CRUSHED BUTLER - Uncrushed (1969-'71)
Right from the opening bars of corrosive, anti-wage slave anthem "It's My Life," it becomes immediately apparent that it ain't just Mick Farren & the Deviants or the Pink Fairies who can rightfully lay claim to the "First Punks in the UK" mantle. With vocalist/drummer Darryl Read sneering lines like "Workin' like a slave, workin' for you/Doin' somethin' I don't wanna do," while pounding out a mutant strain of Diddley-beat and fellow no-goodniks Jesse Hector (guitar) and Alan Butler viciously pissing all over what was left of the Hippie Delusion, no doubt is left whatsoever.
Recorded in glorious mono at a variety of locations (EMI House, Decca Studios, Regent Sound and the Marquee), "Uncrushed" is ample proof, once again, that punk wasn't birthed in the sleazy, capitalist brain of Malcolm McLaren and his dastardly dupes-- hell, they weren't even the first ones to give the finger to EMI. Crushed Butler already had that dubious distinction by recording "Factory Grime," a rowdy punker fulla Moon The Loon-esque bashing and fevered power chord-slashing the company absolutely despised. As penance, they were sent to record "Love Is All Around Me," a boogie penned by their producer, Roger Ferris. No matter-- with CB's naturally grungy performance, the song is lifted to blistering heights it didn't deserve.
Read is still releasing solo LP's to this day, at times accompanied by the likes of Ray Manzarek and Mickey Finn. Hector and Butler formed the also-excellent Hammersmith Gorillas (a future SLN feature, mebbe?), a garagey combo that found favor with early punk audiences, despite little in the way of record sales. Butler died in 1981.
Look in comments.
WICKED LADY - Psychotic Overkill (1972)
For full enjoyment of this slab o' UK proto-metal, when listening imagine the following:
(a) That it was recorded in a studio on par with Abbey Road.
(b) A producer with the pedigree of a Martin Birch or a Norman Smith was brought in to fine tune the long, fumbling solos and overall lack of concise arrangements.
(c) That the drummer was replaced by a tubs-master like say, Cozy Powell, erasing the erratic tempos and amateurish, lackadaisical anti-thud.
None of this is true of course, but it's best to look at "Psychotic Overkill" as a sketch of what coulda been. Whatcha really got here is three uncouth, British hairies who suckled at the teat of Cream and the Sabs-- when not frying their brainpans shiny on a diet of pharmaceuticals that Ozzy Himself'd be envious of. Formed in Northampton in 1968 by vocalist/guitarist Mike Weaver, Bob "Motorist" Jeffries (bass) and (ahem) "drummer" Dick Smith, they released a demo-quality debut LP, "Axeman Cometh," the same year. Gaining a small following of bikers, among other violence-prone heathens, gigs were infrequent, eventually drying up completely when the Wicked Ones, intoxicated on who-knows-what would launch into sets comprised of the same song over and over again... getting the plug pulled on 'em by pissed off club owners.
Determined to live out their degenerate R&R fantasies, Weaver and Jeffries sacked Smith for slightly-less inept sticksman, Del "German Head" Morley, and unleashed "Psychotic Overkill" to a largely indifferent public in 1972. Once again, the production didn't exactly CRUSH the way it shoulda/coulda, but it does scrunch a bit, which is a decent enough upgrade for a private press recording. However, disregard my bitchin' as what really-- and always -- matters the most is the quality of the riffage, and Herr Weaver could wail and flail with the best of 'em. Combine the amphetamine abandon of Alvin Lee with the burly, fuzzy muck of Leigh Stevens, and you've got a pretty accurate picture of his style. His vocals aren't particularly distinctive-- mainly an everyweirdo yowl, but since they're written mostly as a device to fill space till the next six-string onslaught, it matters not a smidgen.
Opening cut "I'm a Freak," with its full-throttle wantonness anticipates the scuzzy thrash Motörhead would hone to perfection a few years later-- a total fuckin' corker! "Why Don't You Let Me Try" resembles another future stalwart of the NWOBHM-era: Angel Witch. Filled with cheeky humor, and a catchy as hell, heavily metallic, yet melodramatic main riff, it would fit just fine on the aforementioned legends' classic debut LP. An awkward adaptation of Jimi's "Voodoo Chile," complete with one of those infernal "talk boxes" Peter Frampton milked as a gimmick to stardom reduces it to a parody of the original's mystic grandeur-- well-intentioned, but farcical. Such missteps are quickly forgiven by the time you've reached "Ship of Ghosts"-- twenty-one minutes of some of the most over-the-top, wah'd into oblivion dirge rock ever committed to tape. What's most incredible is that not for a moment will you feel the urge to stifle a yawn-- you are pummeled with feral intensity for every second of its epic duration.
Weaver would go on to lend his stellar axework to local prog-outfit the Dark, appearing on their "Round the Edges" LP, which conjures up no shortage of drool from collectors-- unfortunately more for its rarity than quality. I've yet to hear his work in the Mind Doctors, but I'll bet it ain't a patch on the merciless shredding of "Psychotic Overkill."
Look in comments.
WITCHFINDER GENERAL - Soviet Invasion (EP, 1982)
I've thrown this baby in as a (pretty damn special) bonus, as it fits in nicely with the overall, er... "vibe." While the majority of their NWOBHM-era brethren were looking to punk and/or more technically challenging forms of rock to push metal forward into the next decade, Witchfinder General never looked any further than the original masters: Black Sabbath. This elusive 4-tracker is a tasty slab of their Sabbariffic Sloth Rock that would help codify doom metal as we know it (unless yer one of those putzes that considers that tedious, neo-goth shit to be "doom").
In comments-- and how about some
