The first time I heard this record redefined my view of music entirely. From the instant I heard those Skrewdriver- style guitars and that defiant yet self- loathing growl of lead vocalist William McFadden I knew that from this moment onwards I wouldn’t settle for cheap lyrics, shoddy timing and half- baked political debates. I wanted real music, tangible emotions conveyed and articulated through a sound akin to the one produce by the revving of a chainsaw. I wanted all of my music to sound something like this.
The true joy of hearing The Beltones as the holistic noise they produce, is that half of the listener is amused and confused at the bands' overall sound which sounds, in a controversial twist, somewhat like Skrewdriver (vocalist and guitarist William McFadden has made it clear in our correspondence that this is not deliberate and most likely down to the fact that both bands were heavily influenced by The Who and Townsend's guitar style). The other half is impressed that a band has managed to harness such a volatile sound and utilised each component present in the process to produce a menacing racket complemented by timing as tight as a duck’s arse and some of most sincere lyrics ever penned.
Most lyrics focus on what seems to be feelings of inadequacy or desolation, which are not only painful to read, but when coupled with irresistibly catchy rock ‘n’ roll riffs (most notably on “Weak”) are utterly devastating. It’s difficult to know whether to dance or to cry. There is other subject matter, however, and we are granted a victorious roar in “Better Than A Kick In The Head” which, whilst making a touching love song full of tenderness, retains a sense of masculinity with its ballsy title, chorus and lexical focus on gambling and violence. Further, there isn’t one filler track on this album- not one moment of musical weakness. We are, however, granted slight relief in the group’s cover of Bob Marley’s “Concrete Jungle” which takes the foot off the pedal off self- loathing for a few minutes before hitting the accelerator once again in this frenzied joy ride destined towards a world of heart break and futility.
This truly is one of the greatest albums ever produced. Nowhere else have I read such fantastic lyrics able to convey so much in one line. Combine this with highly organised song structures- and throw in tight musicianship to boot and you have not just an exciting venture but an endearing work of art. What this album does is take a primal and primitive sound, enhance the production and use this as a backdrop to McFadden’s gargantuan growling of the most troubled lyrics I have ever heard. What you are left with, ladies and gentlemen, is a masterpiece that has homogenised the finest, grittiest elements of Oi! and punk- rock and given them a swift kick up the back passage for good measure. Quite simply, this is one of the most beautiful albums I have ever heard.
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