Pure Punk Picks
Song From Under The Floorboards – Magazine
Magazine was one of England’s post punk bands and without a big smash hit, I guess they’re now mostly forgotten.
It seemed in England, punk had about a two-year span of life, before the new bands sweeping in were deemed “post punk.”
Maybe that was because punk was played so fast and that the people living it lived too fast- dying off too soon. And maybe that’s why it was destined to die such a quick death.
Though, I guess it resurrected and still lives on and breathes today. Think of Jesus as a zombie, rising from the dead, and what kind of music he would listen to and then, I think you just might have it right. Though, it might be goth- now that I think of it.
Howard DeVoto was the leader/singer of Magazine and before this band, he co-founded the Buzzcocks. So he was one of the original creators of English punk.
But the musicians in Magazine were in no way punk players. Dare I say, they were skilled, even professional- do I dare utter the words “progressive rock”?
So, Slimedog, are you implying that Magazine was like Johnny Rotten fronting Yes?
No,- but can’t I still dream that it could happen!
But a band with a synthesizer player and a funky bassist are not your usual ingredients for a “Pure Punk Picks” on Thrash N Bang.
Though, in England, in the late seventies, early eighties- it did seem the perfect time for bands as odd as this one to exist.
“I am angry, I am ill and I’m ugly as sin. My irritability keeps me alive and kicking. I know the meaning of life, it doesn’t help a bit. I know beauty and I know a good thing when I see it.”
Howard DeVoto’s vocals spring out like a serene rattlesnake striking out with its’ fangs. It contains a sardonic taunt worthy of comparison to Mr. Rotten, with an occasional flirt with melody.
His lyrics, like Rotten’s, are stark, cynical and somber while delivered with a knowing, arched disdain.
“This is a song from under the floorboards. This is a song from where the wall is cracked. My force of habit, I am an insect. I have to confess I’m proud as hell of the fact.” (Always heard that last part as- “Been to heaven, hell and back.”)
There was a great, nineteenth century, Russian writer named Fyodor Dostoevsky. Besides creating Dos Equis beer, he is best known for his book “Crime And Punishment” which, I highly recommend. But, though very good- be aware, it’s very long.
Most of his novels are lengthy, but he had a short novella called “Notes From The Underground.” And I’m sure that this book inspired this song, though I couldn’t verify this.
There’s a moderate, solid beat in the rhythm with some eighties English funk bass and some spacey, atmospheric synthesizer with a touch of dissonance in the keyboards’ lines.
And if you could eliminate the harsh vocals and edgy lyrics, maybe this could have been just another English pop hit from the eighties.
But this song’s music is eerie and intense and provides a perfect background for the existential despair of the lyrics.
“I know the highest and the best. I accord them all due respect. But the brightest jewel inside of me. Glows with pleasure at its own stupidity.”
What wonderful lines, what wonderful poetry and what a perfect song.
That last deprecating line of this tune is great but rings so false! This is a highly intelligent, well-written song that is philosophical, pulls no punches and is real and true!
He knows the meaning of life, (that there is no meaning), and that’s why it doesn’t help him a bit.
But this band, this song helps me more than a bit, to believe in a life that no matter what existential dilemma that life and this song poses, that beauty and art has a way of making it seem better.
“I know beauty and I know a good thing when I see it.”
I see that here.
Place them in with Public Image Limited, Gang Of Four, Au Pairs, Psychedelic Furs- Hey, toss The Stranglers and Wire in there though, they were really in the with the first batch of punk. And call it all “The Best Of Progressive Punk.”
But please don’t tell them I used this term as I pray I didn’t invent it.
The thought of that makes me want to vomit up into my mouth.
(Slimedog)
