Malignant music from Killing Joke. Sounds from a desperate world, where industrial waste no longer allows the sun to shine and where even children have lost their innocence. Who knows what will happen beyond the wall the kids on the cover are fleeing from. A joke that kills? One of the most innovative and extreme bands of the English new wave, Killing Joke will leave with this album an evil seed in the rock world that will germinate multiple times and in various forms in the time to come.
The culprits of all this are Jaz Coleman (vocals and keyboards), Kevin Walker (guitar), Martin Glover (bass), and Paul Ferguson (drums). The twisted minds of the four, and especially Coleman, conceive eight harsh metallic tracks with often convulsive and neurotic rhythms. Killing Joke's debut is dark, immersed in a toxic haze. The tracks exude unhealthy vapors. This sensation is given not only by the abrasive sound of the guitars but by a targeted and strictly functional use of keyboards as well.
Completing the work are Coleman's apocalyptic lyrics. Tracks like "Requiem" and "Wardance" are sculpted in the rock of the era, also noteworthy are "The Wait" and "Complications" in a setlist that, however, is a bit uneven in quality. The four will also go down in history for their live shows. Without them, bands like Nine Inch Nails or Ministry would never have existed, and that must be acknowledged. Five stars for an album that at the age of twenty-four is now a classic.
This album causes chills down the spine, exciting yet penetrating tremors that instill anxiety.
Jaz Coleman, like a heralding archangel, has returned from oblivion not to tell us jokes, but to warn us that the Apocalypse has already begun.
"The album is indeed to be considered on the edge between multiple styles (hard-rock, punk, gothic-rock, electronics) and thus it has a tremendous impact on the generation of new wave and pop bands of the entire eighties decade."
"Like all great records, this one always sounds 'new' and utterly enjoyable. Listen to it to believe."
Ten songs that follow the same claustrophobic and pounding rhythm, trapping us in a room terrified, with bleeding hands over our ears banging our heads against a wall of sound that overwhelms us.
If you need a charge and there’s no orzo bimbo at home, this is the right album, just don’t abuse it or at least don’t drive while listening.