Country Teasers
Destroy All Human Life

There's music to listen to when you're sad.

There's music to listen to when you're happy.

There's music to listen to when you're average (semi-quote).

Then there's music for when you feel nostalgia, there's beach music, dancing music, music to listen to while cooking, while driving, for messing around with friends, for making love, for laughing, for relaxing, because you feel elated or alone, music for moments of anger. Beautiful music for lovers or to sing along, the kind your grandma and aunt used to hear. The kind your neighbor plays at 3 AM, church music, music to pump you up before an important exam, or to lull a baby to sleep.

But, I ask... why is there so little, so very little music to listen to when everything disgusts you and you can't see the light at the end of the tunnel even if they plant a 10,000,000W spotlight there?

When I'm disgusted, when absolutely everything my eyes see deserves a pitying veil, when I can't stand anyone, and I hope humanity gets swept away by the earth colliding with a colossal meteorite, well, when I'm in that specific and excellent mood, there's only one album that fully satisfies me, it's Destroy All Human Life.

Ah! What perfection, in its simplicity. How much poetry condensed into four words!

Something that would make Ungaretti pale.

DESTROY ALL HUMAN LIFE.

Released in 1999, it's the fourth album by the Country Teasers, an art rock band from Edinburgh founded in the early '90s. The group is characterized by its sharp satirical lyrics with lethally blended themes ranging from politics, misogyny, death, homophobia, etc.

In a very original way, the group's mastermind, Ben Wallers, perfectly embodies the type of character he wishes to desecrate in a form of self-immolation, provocatively enough to sometimes leave you baffled. The symbol used for his new solo project, the Spakenkreuz, is emblematic in this sense. It's openly a Nazi swastika with a broken and inverted arm that seems to scream "Hey, you! Have you noticed how idiotic I am? Look at me, asshole!", and I couldn't help but laugh genuinely the first time I saw it, especially because he's so damn proud of it.

For these reasons, his work is often considered similar to that of other satirical authors like Lenny Bruce or Bill Hicks, controversial figures for the language used in their respective shows which he knows and draws inspiration from for his work.

At first glance, the cover with its funeral-like tone and a cloudy sunset sky with the album's title stands, leaving little room for interpretation.

Musically, it's country western, deliberately distorted and out-of-tune, decidedly obsessive and repetitive, steeped in the musicians’ apparent alcoholism.

When ugly is beautiful, it's like this. Maybe.

If you'll allow me the comparison, the album would sound like a man approaching you while you're calmly sitting at the bar counter sipping your favorite pint of beer.

Some witty quips suggest you're facing a too-drunk joker, although you have the suspicion he's just a pathetic guy whose armpits stink and who has the breath of someone who argued with a toothbrush last month. As he talks, he spits on you and into your glass, at first seemingly coincidental, but eventually, you'll consider the possibility of intentionality, bad, smug, and deliberate.

In short, you wouldn't want to listen to him anymore, yet you also can't stop listening for that unconfessed, unhealthy taste we all have for the grotesque.

Furthermore, he's certainly no idiot, he's unpleasant but also interesting. He's certainly driven by the good intention of teaching you something, he's not just babbling... he is.

In the end, when he's gone, some of his stench will remain on you. Likely, even if relieved, you'll find it incomprehensible to have listened carefully to his words and found everything so inexplicably consoling. If this case happens, despite everything, you'll find him likable.

Indeed, if you're naturally predisposed to a righteous cynicism, black humor, and a pinch of masochism, you'll undoubtedly be fascinated by the mix of dark schizophrenic melancholy, vitriolic, that's been seeping out all along.

In short, you can't remain indifferent to such an encounter, a valid argument even if you don’t understand a single word. It indeed uses a Universal Language, let’s say.

It's a strange but engaging album, with personality.

If I were to think of a current Italian counterpart in spirit, I would instinctively compare them to BJLFP. In truth, they are considered very close to The Fall or, in some ways, to Crass.

Golden apples to everyone. A word to the wise...

See you around.