Monocled Alchemist

Article published in Sounds, 16th January, 1982

Anti-Pasti | The Anti Somewhere League | NEW PUNK, new music, requires re-appraisal of old standards. It requires an awareness of the fact that punk is a spirit and an attitude, a state of mind that never died and probably never will die – there is no such thing as a punk revival, there’s just new punk bands, no-so-new punk bands, and newer punk bands, there are punks who’ve just discovered punk and punks in whom punks died.

It requires realizing that yesterday’s great punk remains great, but there’s no such thing as a definitive or final statement; Stiff Little Fingers or the Clash or the Damned are always being bettered, and it doesn’t make the initial efforts any less important, but nor does it mean that the newer bands are any less important or valid.

In mid-December, Anti-Pasti became the first of the newer wave of British punk bands (that’s as harmless a label as I can think of) to tour America. Without a doubt, their visit here was as important an occurrence as when the first wave of British punk bands began straggling over here in ’77.

In 1982, punk means more to Britain and America and more people are listening to what punk has to say than ever before. So, it was pretty significant that Anti-Pasti struck me as being better than the Clash had ever been (the Clash being, even if purely in theory and rarely in fact, the ultimate punk band and statement).

I’ve seen both at comparable stages of development, and Anti Pasti clearly had more to offer and more appeal. Just because the Clash had happened already doesn’t make Anti-Pasti any less important.

Anti-Pasti | The Anti Somewhere League

IT’S ABOUT an hour before Anti-Pasti are set to take the stage at Manhattan’s Mudd Club, but the present setting is about as far away as you can get from the hot, physical chaos Anti-Pasti will shortly be in the middle of.

Three-quarters of Anti-Pasti (bassist Will, guitarist Dugi, and vocalist Martin – drummer Kevin is back at the club) are sitting in a quiet and very warm van parked on the southern tip of Manhattan.

It’s a long way from Derby to the Battery, and Anti-Pasti sit in awe of all the things I take for granted – the Statute of Liberty, sitting dull brown and green somewhere in the distance, the two towers of the World Trade Center, looming massively behind us. Really as picturesque as it is easy to overwrite about.

Exhausting

“It’s like you need two brains, one for England and one for America” notes Martin, bright blonde, friendly, above all, enthusiastic. “There are so many things to talk about. Everything is completely different, really wasn’t expecting it to be so exhausting, not getting to bed before five o’clock in the morning.

“It’s really exhausting going on stage after twelve – a lot of the places we play in England, the place is shut down and everyone’s gone home by then.”

The night of the Mudd Club gig, Anti-Pasti have been in North America a week, beginning with a ferocious – though they say not so hot – debut at NYC’s Peppermint Lounge, then up to Toronto (two good shows, they tell me), Montreal (gig cancelled by police and fire Marshall’s, so they took the local punks back to the hotel for a Pally), then Boston and now New York again.

Anti-Pasti | The Anti Somewhere League

From here on it’s Washington, Philadelphia, Milwaukee, some mid-west dates, L.A., San Diego, a few others I can’t recall . . . but all in all, not exactly your easy-riding breeze-of-a-tour. Hard-work. Vaguely, its all in support of the American release of Anti-Pasti’s ‘Last Call’ LP.

Both personally and professionally, Anti-Pasti are friendly, energetic, and hardworking, both by design and circumstance. They reflect the same pure positivism, intelligence, amiability, and depth that the very best punk bands have had.

Anti-Pasti are about achievement and enthusiasm; getting things done and having a good time, smashing it up but never tearing it down – they’re critical but certainly not negative.

Earnestly reckless

Anti-Pasti are a straightforward, totally invigorating band; their kind of punk is meant to be taken seriously but not to be taken soberly. On stage, Anti-Pasti are earnestly reckless, but they look like they’re having the time of their lives being that way. Know what I mean?

Its live where Anti-Pasti really burst loose and emphasize all the truly great things about Anti-Pasti, and underline just what’s appealing about their LP.

ANTI-PASTI hit the stage and rip it apart, with a growling, barking, biting energy, savagely ferocious but not clumsy or thoughtless by any means. They tear into their material from all sides, slamming into it from top to bottom and everywhere in between – Anti-Pasti give everything and all on stage, up to and beyond the point of absolute combustion.

Anti-Pasti | The Anti Somewhere League

Spikey topped frontman Martin is all punching fists, flailing limbs, and fierce, grinning aggression. He’s got a scrawny, open expression that’s an eager smile and a twisted gnarl all at the same time, he’s full of unflagging energy and constant, amazing motion, he’s got a terrific hoarse shout/drawl in the best Strummer/Wattie tradition – Martin is an all-round top draw frontman.

Bassist Will wrestles and dances with his instrument in best Simonon-like fashion, only with more grace and skill than that hulking Clash bassist could ever have, guitarist Dugi is very solid and denim-clad, slashing away at his gold Les Paul with eyes downcast, occasionally leaping into the air or onto an amp, and tousle-haired Kevin bashes and swings away at his drum kit as only a fairly novice but definitely adept drummer could.

Explosive foursome

It all makes for a truly explosive foursome, especially with Martin tossing himself over everyone and all environs, a flying slugger of a singer.

