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Rating: I'm in my trusted record store... everyone is watching me... I'm watching everyone... you always try to figure out what album the hopping pink rabbit next to you is about to buy... at a certain point, my eyes fall on the usual monotonous cover depicting an old man, I recognize it's Gianni Morandi, I look up and see a not unfamiliar name... mmm let's see, I've already heard about this band: Million Dead - "A Song To Ruin".
Yes! That little Australian band that landed in England and everyone was waiting eagerly for their album release! After the important nights spent with Cave In, Icarus Line, Alec Empire, etc... I see an acquaintance greeting me, and without returning the gesture, I start thinking... Bah... "Should I buy it? Ask the clerk for info (who, by the way, gave it to me the other night)? Should I shoot myself?"... Many doubts chase me, so I decide to buy it without telling anyone anything, postponing the moment of suicide, expecting the usual copy-paste albums of recent months.
I was wrong: I listen, listen, listen... the album starts with an absolutely destructive and unsettling track: Pornography For Cowards, I keep listening, I'm astonished and put the revolver on the table. The album is melodious but very energetic, full of that energy that when you listen to it on the bus or anywhere else in the filthy city, you desperately look for an old man to verbally attack or possibly slap, every energetic beat revives that Punk Post Hardcore many love but many hate, with frenzied screams and classic punky bass riffs.
All the tracks adhere to the style, unique in its kind, perhaps unique and recognizable to this band; I reach the ballad that carries the title of the album A Song To Ruin with its dark melody and aggressive character...
Frank Turner's distinctive voice stands out in every track, all the songs thus resume the same adrenaline and harmony, but always energetically, as in Mac Gyver, Relentless, The Rise And Fall, and The Kids Are Going To Love It. Every single moment satisfies the listener or the taster with evanescent lyrics, the energy doesn't let you breathe, except in some more melodious and less frantic parts. I turn off the exhausted player thinking about the good purchase and the next concert to attend.
All those who loved the band will not be disappointed, at least I didn't know them very well, and I didn't toss the album down the toilet...
If you want to spend money on Dj Francesco, go ahead, but this album remains a good debut and is worth buying.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
01 Pornography for Cowards (02:01)
Ladies and gentlemen,
Please take your seats
Put on your thinking caps
Now here's a poser for you:
You know sexism?
The social scourge of the sixties
Seen as singularly responsible for a plethora of ills
Well the reaction,
After starting well has moved from the sublime to the ridiculous
Through self-defensive actions of the string-vested interests
So please let's dispense with tired fixations with forms of address,
And with constant vilification of legitimate sexual attraction,
With weak accusations of inverted discrimination,
Because it's getting old
Come on girls, this is weak
Come on boys, gird up your loins
And yes,
I'm no qualified social theorist,
But I've got me a few ideas
I picked up while I was trying to be a human being
I'm amazed - no seriously, folks, I'm really fucking awestruck
Leafing through so called lifestyle magazines, I'm amazed
The beauty industry is just the tip of the fucking iceberg, I'm amazed
The prostitution of dignity for a sense of humor, I'm amazed
The smallest blows against ignorance seen as too much, I'm amazed
And you're afraid
You're cowering behind a bravado built on pornography for cowards!
07 Macgyver (03:28)
it starts with a call, a call from his mother.
sophia says “come quick, MacGyver’s been hurt.
he was just on his way home from saving the world again,
he got jumped by some kids, he went down, now he’s dying.?
so i threw on my coat an ran out the door,
sped through the night to the old hospital,
where the doctors said to wait, so i camped in the ward,
watching the clock as it haemorrhages time so slow.
and i’ve lingered here so long.
the air in here so cold.
the shallow breath so quiet.
the shibboleth of MacGuiver laid bare,
flat on a table, blackened by bruises he couldn’t explain.
and there was nothing he could build
to save himself out of biros and blue-tack.
they opened up his cavities in the operating theatre,
but the doctors couldn’t find a heart,
his lymph glands running motor oil.
his calloused fingers lie inert,
their intricate ability punctured by
the god-shaped hole in adolescent consciousness.
he couldn’t build a bomb to mend the splinters of his broken heart.
his home-made radar couldn’t find a way to make his weapons art.
MacGyver bleeds out all of his rationalism.
isaac newton, your lever is not long enough.
the scottish enlightenment a sinking ship.
so i left the hospital with the bleep of life support machines a memory.
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