Stations of the Crass Crass Artist

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 ... Read more

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 Less