Civic
Chrome Dipped

For the past 10 years, if there’s still a reason to believe anyone who claims to be and sound punk, that reason is Amyl And The Sniffers.

Then there are these Civic, living next door to Amy and already having two albums to their name, plus a couple of EPs—everything very nice, just enough to make them the most credible reincarnation of their dynamic compatriots Radio Birdman and Saints.

The crowds drawn to Amy can still only see them through a telescope, but Civic would totally deserve that kind of success, even if it will never come their way: meaning that Amy’s unexpected breakthrough—the real one, the albums selling in the millions, Glastonbury on one hand and Primavera on the other—didn’t happen because of some brilliant, meticulously orchestrated punk conspiracy to take over the world, but because of an unforeseeable, terrifying, and unrepeatable stroke of luck.

Anyway, what I like most about Civic is that, just like the merry gang of sniffers, at a certain point they also made a clean break to free themselves from the suffocating mark of a genre that maybe never even truly existed, but for sure counts among its fanbase the most narrow-minded of enthusiasts you can imagine, today just as in ‘77.

It’s an age-old story, if it’s true—as it is—that I’ve loved the Clash with all my heart ever since I first heard that siren, but when they came to “London Calling” and then “Sandinista!”, that love of mine was joined by something else; the same something I felt a few years ago for Amy back in the days of “Comfort To Me”; yet again the same something I feel today for Civic with “Chrome Dipped”.

By my count, it’s respect—and for me that’s worth even more than the sheer admiration for people capable of moving me just by picking up a guitar.

Certainly, this “Chrome Dipped” will disgust some narrow-minded folks—the ones I mentioned above—and they’ll slap the “sellout” tag on Civic because there’s virtually no trace of Birdmen and Saints here.

Luckily, there’s a lot more going on inside, and Rob Younger would have been proud to produce this too, I'd bet my head on it.

Trying to explain with just a few words: many years ago, when I used to rave about a personal passion called Plan 9, I’d have fun joking about an evolved version of garage punk, meaning they made music that could be totally loved even by people who didn’t even know what Nuggets and Pebbles were; similarly, “Chrome Dipped” has everything it takes to win over even those who, if I praise the Sex Pistols, would go looking them up on YouPorn.

Then again, it’s true that there’s no trace left of Radio Birdman and Saints, but the roots buried in punk are still strong, and “The Fool” bears witness to that with force, along with a beautiful “Starting All The Dogs Off” that years ago would have been called art-punk, or a “Swing Of The Noose” that reminds me so much of swampland in ‘77 style, adapted to today. All wonderful.

The rest of the program is even better: it’s post punk in the sense that, compared to those four letters, to that word, Civic have gone a fair bit beyond—just listen to the title track, or the extraordinary ballad that comes right after, “Gulls Way”, or right after that the menacing evolved punk (exactly) of “The Hogg”.

A good ten minutes that could throw Civic’s doors wide open to real success.

If only strokes of luck could be repeated.