The wonderfully named 9 O’Clock Nasty claim to be “broken people, and we are making art as we fall apart.” You and I both. I often feel like a broken-down scribbler trying to mine the occasional rich musical seam I find in a sonic wasteland, who then shouts about it into the void. We are probably well suited to each other.
It makes sense that this is music from another place, or perhaps a dark, shadow aspect of our own world, the titular Crowland, because the songs found here sound so wonderfully other, avoiding the fickle fad and fashion of the real world and wandering the sort of apocalyptic glamour-punk paths that the likes of The Cramps or The Gun Club reveled in. Only, totally of the now, too, a blend of stomping analog glam-anthems (glamthems?) and delicious digital adventure, classic moves and modern grooves…or perhaps, vice versa.
After “Crowland” itself sets the tone like “The Sweet” trying their hand at hip-hop—and it is better than I make that sound, much better – the band wanders all over the anarchic fringes of the musical map. They play with growling post-punk poise with “Smash Grab and Go,” which doesn’t sound unlike “The Fall” ‘s more accessible moments. Dirge-disco-punk in the form of “Bad Vegan” and “Coliseum’s” sleazy, low-slung garage rock apocalyptic boogie! And that is just the tip of the iceberg, but such is the creativity and adventurous spirit, not to mention the feeling of disenfranchisement and rebellion, that it is best you just jump on board and see where the album takes you.
And the message? Well, it might be, “Just because there are monsters under the bed, doesn’t mean that you can’t point and laugh at them” …just try not to elect them President….damn, too late. Something like that, anyway.
Fifteen choice sonic cuts, all with something to say, all standing on their own two feet, each good enough to be sent out into the world as a single or maybe a sort of “we know where you live” sonic threat. All killer, no filler…as the kids used to say. And why? Because all the songs that didn’t make the grade are buried in a landfill site just outside Leicester… apparently.
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