Death In June
The Guilty Have No Pride

It's June 1981: Douglas Pearce and Tony Wakeford, both former Crisis members, decide to give life to Death in June, which will become the symbolic entity of a new genre, apocalyptic folk. And it's curious to note that while Crisis had been a far-left punk group (the band was part of the Anti-Nazi League, an organization of the Socialist Workers Party, of which Wakeford himself was a member), Death in June takes its name from the "Night of the Long Knives," the infamous Nazi massacre that took place on the night of June 29th to 30th, 1934.

Strange twists of life.

Whatever the case, from the canonical angry and subversive punk of their beginnings, the two decide to move towards the dark settings of a Joy Division-style dark. What differentiates the new lineup from the slew of Ian Curtis & co. clone bands is the adoption of an unusual warlike iconography (the members wear military uniforms, while the Totenkopf, the emblem of an SS division, becomes the official mascot of the band and will appear on more than one cover of Death in June's works). In light of the political orientation of the defunct Crisis, such a choice seems to me, at least initially, to be merely a provocation. Or, even more simply, a way to distinguish themselves and better attract the attention of an audience increasingly bored with the usual overused scarecrows of the dark universe. (Pearce himself, later on, will claim that the iconographic apparatus and imaginary that underpin the music of Death in June should be interpreted in an esoteric key, and that a strictly ideological view inevitably becomes reductive if not misleading).

The music of early Death in June, in any case, is nothing more than an honest post-punk, bare and raw as tradition dictates, but already suffused with the tragic atmospheres that will characterize the future artistic production of the band. Torn by an insane noisy attitude (and in some aspects akin to a subspecies of industrial avant-garde, reminiscent of what was done by fellow countrymen Throbbing Gristle), the sound of Death in June is characterized, in line with the iconographic apparatus, by its dark warlike settings, and in particular by the earth-shattering martial drumming of Patrick Leagas, which, in my opinion, will greatly influence the artistic direction the English combo will soon take. Completing the picture is Wakeford's formidable bass (the true rhythmic but also melodic force of the trio), and the introspective Douglas P.'s marching guitar, who also contributes with hand percussion. The three take turns behind the microphone.

The mini album "The Guilty Have No Pride," released in 1983 (after the singles "Heaven Street" and "State Laughter"), represents the perfect balance of these three strong and contrasting personalities, but not yet able to overpower each other. "State Laughter," for example, is undoubtedly Leagas' creation, who takes on the role of singer for the occasion: what emerges, amidst delirious trumpet howls and the usual boastful percussion, is a paroxysm of belligerent noise that anticipates the martial industrial waiting just around the corner. The impetuous "All Alone in Her Nirvana" and "Nothing Changes," on the other hand, are linked to the angry yet decadent soul of Wakeford, who authors a catastrophic and paroxysmal post-punk that already hints at the tragic epicity of his Sol Invictus. Much more interesting, however, are the tracks penned by Pearce himself: the opener "Till the living Flesh is Burned," a paranoid tribal refrain, is destined to become an immortal classic of the band and already seems able to represent the artist's poetics with its harrowing monotony and the use of esoteric symbolism. "Heaven Street," another famous track already present in the eponymous maxi-single of the previous year, is here re-proposed in a dark acoustic version, anticipating the folk dimension that will become the band's standard in the years to come. The dance closes with the desolate arpeggios and restless whispers of the title track, which hints at the scenarios that will soon be explored and find sublime completion in the triptych "A World That Summer" - "Brown Book" - "The Wall of Sacrifice."

Only "Nation," a claustrophobic instrumental with strong wave reminiscences, seems able to unite the three souls of the band. This partnership, as expected, will have a rather short life: Wakeford, shortly thereafter, will leave to find a more complete artistic expression in his Sol Invictus (legend has it, in fact, that he will be expelled from the group for joining the National Party, a far-right party, when in reality it was agreed that band members could not publicly manifest their political beliefs). Leagas, meanwhile, will endure until the monumental "Nada!," after which Death in June will become the expressive vehicle of the sole survivor Douglas P.

I must tell the truth: I really like this "The Guilty Have No Pride." It is certainly still an unripe fruit, and it's undeniable that the real Death in June has yet to emerge in all its originality. Nonetheless, these seven tracks, which mark the beginning of the decline of Wakeford's exuberance and the slow creeping of the ghosts of the more introspective Pearce, offer successful solutions and notable points of interest, especially where, behind the scenes, those distinctive features are already in embryonic stage that will make the Death in June music famous. The three stars, however, are well-deserved, above all to remind us that the best is yet to come…