Crud World Domination Enterprises give you
Propagandhi
11/12/06 First
Floor Club, Derby
17/12/06 Barfly, Liverpool
Review n pix by MWJ
Xmas, I always seem to be
treating myself. For some reason there
always seems to be a particular band on the road in December that merits a
special trip, or just turns out to be an unexpected highlight of the year. Recent years that has been Dalek, Neurosis, Strapping
Young Lad, The Berzerker, Cult of Luna, you know, all those household names
you’ve come to love ;-) This year seems
set to be another festive festie of fun.
I think, some 5 years ago, half
a write up of my trip to see Propagandhi at the Irish Centre in Birmingham was
my first efforts at reviewing and probably came because of the sheer explosive
inspirational and motivational energy that it brought about, the need to
contribute and share. At the time
though I think I hardly knew how to express just how all encompassing the
experience was, which is why it may never have seen the light, I struggle again
now.
So, a fair few years and in the
meantime a lot has happened. They take
their time with stuff, quality over quantity, and have released another album
“potemkin city limits” which, exactly like their last one, at first sits
uncomfortably with its convoluted progressive thrash/melodic punk structures
and dense lyrics. But, again, it grows
on you relentlessly like MRSA. They’ve also undergone the drastic change of
losing founder member guitarist/vocalist Chris, apparently due to his
deteriorating behaviour in relation to people in general plus an obsession with
tracking alien activity, stealing money and rubbing his genitals on band mates
pillows. His replacement Glen has been
criticised for trying to hard to sound like his forebear, which isn’t
surprising, seeing as it is actually still the same person and this is just a
piss-take they ran with for a couple of years (before kickin him out again!),
suckering many including me and summing up their complete rejection of rawk
conventions and non-pursuit of fame. A
lot has happened in the world too and more than any band I know Propagandhi
dissect to the core of the rotten apple we human maggots live on/in, and adds
so much value to me in taking the opportunity to add meaning to entertainment,
focus to diversion.
My first time at this venue in
Derby, a big open space room upstairs in a concrete retail block. Find out it is sold out just like their
London gig was, they’ve deliberately booked themselves into smaller venues, all
the better for the atmosphere. I pass the time chatting to an international
relations expert who’s been passing on the bands musings to his former
lecturers, who else is doing charged ballads with balanced viewpoints on the
Arab-Israeli conflict? There’s a fair
few lonely travellers apparent among the rapidly filling place, they remain an
elusive but committed appeal, their uncompromising left-righteous attitudes
evoking polar reactions.
Quite what was going on with the
support bands I don’t know, maybe it was just to make the contrast and the
headliners seem even better not that that would be required. First we had a DVD projection, playgrounds
and aerobic classes to break beat techno and then a very literal visualisation
of “Bohemian rhapsody”. Thanks for
that. Then another unlisted band,
consisting of a singer and a drummer, playing along to distorted Casio stuff in
an emo-punk way. They outstayed their
welcome too. I can think of loads of
tremendous bands, such as Stuntface, who’d have bitten of their left bollock
for a support slot so why these gained the opportunity I honestly don’t know.
No worries, mere time filling,
as did my lemonade consumption and debates with the lady on the Animal
Liberation stall on how much was fair to pay to expect change etc…
I moved on up to the front, a
perhaps unnecessarily long delay (to fit in with show timings?) would have
annoyed on many other occasions but no way could I be bothered with that
emotion, I was EXCITED.
Eventually they’re on stage, cut
off jeans and sports socks style, welcoming introductions, the first
recognisable picked guitar notes then it’s into the current album opener “a
speculative fiction”, that speculation being on war between their native Canada
and that most annoying of neighbours, including one of the triggers being “your
stupid fucking laser-pucks were just the start”. After first decreeing that
there could be a new iron curtain across the 49th parallel they’re
then smashing the boundaries with the raging, universal “Fuck the Border”, the
vocals alternating between Chris and Todd the bassist depending on who’s penned
the songs, both providing backing along with Jord the drummer and new
additional guitarist “The Beaver”, who has added an excellent subtle melodic
line to the structures.
The combination of fantastic
lyric lines with the intense music brings to mind the Misfits as my lungs
strain whilst trying to maintain a breathing space in the mosh and crush never
mind sing a long and dodge crowd surfers.
