"I met Jesus and he was full of love
while I was full of hate".

This is how "Someone like Jesus" starts, the cornerstone song of the latest work by New Model Army - "Eight" - after almost two decades of political anthems, guerrilla concerts, and bare-handed rebellion: like grittier and more coherent Levellers; like minor Violent Femmes but enriched with electricity; like the Clash with less talent but more time. 20 years after "Vengeance" and "No Rest for the Wicked" Justin Sullivan lets us know he is still full of hate - some people will not find peace until the grave.

Too much, after all, has changed since the times of "Christian Militia" (the fierce war anthem that made them rebellious and romantic heroes), "Eight" is most likely the swan song, songs that emerged with difficulty in a rather depressed climate after some failed attempts and the growing indifference of the media.
The latter now pick up their pens again, especially due to the presence of "Paekakariki Beach," a ballad full of poetry and disillusionment: "And so I leave the battlefield" - sings the exhausted Sullivan - "across the fumes and I collapse under the morning sun - up there an ocean of birds will continue to fly." On the grave of the New Model Army "Paekakariki" will be the farewell for anyone who happens to pass by there by chance, and "Eight" the testament: 20 years well spent and as far as I am concerned, I am grateful to them.

Nothing is forever and nothing is perfect, however, one can still enjoy the good old school in an "Orange Tree Roads" assault, with its guitars at the forefront; in a "You Weren't There" slow litany about war and the misery of the human soul and finally in the opening entrusted to "Flying through the Smoke," which with its harmonica seems to start folk then turns punk and closes with a roar that approaches metal and it's truly a great listen.
Time passes for everyone and the hate remains, but time passes anyway and no one survives it. There remain a few scattered graves here and there and someone still willing to stop by for a nod.

Tracklist Lyrics and Videos

01   Flying Through the Smoke (03:13)

02   You Weren't There (03:36)

03   Orange Tree Roads (03:56)

04   Someone Like Jesus (06:36)

05   Stranger (03:35)

06   R&R (03:37)

07   Snelsmore Wood (04:14)

08   Paekakariki Beach (04:43)

09   Leeds Road 3am (05:18)

10   Mixam (03:31)

Cassandra's still shouting from the city walls but no one ever hears
And far below the traffic moves like fish upon the ocean floor
to the rhythms of the tide
We're holding on so tight because it seems as if we're moving very fast
But all this speed is just illusion as we while away our lives
Whatever they want from you - you don't have to give
Whatever they say to you - you don't have to give
Whatever they put you through
Fury to the left of me, madmen to the right
And on Caesars Mall seduction is so sweet
It's easy to forget that there's a price on
Whatever they want from you - you don't have to give
Whatever they say to you - you don't have to give
Whatever they put you through

11   WipeOut (04:12)

This is where we go to - to the blue of the ocean
On the 30 westbound to the diamond water
Lost out in the white waves - salt purification
Bright eyes and breathless - this is how Love feels
Wash away the black stuff, wash away the road-dirt
In the thrill of the wipe-out, feel it pulling you under
This is where it saved your life in the days of the new beginning
All the sweet redemption lines that you wrote and told a thousand times
This is where we go to - to the blue of the ocean
On the 30 westbound to the diamond water
On the back-lanes down to the sea we pulled to the side of the road
Danced together in the headlights beam to the songs on the radio
Cheek to cheek . . .

We're up on the cliff tops as the dusk falls and the wind drops down,
the last of the light fading in the sky out to the west;
and far out to sea, the water glows iridescent, perfect, like a promise
of warm water in the shallows, cold water out in the deep,
splashing on my face and rolling over, over, over . . .

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