God and the State
Ruins: The Complete Works of God and the State

THE REVIEW

Whenever a bass-guitar-drums trio is mentioned, God And The State immediately come to mind. They deeply embody, beyond the rock vein, everything else: dark, punk, wave. Noise, sweat, psycho, hints of awareness in avoiding aesthetic vanities of outcast castes. Dated 1983, Happy Squid label (Urinals, 100 Flowers, Radwaste, The Rub), a run of 1000 copies, cover printed by the IPR press: "The record was produced in ten hours, for $200".

The sound is magnificently raw, material, rough, like when plaster falls from the facade of an abandoned building and the bricks are revealed; like when layers of advertising posters, at the umpteenth rainfall, peel their corners from the clandestine wall that hosts them, curling; like when your hands, after applying varnish on a wooden fence, remain streaked with a shiny-brown film for several days; like when you slash a tire by hitting the curb and still go a stretch because you don't give a damn, shredding it completely.

And the journey proposed by our heroes is one-way, paced by that direct bass (Barbara Ann Jaeckel), full, clear, and by that simple drum set (Kevin Barrett), right, delightful, yet how much... And David Hull with his guitar and voice unravels unexpected situations, entangles realities, makes us participants in a sincerity in sharing curious experiences that happen invisibly and parallel to us, explaining everything without sentimental conventions.

A harsh and crystalline sound of an annoying fullness is extracted, which however attracts an occult interest from that immediately underground part of each of us, sweeping away a bit of hypocrisies and bargains where a noise dance bids farewell to the false worries of the hustle and bustle of life's deceptions, opening up to a liberating dive into a well-defined dervish whirlwind for an aggregating sharing of our misfits. And all this without commas.

"God and the State no longer exists, except in these ruins": try it to believe it.