Therapy? - A Rough Guide

If you didn't go through your teenage years in the early-to-mid 1990s you probably don't know who Therapy? are, and that's a real shame. Let's just take a moment to reflect on how remiss you have been getting through life so far without them.

Here's a belt. Feel free to flagellate yourself thoroughly.

All done? Lovely. Now while you're mopping the blood off the walls, have a listen to the following tunes.

Therapy? started as a threepiece in Belfast at the sodden arse-end of the 1980s, fuelled by industrial punk nightmares and feverish European electronic sensibilities. Their first two mini-albums, 1991's "Babyteeth" and 1992's "Pleasure Death" are obviously influenced by the likes of Big Black and The Jesus Lizard - but they manage to be somehow denser and more claustrophobic, melodic punk whistled through a serial killer's broken front teeth. Andy Cairns' vocals are a death threat overheard on a busy street, while Michael McKeegan's pulsating bass underpins everything else like a twisted disco beat.

Therapy? - 'Innocent X' - 1991 - from "Babyteeth"

Their first full album followed soon after, and loosens up the metronome drum patterns ever so slightly, letting the songs breathe out in the open. Raw buzzsaw guitars and distant wailing vocals are still the formula, but the end result is ever so slightly more friendly. But the unhinged dementia is still waiting in the wings, a squealing mental breakdown all the more terrifying for being hidden in the open.

Therapy? - 'Teethgrinder' - 1992 - from "Nurse"

And then everything changed. A series of EPs and singles were followed in 1994 by "Troublegum", which might just be the greatest pop-punk record ever recorded. Packed to the gills with melody, soaring choruses and infectious riffs, all of the torment and nihilism here were embedded firmly in the lyrics rather than edging their way clear into torturous music. At its heart, it isn't any lighter an LP than Therapy?'s early work. It's just better at covering the scars with brightly coloured balloons and manic smiles. Modest chart success followed for the likes of 'Screamager', 'Nowhere' and 'Die Laughing', and some high profile festival slots and tours put the word around that the band were maybe going to make it bigger than one could have expected from an oddball industro-punk squall from Northern Ireland.

Therapy? - 'Screamager' - 1994 - from "Troublegum"

So they changed everything, pretty much. Why not? Stagnation is a killer. The very next year "Infernal Love" hit the shelves, and while many of their newly acquired fanbase were put off by a record that slotted in an uncomfortable art-rock wet dream for every summer-bright pop tune, it is a record that stands firmly as their second best work. With the benefit of hindsight from the salty shores of 2014, it's a classic. But back then, the fickle UK music press and even more fickle alternative rock fans met it with a lukewarm response at best. But it's the sound of a band maturing and undergoing massive nihilistic trauma at the same time, and who doesn't want that in their life?

Therapy? - 'A Moment Of Clarity' - 1995 - from "Infernal Love"

Changes followed, as they often do in the midst of turbulence. Founding drummer Fyfe Ewing departed the band, taking his staccato rhythms with him. As well as replacing him with Graham Hopkins, they also incorporated Martin McCarrick on cello and guitar. A fourpiece for the first time, this more traditional rock band lineup resulted in a more traditional punk rock sound. 1998's "Semi-Detached" was to lay down a blueprint for the many variations in their sound that have followed since, as a raw garage vibe was laid across most of the tracks. Less pop, more punk.

Therapy? - 'Church Of Noise' - 1998 - from "Semi-Detached"

This raw punk aesthetic was pumped up even further for 1999's "Suicide Pact - You First", which was a fuzzy battleground of growling cynicism sprinkled with the occasional melancholy escape hatch - such as the superb 'Six Mile Water', which is solid proof that they should write an alt. country record at some point. The LP also seemed to mark a turning point in Therapy?'s career, which shifted inexorably towards a lack of interest from the press and survival primarily through a ferociously loyal (though smaller) fanbase. That's the story for the UK, in any case. I suspect they still make new sales in Europe, where folk seem less concerned about what haircut a lead singer has.

Therapy? - 'Six Mile Water' - 1999 - from "Suicide Pact - You First"

2001 saw Therapy? record what I consider to be their only stinker of an album to date, the ironically titled "Shameless". All the deities created by mankind love you if you can hack it, but a couple of singles aside I find it thoroughly underwhelming. So moving swiftly on. 2003's "High Anxiety" was a return to form of sorts. Not a groundbreaking work by any means, but definitely carrying on the legacy established by "Semi-Detached" in its packaging of punk rock tempered by the band's ongoing talent for a soaring chorus hook. Neil Cooper also arrived on drums, and has marked his place in the band with a penchant for a rolling punk rock percussive assault that suits their later material well.

Therapy? - 'If It Kills Me' - 2003 - from "High Anxiety"

Martin McCarrick departed soon after, which is a shame for him since the last great Therapy? record to date, "Never Apologise Never Explain" followed in 2004 and came as quite a surprise to most of their fans. A scuzzy hyperactive bullet-train of rumbling intensity, it is packed end-to-end with the sound of a rock band creating the rockiest rock they can rock. ROCK.

Therapy? - 'Die Like A Motherfucker' - 2004 - from "Never Apologise Never Explain"

I've always got the sense that Therapy? are uncomfortable following up an album with one that carries the same sensibilities as the last. I don't have a problem with that whatsoever, but it does make it really difficult to predict what direction on their ever-flailing trajectory the next recording will take. "One Cure Fits All" hit in 2006, and was in a sense the final entry in the melody/fuzz fusion trilogy that began with "Semi-Detached" and "High Anxiety". Said trilogy got patchier as time went by, but it still had some quality tunes on it.

Therapy? - 'Dopamine, Serotonin, Adrenaline' - 2006 - from "One Cure Fits All"

"Crooked Timber" followed in 2009, and was a slightly directionless mess of rock tunes that tried to pitch in every adjective I have previously used to describe their music. As a mish-mash of everything with songwriting that is below par for veterans of this caliber, it's not a must-have despite a couple of cracking songs in the middle. Their most recent LP is 2012's "A Brief Crack Of Light", and it comes across like a version of "Crooked Timber" that had a hell of a lot more work put into it. Or maybe a lot less, resulting in greater immediacy. Either way, the tunes are more tunely and the punch is more punchtastic. And it also proved that despite having been going all these years, they can still put out a killer single in the form of 'Living In The Shadow Of The Terrible Thing'.

Therapy? - 'Living In The Shadow Of The Terrible Thing' - 2012 - from "A Brief Crack Of Light"

Listen To A Whole Load Of Therapy? On Spotify HERE.

Essential Records: Babyteeth, Troublegum, Infernal Love, Never Apologise Never Explain

The Overlooked - 10 Damn Fine Rock & Metal Bands That You Should Have Listened To

Another year, another sporadic ATCB update where I proselytise about music. Today I'll be rounding up some excellent rock and metal acts who you probably missed the first time around. All of them are either defunct or active post-resurrection, all of them are awesome and all of them prove that I have better taste than you.

Let's crack on. In no especial order.

Liberty 37 - 'Oh River' - from "The Greatest Gift" - 1999

Straight-up rock with grunge elements and a soaring vocal delivery, Liberty 37 were one of the seemingly hundreds of bands swarming the UK live rock scene in the late 1990s. I suspect they would probably still be going if they had been American.

