Subhumans - The Day the Country Died / From the Cradle to the Grave (Southern)
3/5
I knew nothing about Subhumans, but as soon as these 2 LPs dropped through the letterbox on a Monday morning wistful of a weekend past, I could tell what they were about. Everything about them screams disillusionment, screams the Thatcherite 80s, screams a group spitting in dying embers of both the 60s revolution and the visceral thirst for change from punk's first wave. From the group's name to the cover art to the track titles - 'All Gone Dead', 'Big Brother', 'I Don't Wanna Die' and 'Where's the Freedom?' to name a few - an air of overwhelming bleakness pervades before you've even heard the first spiky chord.
And this music is perfect recession listening (perhaps why these albums have been re-released at such a seemingly strange moment - 26 years after their initial outings, the band is currently playing sparsely in Europe and the news page of their website hasn't been updated for a good 32 months). All bar two of the 16 songs from debut The Day the Country Died clock in well under 3 minutes, and the message bludgeoned at you from all angles is not subtle. The liner and sleeve are a mass of black and white THINKs, whilst every lyric is delivered with a glob of tuneless bile from vocalist "Dick".
"No I don't believe in Jesus Christ/My mother died of cancer when I was five." "No I don't believe in the system/Cos nothing it does makes sense to me." "You're just part of what I despise."
And that's all from one song.
From the Cradle to the Grave carries on in much the same way, although things here are slightly more considered than on their previous effort, including the sixteen-minute behemoth of a title track that ends the record. Lyrically, too, there's a tad more going on, even introspection on 'Reality is Waiting For a Bus' ("There's an A sign on the bus stop wall/But it's very hard to relate/The bus to work to keep in line/So who's gonna smash the state?")
All in all, these records speak for themselves - blunt, lumbering and aggressive, every slashed string and clattering beat (drums by "Trotsky", my favourite thing about the group) is cut through with hatred. Subhumans aren't big, but they are clever - they know what they do is ultimately futile, and it weighs heavily on their music, with the group trying to squeeze out every last drop of impotent rage in their self-imposed time restraints. These albums are flawed, to be sure, but their influence is so apparent that one cannot afford to ignore them - especially now, as a resurrection of Subhuman values may be closer than we think.
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