New Bomb Turks
The Night Before the Day the Earth Stood Still

THE REVIEW

I drop the needle on the record; a few seconds of scratching anticipation (I hear only the sound of the needle itself searching for the initial musical groove) and "sbadabam": I am hit, laid down, knocked out immediately by the title track. One hundred and forty-seven seconds open with the usual clattering advance of a solid but ignorant drum (which knows only one tempo), a guitar stretched to the limit that also takes on noise-like semblances in the song's central solo; and Eric's voice so (dis)graceful, with vocal cords similarly stretched like Jim's guitar strings; a completely unexpected sax, but capable of adding explosive energy to the already chaotic context, makes the beginning of the sixth studio album by the New Bomb Turks something explosive, excessive, overflowing with pure energy. As indeed the band from Columbus, Ohio, has been able to do throughout its wild career.

The Night Before The Day... etc...etc... is the Turks' last album and it's autumn 2002; the following year they would officially end their degenerate and crazy run. Although they do perform a few concerts a year, with a particular preference for our Europe. They passed through once again in 2014 around the Bloom of Mezzago. I remember when I saw them wreak havoc in the small Milanese venue in 1993, with bassist Matt forced every night to borrow a bass, having forgotten his instrument in his native Columbus. An episode that quantifies the absolute disdain and lack of professionalism (but welcome this ignorance given the chaos they managed to create) of the four American guys.

I bought the vinyl for the tour of the album when they stopped to play at Babylonia in Ponderano, province of Biella; it is a horrendous pea green color. The only note, so to speak, out of tune in a work that is a concentrate of Punk'N'Roll that lasts just over thirty minutes; thirteen tracks, a couple of which don't even reach two minutes in length. Playing at breakneck speed, hitting the highest gear and pushing hard; giving everything without introductions, never slowing down: it is the business card that can be perfectly recognized in the supersonic "Rat Feelings" which closes the A-side of the work. Raucous, pounding, chaotic, careless of trends. Raw to the right point, with sound quality that has certainly improved compared to the early nineties. Saying they learned to play is maybe an exaggeration, because technique is truly a word that doesn’t belong to the New Bomb Turks.

I turn the vinyl, with that green hitting me every time, and things don’t change by a whisker: "Leaving Town" and "Sick Sermon" rush by with pleasure; it's the possessed screams of Eric taking the lead, while the sax sets the wild notes of "Constance Keane" on fire. They catch a moment's breath in the more controlled "Like Ghosts"; but the shovel soon comes back in vogue to break the eardrums as in "Ditch".

The reprise of the title track, in a similar Punk-Blues!!! style, closes another super chapter (with at least 99 octane) of this group of "crazy ones".

Diabolos Rising 666.