Dirty Water Records
June 24, 2017
Guitars! Guitars! Guitars!
When I decided to review both their debut album and the launch gig at Mannions Prince Arthur in London, backed by the grandiose Scumlord and Fryd Chikin and their relentless battle to win the ultimate-trash crown, I knew how distinct the album and live act were from each other. But I also knew how equally important they are to understand what the band is all about.
Suicide Generation, the band – one singer, one drummer, three guitars and zero bass. You read it right. Three guitars. No bass.
In this constellation, we have Dan May on the solo guitar, Nick Armstrong and Emily Crowley on rhythm guitars, Jake Pringle on drums, and the full-scale brute force of Sebastian Melmoth as the lead singer and songwriter.
Their biggest influences are The Reatards, Gun Club, Pussy Galore and GG Allin, but there’s more! There’s so much more hidden right in front of our ears.
Suicide Generation’s debut album 1st Suicide, a splendid Jonessound production, was released by our friends at Dirty Water Records, who gave them a two album-recording contract straight away. In the words of Dirty Water, it seems like they ‘didn’t have a choice’ anyway. Good for them, better for us!
Suicide Generation is not even a year old and they’re already turning heads. I got a feeling that Sebastian might have grabbed the other ones by the balls (and tits, with all due respect to my dear Emily) and threw them into the rehearsal room, locking and throwing away the key until they finally succumbed. We sure are glad he prevailed, for back then, none of us dared to imagine how fast Suicide Generation would grow.
The first gig of Suicide Generation was chaos. On top of that, the venue’s soundman stunk. Badly. The audience was startled. Our faces were blank, bug-eyed, ears eagerly searching within the sound waves, not knowing where nor what to follow.
For you see, there was no possible way to grasp anything of what was happening on that stage. With Suicide Generation, you need time.
A first, a second, a third… You need to let them slowly absorb into your system. However, once they’re there, they’ll become a part of what you are. Just like any other band you fiercely follow.
Suicide Generation sound improbable, yet, there they are, ripping our minds apart. Sebastian grabs the mic as if the world was about to collapse. And he’s dead right.
The guitars are assertive, each to their own. Emily looks like the quiet before the storm. Only that the storm is happening right there, all around her. Drums fighting along, steady but menacing. Dan’s fiddling on his guitar is a delight.
The stage is a ring and until the very last song, there’s no rest for the wicked. The singer will try to make love with the floor over and over again.
A friend of mine defined their gigs, “as raw as a piece of meat hanging from a butcher’s hook!” I shudder at the image, but I get him. Their gigs do butcher our senses and hook what’s rest of us for all eternity. No one is safe. No One.
After their first gig, I finally fell in love with Suicide Generation when I heard their first demos. Trust me, it would take me much longer with just their maniac, blast-off gigs.
There, I could hear Sebastian’s voice, each instrument’s role, and most importantly, their true core. When you go over the despair of Seb’s voice, you find his most bluesy soul. Music changes, metamorphoses itself over and over again. Just like we do, just like the world does.
Therefore, this right here, ladies and gents, is for me the ‘blues’ of today’s reality. It has to be trashy, it has to be fast and it has to be loud. The Blues of Today are here, the lyrics show the crude cruelty of this world and Seb’s tantrum brings our despair to life. It’s real, raw reality.
To fully understand this band, you ought to both see them live and hear their album. Maybe start with the album though… Trust me, it’ll be easier on your bowels and will definitely prepare you for the real bootcamp. It isn’t an easy trip, but boy, it’s so worth it!
Come on! Embrace Suicide Generation. Buy the album. See them live. Take the risk, at your own peril, of course… I’m just the messenger.