They don’t rely on repeated hooks though; they cram loads of information
and incredibly poetic imagery in, and are genuinely pleased so many people
audibly appreciate their efforts. Often
they effortlessly combine personal and trivial with global and vital, I
genuinely aspire to come anywhere close to conveying messages as they do. “Rock for Sustainable Capitalism” (“when did
punk rock become so safe?”) slags off their label boss Fat Mike (Fat records/NoFX),
the “fucking fat-ass mo-hawk millionaire prances around by far the worst
sausage party on earth”( the democratic convention, accruing publicity for the
{failed} punkvoter campaign). How on
earth do you get “sausage party” into a song and make it seem right? “Mate Ka
Moris Ukun Rasik An” has Chris saying “around the same time that I was riding
with no hands, busting windows and getting busy behind the sportsplex (with Labonte's
older sister decked out in her Speedos), Bella was flinching from the sting of
a Depo Proveran “family planning”” as they pay tribute to an East Timorese
activist enduring forced sterilization under the West-sanctioned Indonesian
occupation, “Bringer of Greater Things”, apparently Canadian police are still
dropping native Americans off miles from anywhere in -40 degree temperatures, a
horrible reflection of the historical genocides.
They are earnest in their
between songs banter, including the “3 cheers , Pincohet’s dead”, and before
“Life At Disconnect” hitting the nail on the head when pointing out that the
country so obsessed with the impact of immigration has done more to affect the
world through colonial emigration than most, and their pleasure in the
encouragement in getting through another grinding day on tour gives us the
reward of “this thrasher” – “Back to the Motor League”(a former employer). So many other storming reasoned tirades, “Today’s
Empires, Tomorrow’s Ashes”, “Less Talk, More Rock”, “Stick the Fucking Flag Up
Your Goddamn Ass”, and a brief and welcome slow, skanking reggae interlude of
“Haille Sellasse, Up Your Ass” leads to the closer “Iteration”. This also bookends the set and the album
nicely, and couldn’t be much more topical as it again offers a speculation on
just how apt a punishment could be arranged for the recently “retired” Rumsfeld
could be arranged, perhaps clearing landmines for life?
The song has a drawn out ending,
accompanying “inevitable waves of change” which winds things up nicely,
allowing all a brief break before the encore, “Die Jugend Marschiert” and “The
Purina Hall of Fame”, again ending in soaring melodies with the virtual spoken
word, thoughtful, “it’s not your fault, there’s nothing you can do”. That may well be the case, we can decide that
or avoid and ignore any decision for as long as possible. Yet again though stuff like this drives me
on, first stop to at least commercially show support to the band through the
purchase of a fair trade organic cappuccino (coloured) t-shirt!
After a full-on
metaaaaaaalllllllll interlude I’m greedily back for more, like a kid who tears
through his xmas presents then goes “is that it?”. Though I’m still bruised and drained from Monday, like the
lightweight I am. The again sold
attendance puts to shame the meagre showing for my last visit to the Barfly
with the Young Gods. Full of faces and
friends from our corner of the country, everyone anticipating, I wasn’t as
excited initially having only had a 5 day instead of 5 year break in seeing
them, but fair play much more sensible support bands got the atmosphere revved
up.
Crocodile God, apparently
recently reformed Liverpool band, fast paced 2-4 minute punk songs with tons of
melody a la The Buzzcocks, excellent bass and grateful for “getting a slot that
every punk band in the north west wanted”, The Lief Ericson, bit more generic
4-way gravelly shout along with strong choruses, SSS again, obviously
benefiting from promoting the gigs themselves to get this slot but deserving it
too. Only Halloween since I’d last seen
them and it’s similarly berserk skate-punk intensity. Lots of funny anti-xmas banter and bargain gifts.
A similar reaction welcomes the
headliners on stage, they have a bizarre little “ringmaster style” intro from
their tour manager. The set is
virtually the same as Monday, but it’s really only by the fourth track in, the
older “…and we thought that nation states were a bad idea” (succinct, eh?) that
folks really start tearing things up. That said, things are not quite as mental
as Derby but that is only in relative terms. Todd seems to be delivering his
songs with even more passion than ever, really raging or using up all remaining
energies for this last night of the tour.
They have taken particular exception to the promoters thoughtless/random
gig poster featuring violence to a woman (no doubt for eye-catching appeal) so
put “Refusing to be a Man” into the set to restate their case as if there was
any doubt. Despite exhorting the crowd
to put in chants worthy of getting more songs they wind up with the same,
hanging round to enjoy the moment before their return to the “icy wastes, where
(they) probably belong”
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