While the established views have set it in stone that The Sex Pistols and The Clash spearheaded British Punk’s First Wave as we know it, there’s one bunch who could stake a claim to being far more subversive, influential and even – in a lateral sense – commercially successful than either of those bands ever were.
Many Rock historians have either written off or ignored the very existence of CRASS, yet they remain one of modern music’s greatest enigmas. Living in a large communal house on the edge of Epping Forest and espousing supposed Hippie values like Peace (capital ‘P’ essential) and vegetarianism, they also recorded a clutch of the angriest, expletive-stuffed Punk Rock (capital ‘P’ again largely essential) records ever committed to vinyl, taking to task the authorities, the Nuclear industry, Religion of all varieties and, oh, a certain character called Margaret Thatcher. Remember her?
The fact they conspired to scare the living bejaysus out of the ‘system’ they so despised (everyone from CID officers to MI6 were sufficiently moved to see what was really happening at their Dial House HQ) has since obscured the fact they also became the living, breathing epitome of a successful, wholly self-sufficient independent record label along the way. Their releases topped the Independent Charts for months on end and have long since gone gold and beyond, yet they are rarely mentioned as an influential ‘band’. Be honest now - how often does ‘Do They Owe Us A Living?’ crop up on Punk compilations alongside ‘Pretty Vacant’ and ‘White Riot’?
Rhetorical question, mate. However, for all the shock tactics and sloganeering, I personally always found Crass a considerably more exhilarating musical unit than they ever got any credit for and nowhere more so than on their third album, ‘Penis Envy’, originally released (with the catalogue number 321984) in 1981.
Finally subjected to the deluxe re-mastering and expanded re-issuing process being afforded to the band’s entire back catalogue as ‘The Crassical Collection’, ‘Penis Envy’ now comes in a lavish box with a fold-out poster of the original sleeve and an illustrated booklet with lyrics and contextual notes from Crass mainstays Penny Rimbaud and Eve Libertine. There are three additional tracks, of which the most diverting is an updated and steely version of ‘Major General Despair’ from the ‘Christ – The Album’ LP which takes a suitably horrified view of the Post 9/11 world we now live in.
It’s the parent album itself which still really startles, though. As Penny Rimbaud notes, it’s by some way Crass’ most cohesive musical effort and (yes!) certainly the closest they got to being a real Rock’n’Roll group “tunes an’ all.” It might still disappoint those who always associate regular vocalist Steve Ignorant’s rancid growl with Crass as he’s totally absent from the recording, but with Eve Libertine and (to a lesser extent) Joy De Vivre’s softer, but no less thought-provoking vocals adding a new dimension, ‘Penis Envy’ is surely the one to silence those (and there are many) who believed Crass to be of no musical value.
But you don’t need to take my word for it, simply try tracks like ‘Bata Motel’ and ‘Systematic Death’ on for size. Goaded on by Eve’s arch Siouxsie-meets-Ari Up yelping, the lads also step up to the plate and deliver some thrilling, riff-driven Pop-Punk. ‘Berkertex Bribe’ is even more melodic again with its’ African-influenced guitars and cool, reggae-style bass and ‘Dry Weather’ makes like the sort of quirky, post-Punk fare The Raincoats have long been lauded for.
|
Elsewhere, Crass’ more experimental leanings also make their presence felt. ‘Poison in a Pretty Pill’ and the resolutely moribund ‘Health Surface’ are creepy and unsettling, while the first half of ‘Smother Love’ is almost Beefheart-ian in its’ execution. In the band’s ‘Reality Asylum’/’Demoncrats’ tradition, ‘What The Fuck?’ veers towards Dada-ist collage (think Throbbing Gristle’s weirdo ’20 Jazz Funk Greats’ or early Cabaret Voltaire), but it’s the only thing here you could realistically describe as impenetrable.
While ‘Penis Envy’ was partially conceived as an attempt to help move the band away from their perceived ‘boot boy’ image and was heralded as their ‘feminist’ tract, the album actually covers a much broader range of topics. Love (‘Smother Love’) the concept of marriage (‘Berkertex Bribe’) the shortcomings of the National Health Service (‘Health Surface’) and the wider world’s philosophical influences (the seething ‘Where Next Columbus?’) also come under the hammer.
The album signs off with the deliberately saccharine ‘Our Wedding’ where Joy de Vivre’s positively virginal vocal helped to hook in an unwitting wedding magazine. Released under the name Creative Recording And Sound Services, it was released as a white flexi-disc single on the cover of ‘Loving’ magazine and sold in droves until Crass admitted to the hoax. Not for the last time, questions would be asked in the house.
It’s not entirely free of blemish, of course. ‘Smother Love’ and ‘What the Fuck?’ especially do little to demolish the myth that Crass were grey and joyless and there are very few traditionally catchy choruses to be heard. However, ‘Penis Envy’ did and (still does) succeed eloquently in its’ quest to address feminist issues with intelligence and enlightenment and it aligns those issues with the most consistently stimulating musical expression Crass would ever muster as a unit. If there’s such a thing as a true Anarcho-Punk classic (capital ‘A’ and ‘P’ both essential) then this is it.
Crass on Myspace
|
