This Music Leaves Stains: The Complete Story Of The Misfits by James Green JR.

I've been thinking about doing an article about the influence that horror, sci-fi, and similar B-Movie
schlock has had on punk rock - and to a greater extent, rock music as a whole. However James Greene Jr.manages to do such a good job of it in pages 3 to 7 (covering the tradition of dark fantasy theme within rock since it's inception, the unrelenting thirst for content of 60s & 70s USA TV stations pumping the movies out, the move from 40's & 50's ideal lifestyles to economic pressures forcing mothers into the workplace causing more TV viewing by kids, and the kitschy anti-establishment & juvenile escapist joys found within them)... that there really isn't much more to add to his thesis.

As an added bonus, his observations are followed by a full and fully researched history of the progenitors of the Horror Punk genre. Starting with the first musical endeavors of founder member Glen Danzig and working it's way through to the contemporary Jerry Only period of the band, this book uses a combination of the historical record and interviews with an extensive range of members and associates of the troupe. Whilst doing so, it also gives a wider idea of the Misfits place and importance in the history of punk rock as a whole; something that previous works like American Hardcore: A Tribal History have touched on but never truly given the credit owed, due to either the lyrical/performance content of the heavy metal elements of their work not fitting into the established narratives of the genre.

Given the number of people who have gone through it's ranks, and the amount of disagreement over what did or didn't happen (often settled by legal action), the "give everyone's view, and let the reader decide" approach adopted by Greene is a practical solution to a complicated problem. It's also an approach that could leave the reader unsure as to what may have happened, however there is sufficient editorializing opinion thrown in to make it clear where the writer sits on many occasions. This could upset Misfits fans with a strong viewpoint on the personalities involved (which boils down to Danzig Vs Only), but the appreciation shown for the music and performances should avoid alienating all but the most entrenched of fans.

What you mostly get is a clear yet wistful message that if the band hadn't had it's internal rifts, it would never have produced the content it did - but the band could also have been so much more successful than it was. You also get some interesting (and often sarcastically funny) insights into what is involved in writing a book such as this, plus the egos that can continue, decades after the events. Add to this the true story of a band that failed to succeed at the time but became a huge influence to those who followed and the eventual return (of sorts) to the deserved acclaim all of this, helps make this book a great read, be it for fan or soon-to-be fan of the band.

We are still going to lose Eurovision

So a couple of days ago, everyone who thinks that the Eurovision contest is important got all excited about headlines like this one that implied that the Great British Public (known connoisseurs of good musical taste) were actually going to have something to do with the selection of the song that will represent us to Europe. Yup, for a brief few seconds we actually thought that we might get to find and pick a blinder of an act (rather than raid the colonies for a ringer) that could go forth to Johnny Foreigner and show them what the British Music scene has to offer (from a selection of acts that don't want to risk the career suicide of 'nil pois').

Only it's not going to help at all, in any way, due to two major reasons. Firstly, the songs entered (of which I assume there will be many containing nothing but expletives) have to go through the OGAE, i.e. the largest collection of people in this country who have sat through every Eurovision ever, including the secret ones where Wogan started demanding whisky and launch codes. These are people who have bought into the chintz of Eurovision to the point of being willing to spend £15.00 a year in the internet age to get a magazine about one of the most heavily promoted and publicised events out there. They are indoctrinated into and educated in the ways of Eurovision, the voting cycles and the tactics, the politics and the power-plays. Fundamentally, these are the people who would tell Lordi to turn it down or be worried that Conchita Wurst would upset the Russians too much, so the chances of an outsider or oddball choice is instantly gone as they focus on what will get "The Win".

So once anything that is either new, exciting, or edgy (i.e. most of the music coming from anything even vaguely not-top-30) is binned, we get the barrier of  "a professional panel and the public". The first bit sounds nice, but then you remember that professional panels were also why Electro Velvet, Scooch, Daz Sampson, Blue and other such aberrations were allowed to ever be thought "a good thing". Plus, because it'll be on the BBC and thus the decision process will be gunning for TV viewer eyes, it means the panel will include "names" like the git-demon Wil.I.Am, who will be going out of their way to make 'bold decisions' to promote their own agenda, rather than thinking "can we win this?" And then "the public" roll in, specifically the aforementioned TV viewing public. The kind of people who watch the X-Factor or The Voice for "the drama", which basically means someone having a good sob story or being attractive in a trying-hard way. Talent, beyond a certain base level, won't be the issue - it'll be about likeability.