Cyclefly - 'Supergod' - from "Generation Sap" - 1999

Irish/European sparkling glam punk-ish rock. Mix Placebo with vinyl catsuits and a heightened sense of violent aggression, season to taste. I can guarantee that this will be the only band I ever list on the site who collaborated with Linkin Park's Chester Bennington, unless the new Godflesh album has some REAL surprises on it.

Onedice - 'Know Your Role' - from "Life" - 2001

Thrash-tinged metal assault, with both ferocity and precision in the delivery. My overriding memory of these guys is slamdancing in a large tent at a small Exeter festival while a French man punched me repeatedly in the kidneys. My girlfriend at the time told me not to say anything or he'd beat me up. Those were supportive times.

The God Machine - 'Painless' - from "One Last Laugh In A Place Of Dying" - 1994

Like Swans colliding with Alice In Chains in a darkened underpass, The God Machine's two albums may be the most profoundly depressing and oddly uplifting music I have ever heard. Oh yeah, descriptive contradictions baby. That's how you know I am an amazing music hack.

  

Engerica - 'Roadkill' - from "There Are No Happy Endings" - 2006

Demented threepiece punk rock with the melodic nous of Therapy? and the acid-etched lyrical bite of Steve Albini. This tune is even straightforward enough on the surface that it could appeal to the teenage emo crowd. And chart. As long as they didn't pay too much attention. 

Will Haven - 'I've Seen My Fate' - from "El Diablo" - 1997

Reverse metal riffs chugging at you from the ultradense heart of a neutron star, while the vocals howl in your forebrain. Part of the Sacramento scene that also birthed Far and Deftones, and it shows. Will Haven are undoubtedly both the heaviest and least immediately successful of the three, though they have proven to be highly influential - which is the same thing, only without any money or groupies.

Aereogramme - 'Indiscretion #243' - from "Sleep And Release" - 2003

Genre-wise Aereogramme laughed and spat in your face playfully, with elements of post-rock, indie, folk and metal jostling around for attention. No song was the same as another, nor one album akin to its predecessor. Follow-on acts include similarly excellent The Unwinding Hours and indie/electro sweethearts du jour CHVRCHES.

I Love You But I've Chosen Darkness - 'According To Plan' - from "Fear Is On Our Side" - 2006

A lot of bands swarmed around the feet of the pseudo-post-punk renaissance in the middle of the last decade, but these guys did it bloody well. If you absolutely need a comparison, think Interpol but swathed under layers of atmosphere and therefore better.

Psycore - 'Medication' - from "Your Problem" - 1998

The more cerebrally satisfying of metal acts have traditionally not been the best-selling, Tool aside. Here's just one example from Swedish mentalists Psycore, who were like Helmet playing a jazz club where everyone just fucks and eats each other instead of applauding.

earthtone9 - 'Tat Twam Asi' - from "Arc'Tan'Gent" - 2000

Hey, speaking of cerebrally satisfying metal. These guys are back in action these days and are still a formidable live prospect. Back in the day their tribal intellectual roar was without peer, and they have produced some of the finest metal albums ever made.

This will undoubtedly become an ongoing series, by which I mean I'll knock out another one then get bored with the concept of exhaust my stock of bands. JOIN ME FOR THAT GLORIOUS MOMENT.

STANK II

For anyone who didn't get the drill from the first entry of these beautifully-titled series – songs that many of us danced to back in the day* that don't get much dancefloor play nowadays, because nostalgia.

On with the show.

If there is one thing modern music needs more of, it is gruff men shouting KILL EAT EXPLOIT THE WEAK along to bouncy industrial metal. Enter Pitchshifter, stage right.

For me, the first Rival Schools album has that perfect nostalgic blend of rose-tinted glasses, youth, a thematic link between sound, time and place, and a gutwrenching level of self-loathing. Woo!

Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds have never really specialised in pumpin’ dancefloor-fillers, but it is possible to creep around looking like a suitably sleazy maniac to a few of their tunes. My overriding memory of this particular track is repeatedly bashing my head against a low, sloping ceiling while grinding my hips sexily along to it in the old venue for a night of ill repute named The Wendy House. The swearword-laced barks this provoked only helped to sell the song to anyone watching.

People tend to view the ‘90s as a time of unlimited optimism and positivity these days, but it’s important to remember that we had to deal with tragedy as well. Such as liking nu-metal acts with awful hair and beards against our will. Coal Chamber: the 9/11 of the ‘90s.

Addendum: for some reason everyone at the metal club I grew up at danced to Coal Chamber while staring at the ceiling. Like, with their eyes looking up but not their faces. It was only Coal Chamber they did this to. Weird. Some kind of doomsday virus at work.

Given the current trends within the games industry, I’m surprised no one has yet adapted this song by The Cranberries into a multiplayer survival-FPS. If they really wanted to be edgy they could incorporate elements of what the song is actually about, too. Pro-tip for this song: try singing along to it without an Irish accent. It sounds so fucking wrong.

Sometimes, when no-one is listening, I make the weird AUUUUW noise from this song. I’m not sure what purpose that serves. It just happens, like gravity and love and magnets. I have to include the unedited non-official video here, because the song is approximately 2,000,037 times better with it.

Before they split into two bands, each approximately half as good as old Sepultura, the original Sepultura were the fucking tits. Example? Example.

I’m not even sure why this ended up on the vaguely alt.ish dancefloors of sweaty York rock clubs. It’s a good tune, but not an obvious rhythmic hipswinger and even back then hardly anyone knew who VAST were. Still, this list is what it is and now we just have to buckle up and deal with it one snarky entry at a time.

I miss this Sisters track getting significant dancefloor airplay, partly because it’s a great track but mostly because it isn’t over an hour long with three-quarters of the entire length spent repeating the same chorus line over and over again. HEY NOW HEY NOW NOW PLEASE STOP.

People who don’t like the final song for this edition of STANK should be rounded up and dropped onto a tropical island with some basic supplies and rusty weapons to eke out a harsh survivalist lifestyle, carving out territory in a lawless land where warlords can live as tyrannical god-kings.

A loudspeaker system would be set up so that this song is broadcast island-wide on repeat, interspersed only with wild, shrieking abuse from the condemneds’ loved ones – denouncing them for having let them down and betrayed them on every conceivable level.

And the whole thing should be filmed and broadcast on television 24 hours a day, 7 days a week with commentary delivered from a team of existential philosophers and nihilists under a banner partly comprised of Ant & Dec’s swollen bloody corpses.

You know it’s the right thing to do. The campaign starts here.

See you next time for more of the same. Just the same idea repeated, over and over again. Until we're all gone.

* "back in the day" to be defined as whenever the hell I say it was.

Godflesh - A Rough Guide

I have to confess to a real love for bands with names that tell you exactly what you are going to hear before the needle even drops to the wax. And it could never be said that anyone would listen to a band called Godflesh without expecting to have their aural canal battered mercilessly.

Formed in 1988 by Justin Broadrick and G.C. Green, the band already had an astonishing musical pedigree given that it was two teenagers bellowing about urban disillusionment. Broadrick had played for both grindcore pioneers Napalm Death (co-writing the first and superior half of their highly influential debut 'Scum') and noise rock obscuronauts Head Of David.

