It’s often a mistake to revisit the bands of your youth but I had no regrets going to see the mighty Killing Joke who’ve just released their 13th album.

It’s been a long time since I first saw them as a teenager in London but they can still out-drone the best of them.

A maniacal front man with a penchant for face paint, boiler suits and the apocalypse, another band member who ended up in a psychiatric ward, flirtations with the occult, accusations of fascism and temporarily decamping to Iceland to avoid the end of the world have provided plenty of entertainment along the way.

They’ve also had an entertainingly fractious relationship with the music press over the years including one unfortunate who had a box of maggots tipped over his desk after a falling out.

The songs aren’t all tap dancing and sunshine but they’ve plowed a unique furrow through three decades of music. Bing Crosby always wanted to be like this.

 

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away rap music wasn’t all about trainers, bitches and gold jewellery. Cop a load of this…

 

I do wonder about my musical taste in hindsight and I’m not talking about the Spice Girls or Phil Collins.

I was dusting off some old CDs and came across Pornosonic¬† (unreleased 70s porno music) featuring such classics as Laying Pipe, Nice ‘n’ Sleazy Does It and Special Delivery.

Cue the slinky funk bass and rinky-dinky keyboards. Sounds quite good. Not sure what the neighbour thinks.

 

Nice to see a bit of reverse discrimination operating on the door for a Subhumans gig last week (see left).

The nine-to-lifers getting a taste of their own medicine for a change. Not a casual or chav in sight.

And the band played on…

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