So, after several months of being promised that we might actually win this time and that it's really going to be different, we are going to get something that is scientifically selected to win last year's event, that has been vetted by people more interested in their own next album, and then approved by people who fundamentally wanted to watch Eastenders but with a bit more of a tune. And then folks will wonder why we hit the bottom and ask if we can just bring in a ringer again.

Of course it's easy (and fun) to mock, Eurovision is an easy target for awfulness  But there is a way that this could all be fixed and it's an incredibly easy one: actually let the public decide. Have an open list, have anyone be able to enter a song if they want, and then let people vote directly from that list. Have one big show where you announce the winner if you want, and then have the experts work with them to spruce up whatever it is they are going play to the absolute peak of it's potential (you can make a documentary out of it if you want). But make it actually picked by the public, actually representative of the British Public. Because if we lose, it will be on our own terms - but if we win, it will be something we can actually be proud of for more than five minutes.

Breakout Festival - Brighton Racecourse - 26.09.2015

It's not often you associate Brighton with heavy metal & hard rock, but from going along to the Second annual Breakout Festival it's quite clear that they go together as well as ice-cream and beach walks (well, the type that leave you happy, tired, and somewhat deaf). It's also quite clear from having attended this years event that the organisers know how to operate an efficient band-packed event, and that the local scene is filled to the brim with friendly folk out to have a splendid time of it all. And by "all" I mean 14 bands for the outrageously low price of £27.50 (including booking fee), starting at 10:40 and finishing almost 12 music-soaked and fist-pumped hours later.

Opening up was We Deny, a quality pop-punk outfit that managed to pull people in through a combo of ridiculous amounts of energy for that time of the morning and a clear talent for catchy tunes. It was "light, but filling" in the best of ways, getting my feet tapping and face smiling before the first bite of coffee. Quite frankly, if you're under 25 and have even the slightest interest in being happy about things, then put this on your car stereo and just drive off to adventure.

And, whilst it was impressive being that happy at 10:40am, hats go off to Skint Circus for being so utterly pissed off at 11:20 when they rolled out their thick, sweaty, and highly energetic take on hardcore punk with breakdowns, beatdowns, and throwdown flying over the places almost as much as their singer did. Their lead guitarist didn't move much though, he just stood there in a suit jacket looking unnervingly cool. A band with that much anger has a lot to give, and I look forward to hearing more from them.

Next up was Seething Akira, a band who appear to have bridge the existential gap between Enter Shikari and The Midnight Beast. From their jolly intro of "Hello" to their rave-metal bouncing noise, this was everything you could ask for from a band that have one front man who looks like a young Alan Moore in a Lionel Richie t-shirt and another that you could envision your sister politely introducing to your mother. By song two they were both in the crowd, giving things a runaround - kicking off a moshpit conga line, sneaking a cheeky go on the bouncy castle near the stage, all the time accompanied by blood-pumping party revolution rawk. All of this meant that when they asked the question "Have you all had a nice time?" and gave the quippy "That makes us very happy" after the cheer, it came across as honest rather than affected, and just added to the fun factor that was washing over everyone. They have a single coming out, get it and then try to see them live.

The Gospel Youth had a tough act to follow, and their more laid back, radio friendly, alt-rock approach was a good switch of pace from what had come before. Touches of Gaslight Anthem, the odd bit of Fall Out Boy, mostly just solid rock played in a no nonsense fashion. Whilst their look was the most regimented and sculpted of the day so far they were perfectly willing to just let the music and the lyrics do the work for them, so whilst they didn't get much motion out in the slowly growing crowd there were clearly a lot of ears open taking it all in.

Another set, another change in style, something that seems to be the make of Breakout with a very broad range of the church of rock on display. By Definition were the next brotherhood on display, and they had come to give some very hard lessons on the benefits of blues based, groove heavy, slow and steady heavy rock. It was slow, it was steady, it was raunchy, and it was delivered with the restraint of a grizzly bear. Pretty much instantly everyone in the area started smelling of strong liquor and began tapping their hands, feet, heads, and assorted other appendages as the growling, swirling, bass-to-the-guts overload was hammered out.