They wasted no time in outlining a manifesto of decay, intensity and brutal collapse. Unlike many bands, for Godflesh influences are to be woven together into an unrecognisable whole rather than worn on the sleeve. Thus from a heady concoction of '80s crusty punk, raw piercing industrial, spaced-out dub and experimental hip-hop comes the roaring wounded beast that was their eponymous debut EP. It's difficult to overstate just how different this was to anything that had come before it. The closest touchstone at the time was Ministry's work in transitioning from synthpop to something far more aggressive and evil, but beyond some superficial similarities in fusing guitars and electronics the comparison runs dry. At the time, there was simply nothing out there remotely like Godflesh.

Godflesh – 'Godflesh' – 1988 - “Weak Flesh”

The following year Broadrick and Green dropped 'Streetcleaner' on an unsuspecting audience of musical extremophiles. Still widely lauded as their best work (which I would disagree with), it takes the formula set down by their debut EP and fucks with it harshly. Forming a cogent whole that physically seethes with insignificant fury, to listen to this album is to invoke the absolute nadir of Thatcherite urban life. It is broken glass, shattered concrete and random violence written large under a banner of godless horror. Mechanised self-flagellating impotent apathy. Music to detonate council estates to.

Godflesh – 'Streetcleaner' – 1989 - “Christbait Rising”

A flurry of EPs followed through 1991, with Godflesh doing their subconscious level best to alienate the metal-oriented fanbase that had begun to build around them. This audience was an unintended consequence of releasing debut material so unrelentlessly punishing, and while it is remarkable now that more experimental material would piss off Godflesh listeners, the early '90s were a much more provincial time for metal. The Slavestate EP, and in particular the title track, took ahold of the spreading techno contagion and grasped it lovingly around the neck, finding yet another chemical infusion to inject into an already hæmorrhaging organ. This would not be the first time that Broadrick and Green would take a more popular electronic genre and crumple it into their own weeping shapes.

Godflesh – 'Slavestate' – 1991 - “Slavestate”

'Slateman' was released the same year, a single that was later fused with the 'Slavestate' EP for collectors and latecomers. It offers another fascinating early insight into a later direction, this time with a melodic underpinning that makes the buzzsaw guitars and Green's deep sea bass detonations into a thing of soaring beauty rather than a discomfiting trauma.

Godflesh – 'Slateman' – 1991 - “Slateman”

It's astonishing even now to consider how many boundaries were left crushed and broken in the wake of Godflesh's advance, before they had even inflicted a second full-length LP on the planet. 'Pure' arrived in 1992 and delivered 50% monstrous rolling metal set to beats that were in turn half early-'90s techno slowed down to heartbeat pace and half puncture wound-rhythm hip-hop. The other 50% of the record satisfied their more experimental urges with extended feedback and noise pieces that are at points exquisitely masochistic trials to endure. By spinning out the length and focus on some tracks, the duo had started to build the sense of churning hypnosis that would be so fundamental to their next album. Looking back on 'Pure' now it is easy to make some criticisms. The production isn't fantastic and both types of song have a tendency to bleed into one another – this does the job of painting a single portrait of the needle-swamped alleyway of British culture nicely, but also chokes the delivery before it can scream its name.

Godflesh – 'Pure' – 1992 ' - “Spite”

'Selfless' was voided into the world in 1994, and was (in my mind) the absolute perfected fusion of everything that had come before it. Brutal, hallucinogenic echoes in the silence. A more natural sound that nevertheless machine-tooled every single percussive concussion and tortured riff to unbelievable precision. Astonishingly produced and released partly by major label Columbia records, this would be Godflesh's only flirtation with mainstream distribution. In every way, 'Selfless' is a mad creature split between several worlds and all the better for it. Unlike the previous releases that meshed organic with mechanical in a blood-and-hydraulic fluid wreckage, this album sequences them together on a genetic level. It would also be where the real seeds of their influence on the world of post-metal would start to be overtly sown.

Godflesh – 'Selfless' – 1994 - “Xnoybis”

1996's 'Songs Of Love And Hate' continued the more organic feel of the previous record to a logical conclusion – replacing many of the beats with a drummer in the form of Brian Mantia (though some hip-hop influence is still clearly on display in the beats that remain), stripping back the sound to a more coherent song-oriented approach and turning every track into a controlled collapse. It's an extremely energetic and powerful record, maintaining the unmistakable bellowing control of Godflesh while dancing around the edge of more mainstream metal. It is, without a doubt, their most easily listenable record. For a crushingly heavy industrial metal album named for a Leonard Cohen LP, that's a hell of a trick. A remix collection of more of less the entire album followed - the imaginatively titled 'Love And Hate In Dub' - and is a darkly entrancing curiosity rather than a necessary investment.

Godflesh – 'Songs Of Love And Hate' – 1996 - “Wake”

Three years later Godflesh decide to fuck with everyone one more time with pretty much the opposite polar extreme of their sound. Electronics are pushed to the fore, guitars are stripped back to an underpinning and everything is suffused with an uncomfortable existential dread for 1999's “Us And Them”. It's sourceless drum n' bass-slathered body horror for a select and elite few, and it is the only time Godflesh have been beaten to the punch. Cubanate's 'Interference' emerged a year prior to this, and while the two are obviously distinct and vital records they carry the same internal agony to the bitter end. Thankfully, by this point the band had so inured their fanbase to a constantly shifting musical landscape they were happy to be pulled violently in whatever direction the duo desired. It is truly the most beautiful thing in existence when an audience matures enough to obviate the term 'sellout'.

Godflesh – 'Us And Them' – 1999 - “I, Me, Mine”

Of note for a decent overview of their albums to this point, as well as a collection of rarities, is the anthology 'In All Languages'. While summarising Godflesh's discography is an exercise in futility, it makes the best stab it is probably possible to make and is therefore a decent starting point. It also contains this slightly obscure gem from a 1989 compilation.

Godflesh – 'In All Languages' – 2001 - “Love Is A Dog From Hell”

Godflesh's final LP to date arrived in 2001, and 'Hymns' is an oddly appropriate coda. More stripped back and direct than any previous work, a live drummer in Ted Parsons is again brought on board to relegate electronic beats to the occasional background piece. Finally perhaps finding a balanced point between the melodic and the furious, it is a unique record that reduces what has come before without sacrificing integrity, quality or the inner emotional turmoil that enabled it all. It is the final whistling noises in the ears of Icarus three seconds before impact.

Godflesh – 'Hymns' – 2001 - “Regal”

The band imploded in 2002, with G.C. Green's departure and Broadrick's ensuing nervous breakdown. Throughout the timeline of Godflesh, Broadrick had released hordes of side project material and continues to do so, as well as being the central force behind the masterful post-metal/shoegaze act Jesu. In 2012 the duo reunited for some live shows and potential new recordings. Beat the pack of inevitable awful hipster twats and get into Godflesh before they emerge. You will not regret it.

Listen To A Whole Load Of Godflesh On Spotify HERE.

Essential Records: Streetcleaner, Selfless, Us And Them, Hymns

Another Half-Arsed Music Blog Series

Today I had an idea for a new series of blog pieces while sitting in the bath. And like all great bathtime thoughts, it was positively steaming with nostalgia and self-indulgence. So here we are, you and I, staring at each other through the internet with expectation and anticipation tinged with just a hint of dry reptilian lust.

