The Alley Cats
Escape From the Planet Earth

The Alley Cats were formed in the '70s and they only released two albums, one of which is an undisputed cornerstone of punk. "Escape From The Planet Earth" (1982) is one of those healthy examples of how authentic rock can move and, above all, make you reflect. Empathy is sought and fully achieved, and it's perhaps the foundation from which to appreciate this album, which is less trivial than it may seem. In the background, we cannot overlook the deadly technique of the band's three members, which certainly doesn't hurt. The punk soul of Randy Stodola and company would make any follower of the modern Pete Doherty blush: melancholic, powerful, angry, sci-fi, gothic, not far in depth from the poetic origins of punk (like Patti Smith, but only for depth, certainly not for execution) but very far from the industrial fury of Detroit (Stooges, MC5) and somehow close to the revolutions that brought reggae into this genre.

The escape from planet Earth attempted by the Alley Cats is unfortunately only metaphorical, just like all of us, they too are forced to stay, but upon this terrible condition—a modern realization of industrial alienation (one of the main themes of the new wave for that matter), the Alley Cats would build a unique and unrepeatable sound. If Pere Ubu used noises, the theater of the absurd, and Ravenstine's minimal and neurotic keyboards to describe modern alienation, Stodola, Dianne Chai, and John McCarthy, more limited by their nonetheless extraordinary capabilities, resort to a sound that has all the technical characteristics of a fresh, aggressive punk but not so much as to be gratuitously provocative, but in reality sounds profoundly dark and introspective.

The only rock moment is in the final solo of Waiting For The Buzz, the rest is Californian punk in the new way, sowing along the way many impressions and ideas that would be taken up by many later bands. The album opens with the title track, Escape From The Planet Earth: one of the most magnificent punk-rock pieces in history. Stodola's voice (rather low, instead of the nervous high-pitched tones of many punk singers of the time) recalls a disillusioned Joe Strummer, often aided in choirs by an exotic Dianne Chai, the vibe isn't one of the most positive, but the music is impressive in its immediacy with incredible expressive power. You can feel the cry of pain, as you can also clearly perceive the patent defeat of the band, we are at the opposite of the surf-punk denunciation of X, lashing out against an intangible and therefore unbeatable malaise.

There's not a piece that leaves you unsatisfied, if anything, there are some masterpieces that clearly stand out among the other tracks. Among these is the extraordinary Night Of The Living Dead, with profoundly gothic atmospheres, the horrific dimension in The Alley Cats is truly blood-soaked and oppressive. Also beautiful is Just An Alley Cat, the usual story of a seventeen-year-old boy who leaves school (and lives his days like a stray cat) but is now immersed in a sound dimension that is a sort of pure punk, devoid of late-generation disco music infiltrations (the almost ignoble "Combat Rock" by The Clash), but its incorruptibility doesn't appear so much from the music as from the spirit that it is visited by (a "Heideggerian" note of questionable value).

An indispensable record, perhaps a little-known masterpiece, but extremely enjoyable and fulfilling.