Zoax were up next and rapidly pitched their tent as a screamo version of The Pixies with a heavy sound that saw more peaks and valleys than a bus going off the cliff in Wales. They also almost had the same visual impact on the stage at times, as all three of the guitarists were throwing their instruments around with so much abandon their mothers would have been worried someone would lose their whole head. Desperate to the crowd moving, their singer Adam stalked the pit like a demon whilst throwing his heart and lungs into every lyric. Not to sure on the safety of bringing a cabled mic into the thick of it, but no-one got hurt and it certainly added to the drama. Then he came over to the table we were sat at and he pinched my hat, so that's one to tell the Godparents once these guys make it big.

Then, for lack of a better term, Black Tongue happened. They just walked on stage, started playing something that sounded like five doom and death metal tracks all at once, hated everything in front of them for even existing for about half an hour, and then headed off. Occasionally they introduced a song with some horror movie sound track but other than that it was just "bang and gone". They even had a guest vocalist for one track that just walked on, screamed, and headed off. Like it, don't like it: they clearly did not have one fuck to give regards your opinion of what they did. Obviously the people who were into it loved it, whilst everyone else seemed a bit bemused. I'm assuming that was the intention. The only down side to their set was the sound techs not being up to task, as there was feedback and pops through out, which was a shame for an otherwise precision performance.

Representing the kind of  poetic, polemic, and curiously swinging hardcore that seems to grow in London, TRC bounded on with the goal of kicking up a riot and ensuring everyone had fun doing it. It was shouty, it was bouncy, it had riffs and energy you could listen to for days. It also had the line of "If you've got some energy, do it. If not, then get to the gym" and the request for the pit to get "a bit like strictly come dancing". The thrash-ier bits were intense, and all over, it got everyone up for a good time that showed the old school have still got it.



Shunning the simple pleasures of music, like tune or melody or even apparent structure, Heck (aka Baby Godzilla) landed next and dropped out a lot of sounds in about half the time you would think it humanly possible. Some might call it mathcore, or extreme jazz, or "all the notes ever, sometimes twice", or "Cream force-fed Napalm Death from birth"  but mostly it was just an exhilarating exploration of what you can do when you say 'no' to almost every rule ever. I'm not going to claim to understand it, but it was compelling and enjoyable like some intricate puzzlebox, especially with the bands determination to hammer their instruments and play them anywhere other than the stage. It was also impressive to watch as there was no-one obviously holding the songs together, but regardless of how far everyone flew off in which direction it kept on coming back to one central point, Oh yeah, and they hate microphone stands. I saw three of them laid waste in the first track alone.

Martyr Defiled hit the stage next, playing something that sounded halfway between death metal and blastbeat-based hardcore. Sadly the performance almost instantly got hit by bad sound, so nothing came across with as much bite as it should have, in the first track. The sense of terror was further eroded by their vocalist sounding so amiable and friendly when talking between tracks, as someone who sounds that devilish when singing, should not instantly strike you as someone you would share cocoa with. It was technically proficient but the performance side wasn't theatrical or passionate enough to really grab up and hold you in its fist.

Finishing up the last of the daylight were The Qemist, a raging slab of power is pitched halfway between The Prodigy and Pendulum, but with enough of their own sound to not sound like a dodgy knock-off. From the off they had everyone bouncing to their uplifting sounds and welcoming stage presence. A couple of the callouts and platitudes to the crowd may have been a tad bit cheesy, but everyone was smiling too much to be offended and they all knew it was meant well. Still, you can't argue with the crowd and they managed to get a huge response as everyone rocked out to their rebel party anthems.

And then night was upon us, and as the stage lights kicked in We Are The Ocean took the stage and played something halfway between alt-rock and dad-rock. It was good for what it was, including a brave attempt at Dazed and Confused (a fifty year old song for a crowd that was mostly under twenty five), it's just that it was too much of a change from what had gone on before through the day. The crowd dwindled visibly, the cold started to suck at people's energy, and though there were moments that landed some response from those left behind, they never landed well enough to convince me they were the right pick for that point in the day.

When Sikth got on stage there was a resurgence in numbers, mostly from the bar, as this was clearly a band that a lot of people had been looking forward to see. Whilst I wasn't aware of the band before today I can clearly see why people like their brand of prog-metal: it's loud, it's fast, it's filled with virtuosity, and it's almost certain to piss off your parents. It was also a highly energetic and frantic performance, which got picked up by the crowd and resulted in a lot of bodies thrashing around & building up a sweat. Personally I liked the spoken-word piece the most, as it was totally unexpected and yet fitted in perfectly with everything else before and after, and a fair chunk of the audience dug it as well. For a band doing their first gig of the year in September, they had clearly been doing more than just practising their tunes. If you are of the progressive music persuasion, then grab a ticket to whenever they play within travelling distance of you.