Hold yourself back from screaming in hot bouncing desire, but I am about to fling a bunch of songs at you based on the fact that I used to dance to them a lot in my teenage years at alternative clubs. But they're not just any only dancefloor fodder, oh no.

They are...

ALTERNATIVE FLOORFILLERS OF THE '90S THAT ARE NOW KINDA OBSCURE OR AT LEAST RELATIVELY UNLIKELY TO BE PLAYED COMPARED TO OTHER SONGS BY THE SAME ARTIST

That's catchy as all hell. Though if you struggle with it, just remember it as AFOT90STANKOOATRUTBPCTOSBTSA. You have no idea how much I am tempted to shorten that to 'STANK' for the next installment.

Enough chat. Let's play some fuckin' tunes.

Dub War – like Skindred, only the exact same band a couple of years earlier. I'm not exaggerating, incidentally – they actually were the same damn band. They changed their name because reasons, and had a bit more success. But for us children of the nascent days of metallicfusionhybridcore, they were mainly known for the likes of Strike It. AH YEEEH.

Oh, Pete Steele. You were such a massive weird Playgirl bastard with a voice that undressed anyone who inclined that way in a ten-mile radius. I'll forever remember you for your passive-aggressive love/hate relationship with your own subculture, your potential troubling racism (although equally potential hilarious satire) and awesome songs like this one.

Cradle Of Filth weren't always a ridiculous pantomime version of themselves. Once upon a time they were ridiculous pantomime versions of other, more Scandinavian black metal bands. During the latter period they actually seemed to take themselves seriously, which made it all somehow better. If you're going to go rifling through the apocrypha for cool ancient deities to pop into song lyrics, you might as well include some delusional teenage conviction while you're at it.

This Apoptygma Berzerk tune used to get played all the time, but, like, now it isn't? Like, their other stuff gets played more instead? Like it's different now? What's with that?

There's a misconception among old bitter idiots like me that DJs nowadays just play the big bands, whereas in the old days they found time for smaller bands too. It's nonsense. It's just that I, and others like me, no longer recognise the smaller bands. Because we're old and they're shit and everyone dies. I used to dance to this Rosetta Stone song all the time in a long-gone York city centre goth night that took place in a large ballroom with many patrons who wore very little clothing. Outside there was a takeaway van that would make grilled cheese bread rolls if you asked for them. I always had about four while walking back to my student halls. Summary: times now past were the fucking BOMB.

DUH-DUH-DUHDUHDUH-DUHDUHDUH-DUUUUUUH. DUH-DUH-DUHDUHDUH-DUHDUHDUH-DUUUUUUH. DUH-DUH-DUHDUHDUH-DUHDUHDUH-DUUUUUUH. DUH-DUH-DUHDUHDUH-DUHDUHDUH-DUUUUUUH. Rinse / repeat / fade out. Raging Speedhorn. Perfect for a quiet night out.

In front of unsuspecting nightclub punters in Preston, Lancashire I and several friends would form a shoulder-linked circle and madly bounce up and down and around the dancefloor to this System Of A Down song until we had achieved our goal of just fucking pissing off everyone in the world. This blog is probably a continuation of that original project, now that I think about it.

Look, Babylon Zoo just happened. Like a natural disaster or a flu epidemic or Curt Hennig's persistent time away from the ring due to injury. It's no one person's fault, so we just have to get on with things and try to build a new life of hope and fulfilled dreams and all that shit.

A prime example of a band who still get decent dancefloor airplay with some long-forgotten and deserving tunes that never get out there anymore. I'm sick as pigshit of hearing that one about not wanting to tidy your bedroom when great Rage Against The Machine songs like this are put on a shelf in a quiet room where grandpa can listen to them without interference from the kids.

Last one for this round. Nine Inch Nails, with a typically upbeat summer pop hit.

STANK will be back! Or not. You know how this blog goes by now. In the meantime, look out for a new Rough Guide coming next weekend/soon/eventually.

Alkaline Trio - A Rough Guide

Alkaline Trio. In the world of the alternative mainstream, they would seem to be a dead cert for stardom. Melodic, catchy, lyrics about murdering people then running off to wash your hands in a river. And don't get me wrong, they have had plenty of success and recognition. I'm pretty sure none of them will ever need to turn tricks on the street-corner again. But hold them up against their pop-punk peers and it is odd that they haven't achieved the same levels of worldwide fame.

Or maybe it isn't.

And maybe that's a good thing. After all, then everyone would like them and people like me would have to pretend they sucked to maintain our fragile veneer of aloof credibility.

Let's have a wee look inside their crimson-and-black painted box of wry horrors, shall we?

Kicking off in 1996 Illinois with a flurry of EPs, the band (Matt Skiba being the only founding member currently remaining) found their feet proper with the foundation of Dan Andriano on bass and co-vocals – an addition that led to the two-headed beast of songwriting and vocal duties they ride to this day. Debut album 'Goddamnit' was spat out in 1998, and shows a surprising maturity given the youth of the band and the undeniable – indeed, self-conscious and proactively - immature nature of the American pop-punk scene. Lyrically it deals with much of what they would concern themselves with for the years to come. Failed romance, addiction, wry observations about friendship and loss. Never one to club you over the head with meaning, even this early in their career Alkaline Trio preferred to sidle up to you stealthily and whisper these things into your ear underneath the melody.

Alkaline Trio – 'Goddamnit' – 1998 - “Nose Over Tail”

'Maybe I'll Catch Fire' followed up in 2000 – and for many old-school fans is their definitive record. Again, it displayed shocking variety and incisiveness for a band in the early stages of their career. It ratcheted back the speed and pure pop-punk bounce somewhat, instead introducing elements of classic rock that they have sneakily kicked around in plain sight since, to varied levels of success. Album closer “Radio” is the solution to every tender quiet song by an alternative band feeding off the mainstream. At this point the band were still regularly releasing EPs, which are also worthy of attention once you have exhausted their LP output.

Alkaline Trio – 'Maybe I'll Catch Fire' – 2000 - “Radio”

A switch in labels and some attention from music journalism worldwide led to the increased success for third record 'From Here To Infirmary', which was undeniably slicker and less raw than their earlier work – both in terms of songwriting and production. It was the start of what can be seen as the band's middle incarnation, which brought them their most immediate success and is in my mind their best work. It kicked them much further into the public eye, but still denied them the headlining recognition many of their peers were to receive. I've touched on that above, but I suppose the real reason is that Alkaline Trio's feelgoods come with a huge, overbearing caveat. They are frequently songs about redemption in one form or another, but it is a pessimistic redemption that is uncertain of ever achieving a lasting success. Murky stuff if all you want is a three-minute three-chord riff to bounce to on a sunny day.

Alkaline Trio – 'From Here To Infirmary' – 2001 - “Take Lots With Alcohol”

I'm not usually a massive fan of split records – I find that bands tend to relegate songs they're not quite happy with to them, since they're not being released under a single banner – but of note at this point was a split EP recorded with the similarly excellent Hot Water Music, who will likely get covered in another chapter of this series. Featuring the bands covering each others' songs as well as a few new tracks, it was notable that Alk3's songs were a bit less straight-forward pop-punk in structure than they had been before. A sign of things to come.