Anti-Pasti still have a very appealing garage-band slur and almost-sloppy force that adds to their enthusiasm and contagious exuberance. An evening of watching them on stage is an evening of amiable chaos with something to say and a reason to fight and live.

There’s absolutely no bullshit or pretence, no idea of regression, not anywhere; if their critics (and punks’ critics) could only see and feel the energy, soul, passion, sweat, and honesty Anti-Pasti put into being Anti-Pasti, then they wouldn’t have a single detractor. Unbridled energy is not without its risks, though . . .

ABOUT FIVE OR six songs into Anti-Pasti’s set at the Mudd Club, during “St. George”, Martin careens into Dugi’s amp and firmly smashes the head of Dugi’s rented Marshall.

The show falls into an abrupt and confusing disarray, first they can’t come back, then they can, then they can’t again but they’ll try to make it back later on in the tour – the packed club of young punks is aggravated and impatient.

Finally, they find a way to go on (putting Dugi’s guitar. through the bass amp and putting the bass amp through the P.A., in case you were wondering) and the set continues.

Anti-Pasti | The Anti Somewhere League

Later, Martin remarks “See! I told you we were cursed!”

It had only been a little while before the gig that Anti-Pasti had tried to explain to me the bad luck that seems to follow them.

Martin: “On the last tour, right, we sat up one night and talked about it and we realized that something had gone wrong at every gig. Every one.”

“We’ve just had real bad luck on the road” Will adds. “Bad luck seems to follow us.”

“On the Last Call tour” Martin continues, “the day before we was set to go, our manager comes up and tells us that ‘Your first few gigs have been cancelled.’ Then the first day, at Leeds Bierkellar, the P.A. turned up four hours late, so there was a mad rush at the sound-check. And then on stage I sprained my ankle. So the next night, the second gig, we cancelled because of that sprain.

Manchester

So the third night, at Manchester, apart from the fact that Anti-Pasti were playing, there was Crass booked and Theatre of Hate booked at different places in town — all in Manchester in one night.

“And where we was playing was at a college and they would not admit you unless they were students or you were signed in by students. That’s atrocious.”

Will continues the list: “Next gig there was a bomb scare, so the police closed the gig. Next gig, Martin did his hand in —”

Anti-Pasti | The Anti Somewhere League

“So I was out for the next seven gigs” Martin states, displaying a rather large and well-defined scar that runs halfway around his wrist. He explains. “I was running down the corridor — I was chasing after a mate, we was messing about a bit — he ran into a room at the end of the corridor, and I was just about to run into the room as well, and he had shut the bleeding door — the door had a big glass pane in it, and I put my hand out to stop the door from closing, and then I could see it was a glass pane but it was just too late.”

Will: “So we did some of those dates as a three-piece — with Dugi and me singing sometimes it was alright, sometimes it was the biggest pile of shit you ever heard. Scares you though. Really scares you.”

“At some places the kids didn’t give it much of a chance” Martin continues. “It did okay, though. We thought it was better to put on some show rather than no show at all.”

ANTI-PASTI’S next gig with Martin was the huge Rainbow punk show, which they also remember less than fondly.

Scarborough to London

“The night before we had played a nightclub in Scarborough” Will remembers, “and we didn’t finish there until two o’clock p’raps later — and we drove straight from Scarborough to London, stopping at Derby on the way, all the way through the night. So we didn’t get no sleep or anything. And it’s like how long — three hundred miles?”

Martin picks it up from there. “And that was a good gig, but they only paid us half of what they should’ve”. And finally,

Will: “Then in Holland we didn’t get paid for three gigs.”

But Anti-Pasti are far from being constant complainers, as the last couple of paragraphs might have indicated. They tend to be more amused by their bad luck than put off by it, greeting setbacks with a good-natured shrug and continued persistence.

After America, Anti-Pasti plan some dates in Europe, including gigs in Spain and Italy, perhaps with a live single emerging sometime in the interim on their own label. They’re aiming on working on a new album in springtime.

The buzz on punk is incredible

ANTI-PASTI arrived in a country finally willing to accept the concept of new music and true punk rock, after four or five years of exposure to the form.

Any talk of new wave or punk being accepted in the US prior to 1982 was bullshit; it isn’t until today that the mood and the spirit and the need to fully embrace and support punk rock as punk rock in this country was really there.

The buzz on punk here and now is incredible, it’s not like anything felt here before — and as I noted at the beginning of this piece, it requires a total revaluation of standards and achievements — today, Black Flag are bigger and have more power and influence than the Sex Pistols ever had here; more American teenagers respect and idolize the Germs‘ later leader, Darby Crash, than even know who Ian Curtis is, and likewise, as ‘pointed out before, Anti-Pasti can be a lot better than the Clash ever were, and a lot more kids in the U.S. are listening, watching, talking action, and sweating over the effort Anti-Pasti or Black Flag or the Exploited or Heart Attack are making.

Don’t let anyone kid you. The positive things about punk rock never died, never stopped being positive; it’s just that certain bands stopped doing those positive things. And Anti-Pasti pretty much personify the best of those positive things, the most vital, the most timeless.

Take Anti-Pasti’s amiable chaos exactly for what it is, because it’s pure and honest, it’s punk better than punk has ever been — punk didn’t start with Anti-Pasti, and it won’t stop there, either. (Tim Sommer)