CREEM, Oct 77, page 42
LETTER FROM BRITAIN
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Pretty Vacant
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By Simon Frith
To tell you the truth, nothing at all happened this month. I didn't
go to any gigs -- none I can remember anyway -- and I can't get
worked up like the rest of the rock press, about the Summer of Hate
-- new wave groups and fans getting beat up, etc. All that's
happening, that I can see, is that the papers are reporting little
local difficulties rather than concentrating on the superstars like
they usually do. And at the little local level rock 'n' roll has
accompanied people being beat up for as long as I can remember. Part
of the frisson of a rock show for a nice boy like me
is the possibility of trouble as the drink and sweat pour into the
maelstrom of macho obstinacy. Waiting at the stage door for the bands
to come out to get done over (unless the roadies get you first) is
part of the grand tradition of provincial dances, and to stride the
streets as a punk in 1977 is no more risky than having long hair in
1964, short hair in 1969, green hair in 1973 or a black skin any
time. The drunken Englishman is a pretty nasty fellow and always has
been (though not as nasty as the drunken Scotsman). Enough said.
The sun hasn't shone much either and all there's been to do is
listen to records and try to sort out What It All Means. What it all
means, I'm glad to say, is that the new wave is here to stay -- the
best records of the year as well as the best news has come from
various descriptions of punk. Here, then, are ten groups for the
summer of '77.
(Aside: blaming it on EMI. As there's a hundred new bands I've
never heard because they come tumbling out all sounding the same on
obscure labels without press people and I don't know which ones to
buy, this isn't a real good guide and as EMI, fresh from their
triumphs with the Pistols, have just released Live at the
Roxy -- an instant anthology of all the best known London
gigging punks -- but not sent it to me [and if it's anything like
Live at CBGB's or whatever that record was called,
it'll only prove again the old hippie adage that the best bands get
the best contracts and screw the rest] and as the man from Capitol
[same record company, different phone] couldn't think of any reason
why he should send me [in England] Mink De Ville, an American record
[of which some people say good things and some people don't] to write
about it in CREEM [an American magazine], I say screw it too and
remember another old adage: if I haven't heard it, it isn't any
good.)
1, 2 & 3: The Sex Pistols, The Clash, Chelsea.
In as far as there is a single British punk sound, it is the one
made by the Pistols and the Clash. Its essential components are tone
of voice and a chorus. Musically there's little more than a cacophony
of aggressive noise, melodically there is nothing much to hum, and
even by rock standards these boys can't sing. The buzz -- and it's a
big buzz -- comes when the snarled anger, frustration and adrenalin
of the vocals, matches the snarled anger, frustration and adrenalin
of the chorus. There's no that this is a form that's made for tedium
-- unless the chorus is catchy there's nothing but noise, and it's a
thin line between real and posed anger. Most punk records don't bear
listening and the Pistols and the Clash are awesome just for their
strike rate -- they consistently manage the match of three minute
form and content that has always been the essence of good rock 'n'
roll and, even better, their best records are their most recent: The
Clash's "Capitol Radio" (sorry about this -- it's one of those
obscure fans' singles you had to get by sending in a red sticker and
a form from the NME) and the Sex Pistols' "Pretty
Vacant," with its precise lyric -- "We're so pretty, oh so pretty --
vacant!"
Of the second generation (already) new wave of new wavers that I've
heard, only Chelsea, with singer Gene October's "Right To Work" have
got the formula so good. And when was the last time Pete Townsend
wrote a song about the unemployment line? These boys
sound communal, whatever sort of jerks they may be
in private.
4, 5 & 6: The Ramones, Blondie, The Dictators.
In as far as there's an American punk sound, I guess it's the one
made by these New Yorkers and it's not so much a sound as a
sensibility. I haven't seen the Dictators but the others are more
convincing on record than on stage and all of them are addictive --
their LPs get better as they play on (unlike the British bands, for
whom three minutes at a time is quite enough). They are also all
funny, clever and kinda fake -- I mean, they all come on so nasty,
and come out so nice. Fine pop groups, all three, and the opposite,
dead opposite, in every respect, to the British punks. It's the
difference between fun and fury and fun last longer but fury's more
correct and what a good summer when we've got them both in such hot
form.
7, 8 & 9: Dave Edmunds, Eddie and the Hot Rods, Elvis
Costello.
It isn't fashionable to like Eddie and the Hot Rods anymore because
really they just play that old rhythm and blues very fast. But then
they always did and they still do it bloody well and the live EP,
At the Sound of Speed, is as bouncily exhilarating
as a July record should be. Ditto for Dave Edmunds. Get
It is another sharp album of old rock 'n' roll and if Dave
Edmunds isn't exactly new wave, he's still newer wave than old bands
like Southside Johnny's and he's got Nick Lowe in his band on bass
and Nick Lowe is the spider of this whole web, moving easily from
Brinsley Schwarz and pub rock to Stiff records and punk rock, and at
the same time producing an eccentric singer, Elvis Costello, who's
no punk but one of those pop obsessives (like Jonathon Richman)
around whom cults gather. I haven't a clue what "Less Than Zero," his
first single, was about but it sounded like an important debut; and
"Alison", his second single, is pretty neat too. Elvis is our summer
charmer.
10. Bob Marley.
Punks still like reggae, I still like reggae, Bob Marley still
likes reggae. Exodus is a good enough reason for all
of us.