Alkaline Trio – 'Alkaline Trio/Hot Water Music' – 2002 - “Queen Of Pain”

2003's 'Good Mourning' solidified this shift with the majority of the tracks stretching themselves out from their simplistic, if well-crafted, origins to something that straddled the borders of downbeat melodic pop-punk and straight-up mournful hard rock like some kind of thrashing flame-drenched creature. It exemplifies exactly what the band does best, reaching out from a place of dour self-reflection to cheerfully smack you across the cheeks with a shiteating grin. If you start anywhere with Alkaline Trio (and you really should), then start here. Like so many bands, the best work lies in this transition record between two states. In addition, at least part of this is likely down to the band actually settling on a drummer – with Derek Grant's furious attack frequently matching the lyricists' dark melodies perfectly.

Alkaline Trio – 'Good Mourning' – 2003 - “This Could Be Love”

Most of the songs I use in these come from records, but I would be remiss if I didn't mention possibly their best song - “Warbrain”, off the slightly-embarrassing-now-titled 'Rock Against Bush Vol.1' complilation. Yeesh. How 2004. It's also available on the excellent odds n' sods record 'Remains', from 2007. So. Y'know. Get that instead.

Alkaline Trio – 'Rock Against Bush, Vol.1' compilation – 2004 - “Warbrain”

The transition away from their raw punky origins was more or less complete with 2005's 'Crimson'. Certainly divisive among their fans at the time, looking back it's growing increasingly difficult to see where the fuss came from. They have done far worse things since, and the transition was really so natural as to be unnoticeable unless one is invested fully in their first couple of albums. It's definitely a rock record, as opposed to punk. And the slow creeping inevitability of repeating yourself with age means it comes across as more crafted and less directly honest. But it's still a solid album, introducing new gothic (and I use that word in the American sense of a bit creepy and sad rather than actually goth) elements and a penchant for using instrumentation other than guitars and drums that has served them in good stead since.

Alkaline Trio – 'Crimson' – 2005 - “The Poison”

Less favourable things can be said of 2008's 'Agony & Irony', without a doubt the lowpoint of their career to date. Advancing further into the dull comfort of adult rock, there really is little to recommend about the album over their others. It's not appalling and embarrassing in the way that many bands become when they fully shed their youthful energy, but for a band based around hooks and melodies there are surprisingly few on show. The one exception is this track from Dan Andriano, which I suppose proves that even their turds have the occasional blackened gem in them. Often overlooked, certainly in terms of singles, Andriano's contributions to their albums over the years have provided a steady pulse that Matt Skiba can dance around while crowing about flames and hearts and oh-so-dark things in the basement.

Alkaline Trio – 'Agony & Irony' – 2008 - “Do You Wanna Know?”

Touted as a return to their punk rock roots, 2010's 'This Addiction' certainly delivered a far more immediate and satisfying record than they had produced since 2003. The raw energy – and certainly the pining lyricism – seems a bit more forced than it had done previously, but for a band stepping over the corpses they had left behind them they were certainly not really putting a foot wrong. As an effort to recapture their glory years (creatively if not financially, since both 'Crimson' and 'Agony & Irony' were fairly resounding successes sales-wise) it's a solid one.

Alkaline Trio – 'This Addiction' – 2010 - “This Addiction”

And y'know, I only got the new album 'My Shame Is True' this week. So forgive me if I'm vague on it. But it seems like a decent if unremarkable follow-up to 'This Addiction', following a similar blueprint for their mid-period material with an up-to-date production sheen. Ask me again in five years, and maybe I'll hold a more controversial opinion on it. But for now, pitch yourself bodily into their back catalogue. If you're committed, make sure you're wildly laughing, covered in oil and flinging lighted matches around while you do it.

Alkaline Trio – 'My Shame Is True' – 2013 - “Midnight Blue”

Listen To A Whole Load Of Alkaline Trio On Spotify HERE

Essential Records: Maybe I'll Catch Fire, From Here To Infirmary, Alkaline Trio/Hot Water Music, Good Mourning, This Addiction

Killing Joke - A Rough Guide

So, what the hell is the point of this? Think of it as a rough guide to bands you should have been listening to for years. If you have been, then well done. You're one step ahead of the heaving, cursing masses. You may still get something out of these pieces – nostalgia, insight, the warm satisfaction of helping me achieve sexual release through the raw erotic pleasure I get from my hit counter notching up one more peon.

The format? 10 songs, drawn from as many different albums as possible. Linked through via the magic of YouTube, Spotify and other such wonders. Some hastily constructed words about them and the band themselves. Without any further ado, then.

Killing Joke. Post-punk chameleons hailing from the arse-end of 1970s London, they have been ridiculously influential on a frankly ludicrous number of musicians from a lurching cacophony of genres. Over the last 35 (FUCKING THIRTY-FIVE) years they have morphed into a number of shapes, most of which have managed to both leave their mark on a sound and maintain their trademark feverish post-apocalyptic tribal fury.

The first track is picked straight off their first EP, 'Turn To Red'. As well as being draped with their early imagery courtesy of graphic artist Mike Coles – a mixture of stark colours, clippings from propaganda, high-rise tenements and contorted harlequin faces – it sets out their stall with a relentless percussive beat, Jaz Coleman's snarling denouncements of modern society and a distant echoing sensation that conjures up the notion that it is being beamed straight into your cortex from a subverted spy satellite.

Killing Joke – 'Turn To Red' – 1979 - “Are You Receiving?”

The debut eponymous album followed within a year, and augmented the uncomfortable punk throb with a predilection for the melodic guitars and howls of the nascent modern metal scene. This cut is a standout from a surprisingly cogent and mature first album that, in a UK shimmering with the youthful glow of the second worldwide wave of punk, manages to feed on that energy while laying the groundworks for what would later become industrial rock and metal. In the north of England, Throbbing Gristle were busy contorting noise into music. Down in London, Killing Joke were utilising similar principles to contort music into noise.

Killing Joke – 'Killing Joke' – 1980 - “Requiem”

The title of 1981's second album, 'What's THIS For...!', is an apt demonstration of the principles of early Killing Joke - a non-sequitur lending purpose to futility. The sound remained largely similar to their debut, albeit with the improved production that tamed many a punk band instead lending a feeling of discordant discomfort that suited their wide-eyed unholy prophecy down to the ground. A more markedly tribal percussion from Big Paul Ferguson lent credence to their ongoing crusade, an intellectually violent wardance against the growing urban wasteland around them. The album as a whole is stunningly confident, crawling with an unclean madness that delivers you straight into the heart of Jaz Coleman's lyrics. Not entirely a pleasant place to be. This cut is also notable for having an obscure band named after it, that later delivered to the world the likes of Godflesh and Napalm Death.

Killing Joke – 'What's THIS For...!' - 1981 - “The Fall Of Because”

The following two albums ('Revelations' and 'Fire Dances') showed an increasing use of occult imagery, running parallel with an increasing sense of paranoia that led to most of the band relocating to Iceland in 1982 to avoid the oncoming apocalypse. Once this failed to appear, it isn't too much of a stretch to assume that the (presumably) sheepish return to their home shores helped to fuel the mellowing of their sound. This shift reached its apex with 1985's 'Night Time', which utilised their already established infectious rhythms to slot comfortably (as comfortable as Killing Joke could ever be said to be) into the burgeoning New Wave scene. While they haven't really held onto this position in the minds of the general populace in the intervening years, their quasi-pop sound was dark and unsettling enough to have lodged itself firmly into goth subculture. Nearly 30 years later, “Love Like Blood” is still a firm eyeliner-and-lace floorfiller. It's also worth noting that another track from this record, “Eighties”, contained a bassline so similar to Nirvana's “Come As You Are” that it inspired a court case that was only dropped when Kurt Cobain chowed down on the end of a shotgun.

