Monocled Alchemist

MICK SINCLAIR gets a positive charge from CHARCH

Article published in Sounds, 27th March, 1982

Charge | Charge Of The Light (and bitter) Brigade | CHARGE AND I are virtually neighbours. We often meet by chance when taking morning air and exercise in a popular North London high street. The first thing one notices about the members of Charge is their absolute lack of finance, usually not a ha’peth between them.

They’re the types who invite unsuspecting nodding-terms acquaintances round to their dilapidated abode for afternoon tea and afterwards present the innocent partaker of their ‘hospitality’ with a bill for fare consumed.

A few days before our official talkies, we took a joint jaunt down to Riverside Studios. The refreshment eager Chargers spent the evening casting watchful pupils over the bar-room tables, scanning the scene for any discarded liquor glasses that might still contain traceable amounts of the glorious fluid.

Other objects of desire were unguarded plates on which titbits of edible nourishment may still reside. Angel-faced but evil-coated (home paint job) drummer Martyn swipes a bite-sized crumb of chocolate cake from under the jaw of an outraged middle-aged, middle-class, art worshipper and later, dans le tube homeward, crawls the length of the carriage floor for still toke-able ciggy butts.

Charge | Charge Of The Light (and bitter) Brigade

Comparatively sedate bassman Dave, mischeviously meddled with the Riverside restaurant muzak cassette player, while craggy-featured Moose, a crooner from Geordieland, disappeared early, only to be located later back at Charge villas supping a near-enough neat mugful of vodka.

Several empty bottles laid beside him as did two worse-for-Smirnoff, incapable, roadie bodies. The fourth man, guitarist and writer Stu Lunn (a handle soon to be changed by deed poll to Stu. P. Didiot) seems rarely to stray from the shared dwelling. He appears at live Charge showings and at photo-sessions clad in a daring leather mini-skirt set off with fishnet tights. An outfit restricted to wear ”onstage and the bedroom”.

AS OBSERVERS they venture regularly into the metropolis’ gig soirees but always return non-plussed by any would-be musical splendours. Frustration with, and contempt for, the average common or garden combo is the despairing order of the day.

Dave: “It seems that all the bands we go to see are either trying to be punk bands and playing really fast or else they’re trying-not to be punk bands and are really insipid.

There don’t seem to be any good bands that are somewhere between the two. Killing Joke are the only band who are any good.

Martyn: “I think Killing Joke – are still good and I used to like GBH until I heard their last single which was a pile of shit. I’ve given up on punk gigs now anyway, I like evenings like that Splash Of Colour thing at the Moonlight.”

A new fizzcadelic promote-the-LP bash, with Miles Over Matter and the Marble Staircase although Martyn preferred the general ambience of the event rather than the actual music. No Paisley shirts or reefer madness here!

Moose: “I thoroughly enjoyed that evening too. Not because of the bands but because I was outa me head.” The merry lad takes a hearty swig from a whisky bottle.

Stu: “I like the Anti-Nowhere League although they’re closer to cabaret than music.

Charge | Charge Of The Light (and bitter) Brigade

Imagine OAP’s gleefully joining in with the happy chorus of ‘I Hate People’ and devourable imitation axes being served up with scampi.

CHARGE HAVE slogged earnestly away for several years without exactly whipping up a wild fervour of universal acclaim. There is, however, a very strong underground vibe.

An unseen fan-force that was strong enough to put their last single ‘Kings Cross’ into the indie charts and make the ne’er-say-die combination optimistic about the new vinyl, the four-track attack of ‘Destroy The Youth’.

But how do they feel about other bands, like the already mentioned Anti-Nowhere League, who can soar from nothing to notoriety in a few months. Don’t such things sap the enthusiasm and cast a shadow of despondent gloom?

Martyn: “It doesn’t really bother us. It might if we were doing absolutely nothing at the moment and had nothing ahead of us but hopefully we can look forward to some sort of reward for what we’re doing.”

Dave: “But why should we care about other bands? They don’t affect us. To tell the truth I don’t know how we have stuck it out for so long. Madness I suppose and a deep belief in the band because we know we are good enough.”

Martyn: “About a year ago I lost my belief in the band. I had four auditions with others but hated all of them so I re-joined.

The title track of the ‘Destroy The Youth’ EP is a greased-lightning machine-gun burst of aural bullet-fire. An altogether better aimed and higher grade of ammo than the ruffled primal pogo-isms of ‘Kings Cross’.

