Crass - Penis Envy

Formed in 1977, Crass were undeniably the genuine article. An anarcho-punk rock group from the United Kingdom, they never signed to a major label, instead opting to release their work independently on their own label. And really, what’s more punk than learning the ins-and-outs of distribution to subvert the very system you turned your back on. After releasing the Feeding Of The Five Thousand and Stations Of The Crass in 1979, we arrive on Valentine’s Day 1981 with the blank stare of a Teenage Doll greeting us with open… mouth. Penis Envy is a very big departure for the band in many respects. Gone are the usual angry male vocals provided by Steve Ignorant, with Eve Libertine (and Joy De Vivre on one listed track) taking the helm in his place. At this point in the band’s career, the girls of the band were utilized for backing vocals exclusively, so having them front an entire album was a bold move. The question is: did it pay off?

From the opening of “Bata Motel,” we’re greeted by a very familiar Crass formula, with a sample followed by the most beautiful noise you’ve ever heard. Libertine’s vocal captures the deranged masochism and anger of the song perfectly, the drum work is a perfect backdrop to this meltdown caught on tape, and the guitar work by Phil Free, Pete Wright, and Andy Palmer just mesh into a rock-solid wall to slam into. I would be remiss to leave out the best part of the song (and the album in general): the pull-no-punches lyrics. Penis Envy is one of punk rock’s defining documents in my eyes, and a lot of that has to do with the lyrics and their delivery. On the very first track, we get a glimpse into the not-so-distant world of sexual abuse, submission, and the roles women play in society. The entire runtime of the album is about breaking these bonds and fighting right back. Its existence makes everyone uncomfortable, which is how you know it’s working:

“You force-hold me above the ground

I can't get away, my feet are bound

So I'm bound to say

That I'm bound to stay”

“Systematic Death” sprints through the lives of various people and how from birth to death, we are just cogs in the machine. The little boys and girls are groomed to be the little workingman and housewife of tomorrow, depicting the lives we lead with almost-frightening precision:

"Poor little fuckers, what a sorry pair

Had their lives stolen, but they didn't really care

Poor little darlings, just your ordinary folks

Victims of the system and its cruel jokes!"

One of the album’s highest points is the 7-minute “What The Fuck?,” a brooding, atonal rant concerning the mistreatment of Earth and its resources. In less trustworthy hands, this could have been unbearable, but within what seems to be a cacophony is one of the most entrancing listens of the 1980s. More so than any Crass album following or prior to this one, Penis Envy captures a visceral disgust that most anyone can understand. While it does paint the band stressing the importance of environmentalism quite well, the main attraction is the song’s attack on the unfeeling greed some feel while doing just that:

"But would you see the fire in the world where you exist?

Will your hard eyes register the pain?

Are you so cold that there is no distress?

Where there’s death would you give death again?"

Crass, being the shapeshifting beast that they are, complement their lyrics with tunes ranging from the pounding speeds of “Where Next Columbus?” and “Smother Love” to the African-influenced-stylings of “Berkertex Bribe” to even a bout in an uncharacteristically frail-sounding melody with “Health Surface,” which melds with Joy De Vivre’s wispy delivery until the song springs to life towards the very end.

The album culminates on the last track, which was originally not listed on the album. The song is convincing. If you were to isolate this track and separate it from the album, you might not even notice how conniving and cheeky it is. In fact, that’s very much what happened back in 1981, when popular romance magazine Loving had a giveaway for a flexi disk called “Wedding Song,” provided to them by a group by the name of Creative Recording And Sound Services. Yes indeed, Joy De Vivre’s heavenly voice was so convincing, they fooled a magazine and their readers into thinking she was being genuine. The harmless pranks of an anarchist group, no harm done.

No, of course there was harm done. Of course there was outcry, of course people were outraged by the album’s title (despite it being a reference to Sigmund Freud’s famous, if not outdated, terminology), and of course Crass and many other punk bands at the time faced consequences for putting their controversial art on display for all to see. But again, that’s what it was meant to do. Penis Envy was made solely because of how much unrest it would prompt. It’s a living, breathing document in punk and feminism whose message of unrest still holds true today. As disappointing as that may be, use this album as your fuel just like Crass and their fans did so long ago. Get mad. Get upset. This is the change that needs to happen and it’s not going to happen in your wedding gown meekly saying “I do.”