Killing Joke – 'Night Time' – 1985 - “Love Like Blood”

Alongside the pulsing bass of Raven and the stabbing murder-pop guitars of Geordie, new influences started to bubble to the top of the steeped Killing Joke cauldron. 1986's underrated 'Brighter Than A Thousand Suns' felt no shame whatsoever in incorporating elements of prog and funk into a bubbling '80s conflict of sounds that functions surprisingly competently given the necessarily mercurial nature of the end result. This conflict played out both in public and behind the scenes, as fans decried their newer sound as being more commercial (which it undoubtedly was) and members of the band themselves began to feel uncomfortable with their direction. While still fundamentally Killing Joke and, I would argue, still breaking precious new ground, it was a long way indeed from the almost-frothing madness of their immediate post-punk work. Oddly, their increasing use of electronics was touted as a limiting factor – even though they had been enthusiastic users of electronics in both sampling and keyboards since their earliest recordings.

Killing Joke – 'Brighter Than A Thousand Suns' – 1986 - “Victory”

Inevitably, this mass breakdown of forward motion led to a collapse of the band with just Coleman and Geordie remaining afterwards. The final straw that led to this seems to have been the release of 1988's 'Outside The Gate', written and performed by said duo and the only Killing Joke album I cannot in all good faith recommend. Indulgent and faintly ludicrous with no seeming quality control whatsoever, it stands out as the only real turd in their long career. Moving on swiftly, Coleman and Geordie found themselves in desperate need of other people to actually complete the band. Eventually they managed to bring previous bassist Raven back on board, and recruited Martin Atkins on drums. The resulting industrial superstorm led to a renewal of their filthy creative juices which initially resulted in the barely restrained furious spasm that is 1990's 'Extremities, Dirt & Various Repressed Emotions'. Far more turbulent and unpleasant than anything they had produced since their early years, it is the classic example of a band reclaiming their own heritage by going back to their roots and finding the passion again. In the case of Killing Joke, this is of course the passion of a scrabrous street-corner prophet denouncing the habits of the great and good as he quotes Crowley and Malthus in equal measure.

Killing Joke – 'Extremities, Dirt & Various Repressed Emotions' – 1990 - “Money Is Not Our God”

However, this refreshed sense of purpose was almost slaughtered in the cradle when Jaz Coleman, quite predictably, chose to relocate himself to a remote Pacific island. Presumably to avoid another oncoming apocalypse. During the development of 'Laugh? I Nearly Bought One!', an anthology spanning a good deal of their career to date, the first Killing Joke bassist Youth managed to persuade Coleman away from his paranoia and back into the studio for a reformed band that jammed together various folk from all over the history of the band. The first product of this was 1994's 'Pandemonium', which managed to pick up the reigns of industrial rock from where Killing Joke left them hanging back in the early 1980s. With Middle Eastern sonic touches and unafraid to fully embrace their historic love for electronics, it is undoubtedly one of their records that can be said to be truly definitive. A raw, melodic howl into a void of half-remembered snippets from Victorian occult texts and semi-glimpsed fractal nightmares.

Killing Joke – 'Pandemonium' – 1994 - “Mathematics Of Chaos”

This lineup produced a follow-up in 1996's 'Democracy', a record which is fondly thought of by every Killing Joke fan except myself. It does most of the things 'Pandemonium' does, only calmer and with more optimism. I prefer my wide-eyed demented industrial post-punk frenzy with a bit more unbridled rage, thanks. The band hopped onto the extended hiatus train after that for their biggest fallow period to date. It would be seven years before we would hear from them again, but it was worth the wait. Returning in 2003 with their second eponymous album, the naming decision itself adequately summarised what they had done. A rebirth that put all those who had aped them over the intervening years to shame, the record was a wildly screaming kick to the chest that helped to restart the failing heart of the industrial metal scene. Without a doubt their heaviest album so far, it treads a beautiful line between accessible riffage and borderline certifiable supernaturally-tinged conspiracy theory. Perhaps surprisingly given their antagonistic history with Nirvana, Dave Grohl was brought on board to perform drums – he is of course absolutely spot-on, and blends perfectly with the shivering whole.

Killing Joke – 'Killing Joke' – 2003 - “Asteroid”

2006's 'Hosannas From The Basement Of Hell' was like an evil chimera of all their previous sounds at once – with urban industrial horror, racing punk bloodstreams and catapult-pitched melodic swansong all combining into a whole that just about manages to carry it off. It is essentially the noise passing through the head of a reborn 21^st century Jack The Ripper. While not their finest ever, it certainly cemented the clarity that even this late into their career Killing Joke could produce an album that sounded vital, fresh and – crucially – exactly like Killing Joke. Throughout the closing section of the standout title track, Coleman wretchedly roars “I'm not a murderer yet.” The sense of foreboding throughout is palpable.

Killing Joke – 'Hosannas From The Basement Of Hell' – 2006 - “Hosannas From The Basement Of Hell”

Raven's death in 2007 led to a more reflective record with 2010's 'Absolute Dissent'. Perhaps their most varied album to date, and doing an excellent job of stripping back their 21^st century sound to an experience that manages to be calmer – dare I say it, mature – while retaining a turbulent heart that carries the same essential message of social revolt and pessimistic despair for our species. 2012's 'MMXII' followed a similar pattern, albeit with a lesser degree of success. Over the long years Killing Joke have proved themselves a fascinating band, seemingly unable to rest on their laurels for long with an unshakeable sense of identity. My primary reason for hoping the end of mankind never arrives is that if it does, this band will have performed their function to completion and will therefore cease to be.

Killing Joke – 'Absolute Dissent' – 2010 - “In Excelsis”

Listen To Whole Load Of Killing Joke On Spotify HERE

Essential Records: Killing Joke (1980), What's THIS For...!, Night Time, Brighter Than A Thousand Suns, Pandemonium, Killing Joke (2003), Absolute Dissent

Feel A Burgeoning Need To Listen To Them Repeatedly? Please Acquire Them With Cold Hard Cash. Downloading Isn't Theft, But It Does Make You A Bit Of A Twat If You Try Then Don't Buy. 

ATCB's Top 100 Albums Of The Bastard's Decade: 10-1 

Presenting the final installment in this ongoing, self-obsessed series. A Spotify playlist featuring all available recommended tracks is being built daily alongside the list, and can be found by clicking here.

10. Killing Joke – ‘Killing Joke’ (2003)

When Killing Joke kicked out finally kicked out an album after a seven year hiatus that followed the sub-par ‘Democracy’, few expected it to hit with the raw passion and rage that it did. A violent burst of deathmarching industrial metal with a tribal vibe, it not only brought them back to the loving arms of their longterm fans but also bought them a whole new generation of followers who were foaming at the mouth to check out the ancestors of acts like Static-X and Fear Factory. As their second eponymous release, this could be seen as a reinvention of sorts. Yet all the old Killing Joke ingredients are still in the mix – Jaz Coleman’s apocalyptic howl, Geordie’s hypnotic guitars, Raven and Youth’s pulsing bass tremors. Yet all of these are turned defiantly up to 11 to produce their heaviest record before or since, adding yet another string to their bow that has in the past confidently fired arrows ranging from post-punk to goth to prog rock. A guest starring Dave Grohl on drums only served to further add fuel to the fire, with the revolving percussion acting as a driving instrument in a way that is ignored by many bands. Lyrically it’s all conspiracy theories and barely restrained moral outrage, the band setting themselves out as 21^st century urban primitives crusading for the downfall of the enemies of mankind. For many other acts this would seem contrived. It’s a credit to the enduring power and honesty of Killing Joke that they pull it off flawlessly.

