STIFF LITTLE FINGERS

Blasting out of Belfast during the second wave of British punk Stiff Little Fingers were never the most sophisticated band of the era but they almost certainly one of the angriest. Despite the expansive and progressive attitude bands like the Clash were taking at the time SLF still relied on the most primitive of punk formulas - acidic guitars playing a maximum of three power chords per song with singer Jake Burns spitting out his vitriolic venom with the most tuneless and coarse of vocals. Coming from the poverty-stricken political inferno that was Belfast in the late-seventies (not that a great deal has improved since) the lyrics deal explicitly with the 'troubles' and the overwhelmingly oppressive atmosphere the kids of their age grew up under. It is, though, a relevant point - if hardly a pejorative one - that the lyrics were actually written by the band's manager, Gordon Ogilvie, which would explain why the youthful anger of Burns sometimes betrays an eloquence and a perceptive political insight that seems at odds with his vocal persona. It is fair to say that, although some punk bands would declare themselves to be musical incompetents despite having been childhood prodigies, the four lads that made up SLF were not the most experienced and, indeed, talented of musicians. Their palette is an exceptionally narrow one, about as restrictive as punk gets, and as a result their strength lies only in their aggression, conviction, and, above all, melodies. The archetypal reggae cover, Bob Marley's "Johnny Was", is the only change of pace on the whole disc and it is an obvious stand-out as a result, even if it only really gets going half-way through. The rest of the material is simply hi-octane punk music, with the band's manifesto unapologetically screamed out in your face. Most of the time it is nothing but an intoxicating success, with the best numbers representing anthems of anger and synonymous with the outrage that comes from living in a city that is savaged by a minority of, at best, bullies and at worst murderers and psychopaths. "Suspect Device", "State of Emergency" and (most famously) "Alternative Ulster" all succeed in conveying the resentment of growing up in Northern Ireland with chainsaw guitars supporting Burns's vulgar vocal assault. The highlight on the album, though, is the rip-roaring intro to "Wasted Life" with Burns sounding like he's just started a fight in an empty room and is looking for another one. Over thirteen songs, though, it does get a little repetitive, understandably giving the glaring deficiency in the band's technical ability. Only the final track, "Closed Groove", hints at a flirtation with the sterile dynamics of post-punk and Burns essentially calls it a misplaced mistake in the sleeve-notes. The remaster actually includes a recording of an interview with Burns after the songs have finished but I sincerely hope I'll never be bored enough to actually listen to it. Returning to the album, the pros and cons are fairly simple and easy to elucidate. It lacks any form of diversity and, as a result, one's patience can get tried (particularly about two-thirds of the way through) but the sheer conviction with which the band deliver their message ensures, for the most part, one cannot help but feel their righteous anger.

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Email me at: jackfeeny@yahoo.co.uk