Crass - The Feeding Of The 5000

Originally released in 1978 on the great UK label, Small Wonder, Feeding The 5000 was subsequentially reissued in 1979 on Crass Records in a fold out poster sleeve and re titled, The Feeding Of The 5000 (The Second Sitting). From the moment you fold out the sleeve to reveal the decaying hand of a dead soldier caught on barbed wire under the sarcasm of 'Your Country Needs You' you know they will deliver their attacks with power and wit. The Feeding Of The 5000 is an absolutely unique and enduring classic punk album. Crass spat out their messages with a rabid power and excitement unmatched by the majority of more mainstream punk bands at least one of which they openly despise on this release. Crass is ferocious music and they stake their claim as absolute leaders in the 1977 era punk explosion. Their far left stance finds Crass spewing out anthems addressing class warfare, social hypocrisy, organized religion, and punk rock itself with serious venom. It's not without humour at times, either, as on the famous chorus, "Do they owe us a living? Of course they fucking do!" (A lyric sheet, always an essential item for Crass releases, is provided.) Check out "Banned from the Roxy". Steve Ignorant is in total command of his indictment of government and their protection of the rich or hypocritical music promoters with the line 'Do they think guitars and microphones are just fucking toys?' "Punk Is Dead", another indictment, this one against the punk movement in general, singling out The Clash and Sex Pistols as sell outs. The most enduring piece, actually, had relatively little to do with punk rock: On "Asylum," the spoken female voice delivers a vitriolic attack on Christianity over disquieting guitar feedback.

Profane it might be but profanity delivered with such menace, verve and vitriolic wit is always a pleasure...it’s just that these days we have forgotten how important it is to enjoy it this way.

Crass - Nagasaki Nightmare 7”

Nagasaki Nightmare has a dark beat that evolves around certain Japanese instruments as well as British noises. Protip #1: If you’re a serious-minded Anarchist punk band recording an earnest and heartfelt single about the horrors of Nagasaki, it would probably be best if you don’t record your vocals using vaguely racist pseudo-Japanese accents. The track is an 8-minute-long nightmare of a tune that grates like a spiked wristband on a chalkboard, but I think that was partly the intent - to administer at least a tiny portion of the pain that happened at Nagasaki (and Hiroshima). Protip #2: Actually, it would probably be best if you just don’t record vocals using vaguely racist pseudo-Japanese accents under any circumstances. Big A, Little A...is a brilliant and catchy (for Crass) track that I can still sing/cough/splutter along with some 43 years after first listening to it. Protip #3: Big A, Little A rules. It's got a great chorus, a wonderfully forceful performance from Steve Ignorant, and a set of bass-lines so solid you could murder a fisherman with them!!?? Buy it! Better still; acquire it somehow, preferably in a way that undermines the government!

Bloody Revolutions/Persons Unknown

‘Bloody Revolutions’ is the ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ of anarcho-punk. Around the central musical, and symbolic, motif of La Marseillaise, this 6 minutes and 24 seconds packs in five distinct musical movements, linked only by lyrical content. After an initial collage of sound, comes the dull thud of monotone bass and drum over which Steve Ignorant intones, “You talk about your revolution, well, that’s fine /But what are you going to be doing come the time? / Are you going to be the big man with the tommy-gun?”  There is little question that this is a reference to The Clash’s ‘Guns of Brixton’ and ‘Tommy Gun’ although only later in the song does it become apparent that it is also a critique of their perceived posturing. But Crass are far more concerned with wider issues than mere rock star ‘revolutionaries.’ Not for them, the adoption of left wing credentials: ‘Bloody Revolutions’ is an attempt to put a metaphorical bomb under the notion of left wing revolution. Just like Crass themselves, ‘Bloody Revolutions’ is an unholy mess and yet it somehow works. Within the confines of a pop song, there is an intelligent argument posited whether you agree with it or not. The shouty, barking, male lead is counterbalanced by a beautiful femininity. And whatever you think of Crass’ politics, they put their money where their mouths were. From the proceeds of this single, they established the Wapping Autonomy Centre as a central meeting place and venue for anarchists. The fact this closed due to the disagreements of the different factions of anarchists only highlights the naive idealism at the heart of this band.