Recommended Tracks: “The Death & Resurrection Show”, “Asteroid”, “Loose Cannon”

9. Jesu – ‘Jesu’ (2004)

When Godflesh were disbanded and Justin Broadrick moved on to field Jesu as a main project, it seemed natural that he would expand on the drone and shoegaze elements that had pervaded Godflesh releases for a number of years. With this eponymous debut release he managed to concentrate these aspects of his old band into an expansive yet focused post-metal sound. There’s a slow rolling thunder to many of the tracks on offer, like recordings of geological change sped up into coherency. Ancient slumbering gods turn over in their sleep under a black ocean, as drums pound out a slow rhythm with Broadrick’s vocals diving deep into the surface overhead. The decision on which Jesu album to include in this list was a difficult one, with this LP only just edging out 2007’s follow-up ‘Conqueror’ at the last second. In many ways I do prefer the latter – it takes the monolithic crush of this release and blends in an almost-pop element that gives way to a truly unique sound. But ‘Jesu’ is both more consistent and more coherent as an album – one you can spin any number of times and lose yourself in, sinking gently into Broadrick’s bittersweet dimension of intensely physical sound.

Recommended Tracks: “Friends Are Evil”, “Tired Of Me”, “Sun Day”

8. Bat For Lashes – ‘Two Suns’ (2009)

I have to confess to a certain amount of guilt that there are relatively few releases featuring female artists on this list. I’d like to think that this is down to a gender-biased music industry rather than any inherent sexism or preference on my part, but feel free to make your own judgements. Regardless, this is the highest entry for a solo female artist, and though the inevitable comparisons to the likes of Kate Bush and Tori Amos can be made (and unlike most muso clichés, it isn’t entirely inappropriate in this case), Natasha Khan constructs her own universe of shimmering glass and flickering stars to perform against. In ATCB’s opinion ‘Two Suns’ is far superior to her 2006 debut, largely down to a voluminous increase in range and imagination. Traditional instrumentation collides with the more obscure, all of it bounded by occasional stabs of synths and beats. It is eclectic, but never feels as though this was the intent. Rather, the images woven by Bat For Lashes made themselves known through certain sounds – and these just happened to be of a varied nature, while Khan’s voice comfortably transitions between a husky whisper and soothing angelic crescendos. The album as a whole feels like a strangely familiar folk tale told just out of reach of comprehension, a childhood story only half-remembered. It leaves you in an oddly melancholic state, softly smiling at memories left unfinished. And I don’t know about you, dear reader, but I find that is a beautiful place to be.

Recommended Tracks: “Glass”, “Daniel”, “Siren Song”

7. dan le sac vs. Scroobius Pip – ‘Angles’ (2008)

Proving themselves much more than a music video gone viral, the combination of acid-burbling electro wizard Dan le Sac and emotively musing MC Scroobius Pip in a full debut release made for an appealing prospect . Said debut ‘Angles’ showed a variety and innovation that wasn’t exactly absent from hip-hop in the ‘00s – but neither was it particularly prevalent. Rhymes on topics as varied as rambling esoteric dreams, self-harm, musical elitism and Tommy Cooper are perched studiously on top of equally varied beats and synthlines. It’s the synchronisation between the two that pushes the record up above the ramparts, defiantly giving you a friendly thousand-yard stare unless you sit down and pay some damn attention. The production feels raw and slightly unfinished, which swings between being slightly disappointing and strangely satisfying. It certainly brings an immediacy and urgency that was sadly lacking from 2010’s follow-up ‘The Logic Of Chance’. Nevertheless, ‘Angles’ for me proved to be an LP that came along just at the right time. It hit the hipster zeitgeist sideways with rocket-powered precision – a nod, wink and tweak of the beard that aims to make you laugh, cry and wave your hands in the air all in one go.

Recommended Tracks: “Look For The Woman”, “Angles”, “Thou Shalt Always Kill”

6. Combichrist – ‘Everybody Hates You’ (2005)

There’s not much to write about Combichrist that hasn’t already been said in the online world of alt. electro journalism. They’re a niche act who have managed to claw their way out of the scene and almost crack the alternative mainstream through sheer bloody-minded infectiousness. And those support slots with Rammstein probably helped too. Come to think of it, they’re probably the ONLY act of their kind to ever crack that chrome-strengthened glass ceiling. That they have done this all way after the release of ‘Everybody Hates You’ just shows how late the rest of the globe is to the party. Whatever you want to term them – aggrotech, industrial, harsh EBM – Combichrist are a sexualised (and undoubtedly sexist) injection of harsh beat-driven adrenalin mainlined right to the frontal cortex and this is undoubtedly their best work. Stripped down to the core necessities of looped crunches, bass kicks and occasional synthlines, the only humanity dripfed into the mix is a combination of female vocoder samples and Andy LaPlegua’s pseudo-metal roar. To say that this is an album packed with dancefloor fillers is both obvious and a potential understatement. For a period of several years I don’t think I went out to an alt. electro night without at least three tracks off this album turning the club into a heaving sea of cybergoths, freaks and rivetheads all mouthing along to sado-masochistic terms of endearment. Six years on it’s probably reduced to two tracks a night and ‘Everybody Hates You’ still dwarfs a flood of imitators (including, one could argue, Combichrist’s output since this), only stopping now and then to strap listeners down and thrash them bloody before fucking them in the most inappropriate way possible.

Recommended Tracks: “This Shit Will Fuck You Up”, “Today I Woke To The Rain Of Blood”, “Like To Thank My Buddies”

5. Biffy Clyro – ‘Puzzle’ (2007)

Selecting this album might lead me to being censured by the community of hardcore Biffy Clyro fans. Fortunately I find them as irritating as I find all groups centred primarily around nerdrage, so no loss there. When ‘Puzzle’ was released it showed a far more poppy direction than the band had taken previously, dialling down their obtuse time signatures and dynamic shifts (though not eliminating them entirely, as shown by album opener “Living Is A Problem Because Everything Dies”) and ramping up the catchy bubblegum guitar hooks and soaring yet surreal lyrics. It certainly worked for the band in terms of audience base and airplay, catapulting them from slightly underground odd indie rock darlings to one of the biggest current UK exports in alternative rock. It also worked musically, because they have a genuine knack for constructing pop songs that maintain a real biting edge – a common talent for bands in the ‘80s that has since fallen far by the wayside. ‘Puzzle’ is still quirky and innovative, but is also approachable and appreciable on a number of different levels – from the snorting indie hipster all the way down to the primary colour bracelet-and-eyeline teen punk wannabe. It’s a transition that makes so much sense in context of their wider career. While 2003’s ‘The Vertigo Of Bliss’ was the quizzical pseudo-masterpiece that brought them much acclaim, 2004’s ‘Infinity Land’ was an also-ran follow-up that failed to ignite in the same innovative way. This LP is a response to that, a callback to simpler times and sounds that maintains the sparks of ingenuity that lifted them out of the crowd in the first place. It’s a record with a startling capacity to make me happy, and when you’re as grossly pessimistic and misanthropic as me that is something to hold on to.