The day was drawn to a close by Deaf Havana and their brand of alternative rock, which sadly seemed to miss the mark of what the crowd were after in a similar vein to We Are The Ocean if the madly diminished audience was anything to go by. Those who stayed had a lovely time, listening to some heartfelt tunes and rocking singalongs, but for a lot of people it was either time for bed after an incredibly long day in the sun or just not their thing after the prog-metal blowout that had hit them before.

Still, with that much range and at that price, you can't have everything your way. However, you can have an incredibly well-organised and perfectly sized event, completed by a pleasant crowd and utterly pleasant staff.  They was also the bonus of all the bands hanging out in the audience, so you could be both encouraged that they are actually real people who got up and did it, as well as get the chance to go up and say "thanks for the music". Book your tickets for 2016, because it's going to be worth it.

Overkill Over Analysed

A wise man once said of rock music,
          "Don't analyse it, man. Don't try to understand it, just enjoy it at face value". 

That man was Lemmy of the mighty Motorhead, a band famed for having released possibly the greatest and most well known Heavy Metal track of the last 30 years: The Ace Of Spades. It is a song that has been used to sell things from cars to snack food, a song referenced as a go-to 'look at the long hairs!' sting, and a song they consistently play as the second to last track at each of their shows. It is a great song, but it has overshadowed the song they consistently end on: I refer to the lesser known, often overlooked, and the literally show stopping Overkill.

But why is it such a great song and what is it about it that makes it such a perfect way to end an hour and a half of concert? I wanted to put this into words, because whilst it may look and sound very simple, there is a hell of a lot going on that deserves closer inspection.

First, the intro. Starting on a solid, speedy, hammering drum rift which essentially stays the same through the whole song, we have 16 bars of pure, primal pounding. Nothing flash, kick drums and cymbals laying down a 4/4.  Then the first guitar kicks in for another 16 bars, a bass riff sounding more like a rhythm guitar and made of two notes being hammered away with more boogie than you can find in some pop-'funk' albums. Next spirals in the lead guitar, diving down and joining the bass for another 16 bars of raw rock and roll with a similarly limited set of notes in perfect accompaniment: simplicity given form and drive, an announcement of the power trio in it's most on target glory. To paraphrase Sun Ra: anyone can play it, only a genius can write it. The tune continues, almost without variation, through the first verse and chorus.

"The only way to feel the noise is when it's good and loud"
A straightforward observation on the live music experience, but the usage of "noise" bringing a truth to the levels involved at a Motorhead performance and of the oeuvre of Heavy metal as a whole. Also "when it's good and loud" carries the mixed meaning of the music being of a high standard and the pure quantity of output having a positive quality all of it's own. This is not simple language, this is simple words used as poetry.

"So good I can't believe it, screaming with the crowd"
A line that captures the duality of the concert goer in that you experience it as an individual whilst feeding off everyone else there. It also gives permission to let it all go, to just express emotion in an incoherent level, a rock and roll tradition from the bobby-sock era reborn and given validity. The usage of "I" is important though, as it also bridges the gap between the performer and the audience, bringing them in as a whole. This is a unified experience, the singer working with the people who have come to listen and be an active part of what is happening. The line is critical, as it binds everyone together.

"Overkill, Overkill, Overkill"
A word by itself, perfectly expressing a multitude. Excessive, over what is required, but carrying a certainty of completion with it. Could everything until this point have been laid down quieter, slower, and with more complication? Yes, but it would not have been as good.

Under a minute in and it's time for the first bridge. The backline keeps things as before, but the guitar jazzes things up a bit - however, importantly, not too much. The core sound is still there, the tempo and attack has not restrained or reset itself. It's the musical equivalent of a minute's straight dash, exhausting but exhilarating. And then the second round begins.

"On your feet you feel the beat, it goes straight through your spine"
Motorhead have, on many occasion, held the official title of "worlds loudest band" so this is quite possibly a literal statement of what the audience is experiencing on a purely acoustic level. But the second section also expresses the release and euphoria many feel at such times. The tendency to foot tap to a beat, the urge to do things when highly motivational music comes on, and the endorphins release associated with music as a whole.

"Shake your head"
A clear reference to headbanging, the hallmark of heavy metal fan appreciation, and an extension of the original 'rocking out' that accompanied the earlier hard rock and heavy rock from which Motorhead came (and were the source of the term, as per the "Motorheadbangers" collective noun for their fans).