At a time when female visibility in bands was generally restricted to the glamorous and young, Vi Subversa, formed Poison Girls in her mid-forties. With a honeyed voice that has echoes of Marianne Faithfull, Lesley Woods and Eartha Kitt, Vi uses the phrase ‘Persons Unknown’ to encapsulate all ordinary people whom the authorities may choose to brand with that nomenclature: “Housewives and prostitutes / Plumbers in boiler suits / Truants in coffee bars /Who think you’re alone.”  The suggestion is that any of us could end up like Bennett and Mills, accused of a crime we did not commit and vilified by press and government. Throughout the song, Subversa makes the point that society encourages people to live lives of isolation making it easier for the authorities to exercise control: “Habits of hiding /Soon will be the death of us /Dying in secret from poisons unknown.” The only response to this is to try to reclaim power from the state by not being scared to speak out about what we feel is right: “Survival in silence / Isn’t good enough no more /Keeping your mouth shut / Head in the sand.” The music is swaying, circular, woozy: it reminds me of the music of a carousel, albeit a carousel powered by electric guitars. In the course of the song, Subversa covers the whole gamut of society from “accountants in nylon shirts” to “cleaners of lavatories” but, above all, it is a call to arms challenging each and every one of us to cast aside the social conventions imposed by the state that shackle us: “Flesh and blood is who we are / Flesh and blood are what we are /Flesh and blood is who we are /Our cover is blown….”

by theartyassassin

Stations Of The Crass

Stations Of The Crass is the second album by Crass, released at a time when right-wing National Front leaders and working class Oi! bands were using punk rock as a medium for their xenophobic message. Originally pressed as a double 12” in 1979, the record includes live tracks from a gig recorded at the Pied Bull pub in Islington, London on August 7, 1979. The first three sides contain the studio tracks and play at 45 rpm, while the final side comprises the live material and plays at 33 rpm. Crass countered the xenophobic trend with seething rage, wicked wit, and a potent musical attack that spurned punk's pub-rock origins for harder and faster chaos. The album's title is not only a pun on the Catholic rite of the Stations of the Cross (such jibes against the religious establishment were typical of Crass), but is also a reference to the graffiti campaign that the band had been conducting around London's Tube system, the album cover artwork depicting a wall at Bond Street tube station that had allegedly been 'decorated' by the band. The follow up to The Feeding Of The 5000, this offering finds them delivering furious anti-capitalist sentiments on a bed of guitar and bass designed to deliver an uncompromising message. Although the album met mixed critical reception at first, it managed to sell at least 20,000 copies within two weeks.

"They said that we were trash/Well the name is Crass, not Clash." So goes the opening of the coruscating "White Punks on Hope," and with “Stations” Crass takes things to an even more vicious level than on “Feeding”. The opening yelps and screams from Ignorant on "Mother Earth" over a slow-building burn show that there was already much more to Crass than simple crash and bash punk, and with the rest of the album the collective moves between full-on assault and an ever increasing agit-snarl experimentation. Originally released as two vinyl discs, the conclusion of the second consists of a live show in Islington the summer of 1979, with the band tearing through new and old cuts with passion, including such fierce anthems as "Do They Owe Us a Living?" and "Shaved Women." The studio tracks, including versions of some cuts from the live show, all come from a one-day session four days after the concert and while some tracks are almost fragments, surprisingly things aren't as constantly monochrome or as rushed as one might think. Whether stripping things down to dub-tinged bass, drums, and repetitive guitar snarls or blends of staccato rhythms and found-sound noise (or even, on "Walls," trying a bit of disco), Crass creates a unique brand of fierce, inspirational music. Libertine and De Vivre make impressive cameos alongside Ignorant's lead vocals, making the perfect argument through performance that passion trumps technical skill when the chips are down. The sheer amount of issue tackling and blunt speaking throughout ranges from political statements of purpose over every aspect of the status quo to relentless self-examination. One running attack against the band was always that their words were better read than listened to, but hearing the seething hatred projected by Ignorant on "Big Man, Big M.A.N." is enough to convince one otherwise. One of the funniest tracks is the vivisection of music press figure Garry Bushell, "Hurry Up Garry," which uncannily predicts his eventual descent into right-wing tabloid idiocy.

Ned Raggett