Moose stretches his larynx, displaying previously undreamt of capabilities in the screaming demon stakes. The remaining trio of toons convey less instant impact, not lacking in venomous bite but by the fourth cut, ‘Absolution’, there is more than a hint of melodrama.

Anymore of this and they’ll be navigating a dodgy course agonisingly close to the empty theatrical yodel of Bauhaus and their chicken-dressed-as-lamb fake profundity brethren.

Charge | Charge Of The Light (and bitter) Brigade

Stu: “Melodrama is what the Bowies of the world do. If it is a choice between Crass, who sing three songs in one breath and singing in verses and choruses then the melodrama comes in as people sing their individual thoughts. Moose sings individual thoughts.”

Moose: “I went to see Bauhaus the other night and I could see Pete Murphy as Bowie and I could even see the guitarist as Mick Ronson. I don’t think my vocals are like Pete Murphy’s, that kind of singer is clearly influenced by Bowie whereas I’m just influenced by myself. If melodrama comes into it then it’s something I’ve contrived myself so it’s okay.”

But it won’t he okay if it dissipates the brutal, intense energy housed in ‘Destroy The Youth’.

A DISPATCH FROM their well-meaning but perhaps misguided publicist, describes the quarternity as “the archetypal political punk band”. Whooping hoots of derision greet this labelling.

Group reaction veers from resigned-to-being-misunderstood-forever mirth, to unflattered indignation and pained horror.

An effigy of the offending subordinate is prepared and long sharp pins heated over a stove.

Stu: “I thought Slaughter And The Dogs were the archetype punk band.”

Dave: “Three of four months ago that description may have been true because the songs we were writing and playing were really fast but we’ve tried since then to break away from that sort of thing.

We did a couple of tours with Anti-Pasti and the UK Subs and it sounded just chronic. 1-2-3-4, one song after another, really boring. We’re concentrating on rhythm now and slowing things down. Still with the same amount of energy but controlling it. ”

‘Destroy’ is a kind of cross-over song. ‘Can I Go To Heaven Now’ is more likely to be our future direction.

“If we couldn’t play one of Stu’s songs in half an hour we used to throw it out but now we spend one or two days working on different ideas and rhythms to make it more interesting. That doesn’t mean we’re going to go on and play a foxtrot for half an hour.”

Charge | Charge Of The Light (and bitter) Brigade

Stu: “I basically write acoustic folk-songs then take them to this lot and by a process of idea elimination they become whatever they are now.

“Several are anti-movement songs, songs about making decisions for yourself and about the possibilities of the individual’s potential.

“I’m against all religions because they allow people to abdicate responsibility for what they do. Can you also put in that I hate fascism.”

Moose: “And can you put in that I hate anyone who gets in my way. I wouldn’t sing lyrics that have any party political bias. I’m not for or against any of that lot but politics of the individual . . . yes.”

Dave: “A lot of the songs deal with oppressive influences on the way people think and act. We wouldn’t be in a band or living together if we didn’t have similar outlooks and views.

“So although Stu writes all the lyrics, they aren’t far from what we all think. The whole song is important though, I don’t consider lyrics a separate entity.”

THE LONG forgotten rent on the communal quarters stands in astronomical four-figure arrears. The astonishing sum of overdue ackers on the many months disconnected telephone would suffice to send Buzby and family on an extended migration.

Yet the constant claims on their empty wallets seems to strengthen the band’s resolve and the shared lack of luxuries breeds a binding unity.

The shared don’t-let the-bastards-grind-you down philosophy does much to stoke the musical fires.

We don’t worry about bills

Dave: “All living together is just something that seemed natural. No one would be in this band if they couldn’t get on with the other members. People have been kicked out in the past and I suppose we four have passed the test.”

Stu: “We do get financial pressures to move on occasionally.”

Dave: “But there is absolutely no need to worry about bills if you can avoid paying them. Hopefully when we get caught we’ll have enough money to pay. Until then we’ll just keep running.

“We are very insular and don’t pay any attention to any trend or fashion, we’ve always just done what evolved naturally (Charge — the organically grown archetypal political punk band?). Nothing much gets through to us.”

Martyn: “Which isn’t altogether a bad thing, of course.”

Ah . . . the sweet bliss of a life away from hollow phoney fads and worthless momentary infatuations . . .

Dave: “Anything that does get through we usually don’t like anyway.”

Martyn: “Glance through our record collections and you’ll see what interests us.”

Equipped with new record and new manager, Charge are also, after a lengthy confession of shoddy live sets in the past, swearing oaths to tighten up and generally conduct themselves in a more professional manner. A determined new positivism envelops them. Debt collectors everywhere tremble . . .