"You must be dead, if it don't make you fly"
Testament again to the euphoria gained from the live experience, but with more of the synthesis of the event. What will make you fly? Both the music and the engagement with the music. Also a brag as to the uplifting and inclusive nature of what is going on. Only the dead won't be excited by this song, but it is an un-rarefied experience open to all.

"Don't sweat it, Give it back to you"
There is no need to worry, the band will give unto the audience as well as the audience giving unto them. Again, the experience is not one way, or even two way. This is a group effort - a social event.

"Don't sweat it, Give it back to you"
Seriously guys, we're all going to have a great time.

"Overkill, Overkill, Overkill"
Further restatement of the overall impact of what is happening, and the set up to the second bridge. This time the lead guitar is a bit more wild, a bit more free. But still the backline is locked in tight, unbreaking at the minute and a half mark - then be rejoined at the two minute point for another couple of rounds of the main hook, before the final set of lyrics

"Know your body's made to move. Feel it in your guts"
No instruction on how you should move, but pure license to move in any manner you want. By now you should be lifted, you should be elated, and on a primal level you will be acting how you see fit. Action is the key, to what end is down to the individual.

"Rock 'n' roll ain't worth the name, if it don't make you strut"
A key line, possibly the most important and certainly worthy as the finishing statement. This is Rock & Roll, pure and simple. This is Blues, bubbled through fifty years and mutated through a Marshall stack, but it's rock and roll - and it needs to make you feel good. This is a gauntlet thrown down to others, this is a testament to everything you have heard in the show and it is the final closing endorsement of all previous markers highlighted in the song. Right here, right now, this is how rock and roll makes you. Anything else is a shame - accept no substitutes.

"Don't sweat it, get it back to you
Don't sweat it, get it back to you
OVERKILL, OVERKILL, OVERKILL"
A re-enforcement of the above, a final sing along of passion, a final one word chant that carries volumes with efficiency.

Lyrics sung, we have the finale. The guitarist is let loose, unrestrained but still running with the pack, darting around the unstoppable force of the drums and bass. They have done so little but it has filled vast voids, given the six-stringer the backing needed to highlight and carry it's work. Then the first tempo change, the first deviation from the last 180 seconds of breakneck rocking. Things slow, the notes are fewer, the cymbals are pounded in the classic marker that it is all done. Slightly over the regulation 3 minutes for a pop-song, but still on form for a classic.

But wait, it was a ruse! The drums start again, the same loop and the same pressure. We are literally back to the start of the song, as all the parts fill in again for another round. A second rush of steam, although with a more intense guitar lead from the off. Unleashed, unbound, unburdened by needs for words. You know everything there is to know about what will happen now, there is no need for communication as all there is is understanding. The band are off, the audience are off, it's pell-mell to the real finishing line! One last huzzah, one more minute of life at it's best. Then over, done, spent.

...Not really. It's called "Overkill", not "just enough". The pounding starts again, the engine now running on empty. The band gave it their all, the listener gave it their all, how can anything else be dragged up? Well, it is rock and roll so we best get going with it even if we are running on fumes. The bass and the lead are more urgent, still working the core tune like sirens going off. Rabid and exhausted, the song almost doubled in length from anything that previously seemed the requirement. And then, finally, a ridiculous five minutes after it all began, the actual conclusion of the song that has left you shattered and unable to go any further.

Although, with the live version - it does. The band leaves the stage, but their instruments continue though strength of pure feedback, the music no longer needing to be anything but literal force and presence. The wash over the crowd is total, nothing can be heard other than the aftermath of what has come before, a post orgasmic chill that can continue under its own existence, an adrenaline rush given musical form. You have survived, you have experienced - and you are going to have it ringing in your ears for days, as the concert, the rock and roll explosion, continues to be a part of your life from there on.

Ace of Spades is the classic, it's is the jab that startles and delights, but like all "one, two" combos, it is the second blow that floors you - and that does the real work.

Bad Magic - Motörhead

If a 69 year old man with a walking stick walked up to you in the street and yelled "Victory or Die" in your face you would. most likely, be worried. When Lemmy does it at the start of Motörhead's twenty-third album it just sends a shiver down your spine and locks you in for fourty-two minutes of high-speed rock and roll. That the album entered the charts at Number 10 in the UK (and similar high ranking elsewhere) is a testament to both the recognition that the band have achieved for being one of the true underground legends of rock and roll. and of the raw quality of the album itself.

