Swell Maps
A Trip To Marineville

English punk is not all the same.

Perhaps most bands are similar, probably exceptions are quite rare, often those who differentiate themselves do so by emigrating from the original coordinates of "loud, fast and violent", sometimes eliminating one, now the other of the cornerstones that delineate the genre in its primary state (see Fall, Wire or Gang Of Four).

Well, Swell Maps are different... and they are within the most precise punk diktat.

Formed in Birmingham as far back as 1973 by two brothers aged twelve and sixteen raised on bread and New York Dolls, they arrived at their full-length debut in '79, after a series of singles, with this "A Trip To Marineville."

And they are burnt houses and smashed doors, they are vandalized cars and smeared streets, they are the beginnings of the most confusing riots. Nikki Sudden and Epic Soundtracks (these are the imaginative pseudonyms of the Godfrey brothers) are the names to be written in the register of those investigated for this incitement to sonic rape.

The sacrificial victim is a piano, the murderous fingers of Epic slide vehemently over it causing it to shake and vibrate before finally inflicting repeated mortal lashes, the blood splatters on the walls creating abstract artwork while Sudden asks: "Do You Believe In Art?" (H.S. Art is "only" the opening track).

The poor instrument, after being caressed by the likes of Beethoven and Chopin, could never have imagined deserving such a terrible end.

The murder weapon is Nikki's out-of-tune guitar, tortured and flogged since it was young, it now grows deviant and splattered, with a poster of the Stooges above its bed, it immensely enjoys squeezing its strings around the neck that supports the band's most depraved musical ideas and acts as a chaotic diversion during the crime (listen to how "Spitfire Parade" sinks beneath it).

The voice (always Nikki) is the eyewitness, amused and mocking, it doesn't indulge much in terrifying screams, preferring to taunt the victim in a orgiastic and satisfied spoken word (Full Moon In My Pocket serves as an example).

The drums (again Epic) are the most trusted accomplice, pounding with both hands, relentlessly, a blow to the head and one to the stomach, decisive and well-cadenced, without unnecessary virtuosity it guarantees the result and leaves no escape (Midget Submarines is the proof).

The bass (great Jowe Head) is the architect of the plan, burping around the record, it performs the difficult function of compacting the band, destabilizing the sound and giving it a touch of genius at the right moment, versatile and irreplaceable, it is a scoundrel of the worst kind but hats off (listen to Blam! to believe).

A strangling synth, a crazy xylophone, an ecstatic handclap, toy instruments and found noises watch over them, vanguarding the surroundings (the watery surprise of Harmony In Your Bathroom, the incredible random Pere Ubu-style Adventuring Into Basketry).

Infinitely more aware than the average albums of the genre, "A Trip To Marineville" embodies the hidden lucidity behind the teenage English desire to smash the world at the end of the seventies, it is proof that those losers knew very well what it was they were trying to destroy.

Far from being naive, the Swell Maps create the most avant-garde punk work, crooked and insane, sunken in the most cacophonous noise, crossed by continuous sound diversions that do not allow its center of gravity to settle.

For those who love noise and who believe that sonic youth is only a child of no-wave.

Acquitted!