Recommended Tracks: “Living Is A Problem Because Everything Dies”, “Saturday Superhouse”, “A Whole Child Ago”

4. The Birthday Massacre – ‘Violet’ (2005)

A combination of an early released EP also named ‘Violet’ and re-recorded songs from their fuzzy fairytale 2002 debut ‘Nothing And Nowhere’, this album defies the usual gothic rock conventions by being fresh, personable and unbounded by genre cliché. The subculture-baiting and abstractly personal lyrics of Chibi are sung in a clear, unforced manner while electronic drums, fey twinkling keyboards and distorted-but-mostly-unheavy guitars play like rabbit-suited children in the background. Unless you are familiar with 21^st century goth music, it’s difficult to express how much of a relief all of that is. It’s long been a sub-genre built around atmosphere rather than genuine talent, but The Birthday Massacre are blessed with a surfeit of both. Many blackclad creatures of the night would shudder in private horror to hear me suggest this, but I am convinced ‘Violet’ is the best unrecognised pop album on the whole damn planet. Every single track sounds like the closing credits of a nostalgically inspiring 1980s kids film about travelling to a magic land filled with cowardly bears who need to find their inner rage, and Victorian couples dancing waltzes over starlit meadows. Only y’know, that film was cancelled pre-production. And now all we have is the leftover soundtrack from The Birthday Massacre, discovered at the back of a dusty, empty antique store.

Recommended Tracks: “Play Dead”, “Blue”, “Nevermind”

3. Alkaline Trio – ‘Good Mourning’ (2003)

Alkaline Trio had been spinning pop-punk webs of bitter lost love, addiction and gothic flames long before the release of ‘Good Mourning’, but with this album I would argue that the ingredients all finally came together into a wickedly delightful witch’s brew. Both Matt Skiba and Dan Andriano’s songwriting contributions coalesce into a single flowing black and red stream, and where other bands would suffer from having alternating vocalists Alk3 seem to positively thrive on it – one taking over when emotional exhaustion sets in with the other. Most tracks feature complimentary vocal harmonies that pick up the central melody and dash forward while giggling maniacally. The music itself starts to favour a more mature rock feel than their punkier days of old, but there is still plenty of speeding bounce on a few tracks. It’s an album whispered sadly but wryly to the ceiling in a rotten room filled only with an old vinyl collection and a half-collapsed campbed, the other occupants long since left to set fire to abandoned houses. Many of the other artists on this list have succeeded in making music that is by turns funny, sad, happy and energetic. But ‘Good Mourning’ may be the best example of an LP that manages all these things all the way through, all at the same time. It’s one long barking and fatalistic laugh into the void, and that is definitely my favourite way to spend time.

Recommended Tracks: “This Could Be Love”, “Fatally Yours”, “Blue Carolina”

2. Aereogramme – ‘My Heart Has A Wish That You Would Not Go’ (2007)

Previous Aereogramme records had a distinctive quiet/loud alt. indie aesthetic that bought them fans in all the right places – if by ‘right’ you mean critical acclaim but pretty much zero in the way of sales. For this, their final release, they focused almost exclusively on the quiet side of things. It’s a record which I struggle to describe in terms other than simplified adjectives of appreciation. Beautiful, gorgeous, lush, affecting. Lyrically it’s superlative, building imagery up in your mind’s eye before rendering it down again with a line that leaves you breathless and torn. It has a deep intensity in the gentlest way possible, lulling you with soft whispers before dropping you through clouds and treetops to an uncertain landing. Mostly utilising variations on a traditional rock setup, there are acoustic and electric guitars, bass and drums aplenty but also piano, strings and keyboards. Each track feels like a specific project and design of its own accord, and frankly it’s a miracle that the album holds together as well as it does. But for reasons unbeknownst to the likes of me it does manage it. It’s a journey without a destination through bleak desert lands with a single flower erupting powerfully out of the grim road ahead of you, a dive into murky waters where your only guiding light is a shifting golden glow from a locked box on the ocean floor containing treasures unknown. I am having to use this language because nothing else works for me. That this comes in at #2 rather than the top spot is because of matters perhaps more intellectual than heartfelt. As an internalised expression of the ebb and flow of human emotion, no other album of my decade comes even close.

Recommended Tracks: “Exits”, “Trenches”, “Nightmares”

1. iLiKETRAiNS – ‘Elegies To Lessons Learnt’ (2007)

Here we are at last. I have been surprised how mentally exhausting yet stimulating this list would be to write, and I have to ask myself whether the end result has been worth the effort. Well, if the end result pushes anyone towards listening to ‘Elegies To Lessons Learnt’ then the answer is a resounding yes. Leeds post-rockers iLiKETRAiNS were primarily notable in their early years for the lyrical content. On top of their tidal guitars and insistent military drums, David Martin’s sonorous and somber tones told of historical people and events that have mostly slipped through the cracks of textbooks and general knowledge. A cast of martyrs, fools and deluded heroes are pitched together to produce a tapestry of humanity. That the overall sense one gains of this humanity is its inherent capacity for both hope and despair is telling. This release was their first LP, following 2006’s equally superlative EP ‘Progress, Reform’ in both spirit and style. It gives over a sense of both rambling travel between times and place and an internal consistency in theme and mood, painting sometimes miserabilist pictures of the folly and insanity of mankind. By no means an easy record to listen to or appreciate, it nevertheless builds and builds in the retelling until the lines blur and you find yourself as a deranged sailor giving way to his own hubris and delusion, a bitter assassin enraged by poorly aimed self-righteousness, a shattered and broken survivor reliving nightmares of slaughtered glory. iLiKETRAiNS place small carved stone idols of these individuals in front of you for your consideration and take a step backwards, daring you to claim you are any different. That you’re not one of them. That you wouldn’t, couldn’t do the same. Then when you collapse weeping and begging forgiveness for transgressions committed years before your birth they bend over, remove that piece and put the next in its place. That I have focused on the content and not the structure so far does not imply the latter is weaker. Guitars, bass, drums, brass and trumpet rush across your mind in foaming waves of purity and decay where every ebb is matched in kind by a new crashing swell of trembling strength. Don’t mistake me. This isn’t a record for everyone. It’s intense, unforgiving and at times coldly arch. It is not a happy record. But it is a record that moves beyond its state as a physical collection of songs recorded in a studio by men playing instruments. It is, dare I say it, art. It comments on, and therefore becomes part of, the human condition. In the face of that, the superb songcraft and musical innovation almost seem like afterthoughts.

 “Death. It is the end. More or less.”

Recommended Tracks: “The Deception”, “Spencer Perceval”, “Death Is The End”

Many thanks to everyone who has sat through each and every one of these entries. And what the hell, thanks if you just clicked onto one of them from a random Google search for extremely specific pornography. ATCB will be following this up with a couple of similarly self-indulgent appendices as well as some fresh new articles and reviews over the New Year. I hope you enjoy them as much you bitterly tolerated this.