Of the songs there is not much more that can be said than "the worlds finest speed-freak rock-and-roll", which is like saying "Mozart just did good classical music" or "Jimi Hendrix could play a tune". It's four-bar blues through Marshall amps, songs about love and sex and death and everything in between, and you're supposed to feel it rather than intellectualise or 'understand' it. Fundamentally if this video doesn't put a smile on your face and make you go "that's me when no-one is looking, that is!" then don't bother (and, possibly, radically reassess your ability to enjoy life).

On top of that the stand out tracks for me were Fire Storm Hotel, which was AC/DC with the engine in the red, Electricity, which sounded had their 80's era proto-thrash grind, and Teach Them to Bleed that has so much boogie to it you could see Elvis giving it a shot. There was also Till The End, the slowest of the collection and also the one most likely to bring a tear to your eye because it seems to be the lyrical explanation of Lemmy's stubborn refusal to take a break and not die on stage. The finishing cover of Sympathy For The Devil is also rather good, and shows off the raw musical talents of the whole band. Who knows, maybe Keith Richards will show up at one of their shows and join in on it; after all Brian May joined them for Overkill and does guitars on The Devil for this album so anything is possible.

Whilst it's pointless to argue if it's their finest album (tradition says it always either "the first one I heard" or "Ace of Spades") it's mighty addition to their catalogue and, given Lemmy's recent health problems, if it's the last one they play live it will be a fitting final blast.

The Decline of Western Civilisation Collection

Over the course of 17 years, Penelope Spheeris has created arguably one of the greatest and most influential music documentary series ever. Set in Los Angeles and covering the punk scene of the late 70s, the heavy metal scene on mid 80s, & the gutter-punk scene at the turn of century, it explores the sound, performance, politics and business, that exist around each of these worlds and times. It's style was naturalistic, inquisitive, unobtrusive, and at times brutally honest, which was eloquent and effective enough to eventually become part of the DNA of everything that has followed - with clear impact on Reality TV and the rockumentaries of MTV & VH1.

At the core of each film is, fittingly, live performances which are used as showcases for the scenes by giving equal focus for those on stage and off. The style is naturalistic, observational, and intriguing as anthropological documents. They also sound great, even if not all of the bands presented are actually that good. Interspersed with this are interviews with a broad range of individuals involved: musicians, fans, promoters, businessmen and police/authority figures giving the scene outsider/"every-man" view of it all. The iconic set of the blank wall with a single, bare light-bulb hanging at head-height is used extensively, evocative and beautifully simple as it allows the focus to be directly on the individual and their words. Being set in LA it also has plenty of car-based drive-along interviews, which provide the bulk of representation of the city outside of the venues or scene-controlled spaces, giving impressive visual insight into the urban environment that helped shaped the action of the piece. It also demonstrates how super-imposed the scenes are, hyper-stylized worlds pushed up against the realities of everyone else's everyday lives.

Although unified in style and approach, the content of the three is distinct and unique, giving each the flavour they merit. Part 1 has the largest variety of musical styles and shows a scene carving its way into the wider world on it's own terms and with a new sensibility of DIY. Part 2 shows a more homogeneous visual and musical approach and people unapologetically chasing financial success that the other two don't even think about as a possibility or goal, and Part 3 presents a nihilistic and often harrowing focus of fans living a vagrant life which they see no reason to attempt escaping.  Through all this, the topics stay the same: sex, drugs, rock and roll, what will youth be doing in 5 years, is it all worth it, if the goal is art of money, and how people enter into the tribes that they have aligned themselves with. But the changes in the answers are telling, the reasons and motivations changing in each era.

Picking a favourite or "best" is impossible, as each is it's own story. Part 3 is easily the most emotionally upsetting, dealing as it does with homeless under 18's who have basically given up on life as a concern and with 2 deaths happening among those interviewed whilst the "lucky kid" is someone in a wheelchair as they get to have a flat. Part 2 is the most entertaining, with the glam extravagance and heavy metal stupidity being instantly comedic. Part 1 tells the most optimistic story and has the widest range of motivations to be explored.

But the key thing is that these are three fantastic social history documents that are able to carry the interest of anyone who watches it, regardless of their opinions of the music being explored, as they go beyond the successes or failures of individual artists or the benefits or durability of a scene. They are regularly considered classics of the musical-documentary genre because it's something that no-one else thought about capturing, and they have been captured with care, attention and consideration. They offer an insight into real, relatable people, and not just three rocking concert soundtracks.