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"No more heroes anymore, no more heroes anymore"
This is the cry, this is the slogan already adopted by a thousand voices screaming it to the sky. It’s 1977 and London burns with its punk anti-heroes, while punk, the movement, begins to scatter into ashes and still incandescent lava that soon would become harmless. New impulses are already on the horizon, new ways of expressing one's being and unease, and perhaps, looking at it today, that London '77 will last no longer than a snapshot. But in that photograph, for sure, are the Stranglers.
The four from Guildford, though not strictly punks, find themselves at the right place and the right time, with all the credentials to ride the fiery scene. Ugly, maybe not, but perhaps "dirty," in the maudit sense of the word, and presumably bad, for the rebellious and sometimes outrageous behavior they exhibit at concerts and especially towards the press and public order. With their debut album "Rattus Norvegicus," they introduced themselves with an almost avant-garde cultured look, certainly aggressive by vocation, but also very melodic and structured, far from formulas made of four chords and some yelling. Just think of those frenzied keyboards that paint songs with splashes of color, the almost prog constructions of the tracks, and that vibrant but discreet guitar that anticipates many new wave sounds. Some even compare them to the Doors, an admittedly reckless comparison, but acceptable insofar as it managed to divert from the image of a "seasonal" phenomenon to convey the idea of a much more complex project.
"No More Heroes," with its cover so mournful yet so alive, hits the stores a few months after the debut. It’s another revelation, an album without pauses that blends with the flow of time and interprets it once again with an original approach, but with much more strength than its predecessor. Whereas "Rattus Norvegicus" had more studio work and refinement, this is not the case for "No More Heroes," which strikes its blows with absolute spontaneity without caring about what the chronicles might say. It’s a rough, energetic, sharp album, at times irreverent if not downright incorrect ("I Feel Like a Wog", "Bring On The Nubiles"), and in essence, it seems very much like a true debut for the Stranglers, as if it was slightly delayed.
There is all the spirit of punk fueling the eleven tracks, but there is also the melody of the guitars and the electronic fantasies of the magical Dave Greenfield reminding us of the depth of their offering. Episodes like "Dagenham Dave", "Dead Ringer", "English Towns" are perfect in their immediacy but reveal a pulsating heart made of rock'n'roll vibration sometimes seasoned with strange funk sensations. Even more distant from the already heard are the hallucinations of "Peasant In The Big Shitty" and particularly "School Mam", a wooden and unsettling dance against the squalid customs of a small-minded society. And then there’s the famous festive "Something Better Change", and then there’s her, the title track, a manifesto, a punk anthem on par if not superior to "Anarky In The UK": three minutes that summarize everything punk wanted or would have liked to express, between rebellion and disenchantment, and at the same time a bridge to a near future that will be made of melody and experimentation. Chords of disarming simplicity (Elastica and many others will thank them), determined vocals, and carousels of keyboards in the background giving the whole an epic flavor, destined to last.
Therefore the Stranglers weren’t born as punks, or not exactly, but this work, with its rebellious, irreverent, provocative nature, makes them true icons of the movement. In this sense, "No More Heroes" remains an absolute milestone for anyone who wants to approach the spirit of those years. Then at the end of the '70s, punk dies, and while its ghost will nourish and continue to live in the collective memory thanks to this and a few other records, the four will have broad shoulders and ideas to spare to continue an honorable career up to our days, proving to be one of the most enduring bands in rock history. "Whatever happened to the heroes?" echoed sternly exactly thirty years ago. Well, you’ll agree now who the heroes are, who somewhere in the world, perhaps right now, are still shouting it.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
01 I Feel Like a Wog (03:16)
I feel like a wog people giving me the eyes
But I was born here just like you
I feel like a wog
Got all the dirt shitty jobs
But everybody's got to have something to do with their time
I feel like a wog
I don't wanna go home
I've got a lot of life to run through
I feel like a wog
I don't mean you no harm
Just don't ask me to shine your shoes
Golly gee: Golly gosh
Don't call me your Golly Wog
Golly gee: Golly gosh
Don't call me your Golly Wog
Let me tell you about Pimpo
We met him down at the After Eight
He wanted to sell us some limbo
But we said mister
You've just got to wait
You've got to wait (x3)
He wanted to take us down to Sao Paulo
But we said mister
We ain't got no bread
I tried to make him laugh
But he didnt get the joke
And then he said I wasnt right in the head
And then he made me (x3)
And then he made me feel
And then he made me feel like (x3)
You know I feel like (x3)
You know I feel like a wog
02 Bitching (04:25)
Bitching 'bout the things we've seen
Bitching 'bout the things we've been
Bitching 'bout the loves we've had
My, oh my it wasn't so bad
When we had that to loosen our minds
Hey little baby in the front row be kind
Bar bitching: telling you the gospel truth
Bar bitching: why don't you all go get screwed?
Bar bitching: why don't you tell me something new?
Bar bitching: Bar bitching
Bitching 'bout the Windsor C
Bitching 'bout the Western Sea
Why can't you all be like a Grainger man?
Or even a Pheland man?
I'll tell you what we'll meet in Amsterdam
Then you'll see what should be really can
Bar bitching: telling you the gospel truth
Bar bitching: why don't you all go get screwed?
Bar bitching: why don't you tell me something new?
Bar bitching: Bar bitching That's what I'm talking about
Got anything to say
No
Well shut up
There's a place with a lot of eyes
Strange smoke perfume around the peacock guys
And the girls they move their heat
To the impulsive compulsive beat
But that's another place another time
Maybe we'll meet there in quite a short while
Bar bitching: telling you the gospel truth
Bar bitching: why don't you all go get screwed?
Bar bitching: why don't you tell me something new?
Bar bitching:
I really don't know what to say
It's gonna happen to us all one day
And when it does you could have me too
But until then I really don't know what to do
I'm just gonna keep
Bar bitching: telling you the gospel truth
Bar bitching: why don't you all go get screwed?
Bar bitching: why don't you tell me something new?
Bar bitching:
Bar bitching, Bar bitching, Bar bitching, Bar bitching
03 Dead Ringer (02:46)
Haven't I seen you somewhere around before?
Haven't I seen you somewhere around before?
Bet you're a dead ringer
Bet you're a dead ringer
Bet you're a dead ringer
Bet you're a conkeroonee stringer
Wasn't it you said you was into changing the law?
Wasn't it you said you was into changing the law?
Wasn't it you running around proud of being poor?
Productivity Credibility Impossibility
04 Dagenham Dave (03:18)
Dave was from out of town
Manchester's likely too
Had read De Sade to Marx
More read than me and you
Scaffolding pays good bread
It pays for drugs and kicks
Dave only had one love
Had no real need for chicks
Dave was so far ahead
But now he's dead
I'm not going to cry
I bet he hit that water high
I guess he lost control
And welcomed in the night
It was too much for him
What were his thoughts that night?
The River Thames is cold
It keeps on flowing on
But it left Dave alone
It just kept flowing on
There's city sickness here
But now he's dead
Late night a street in the west of the city
There was a place there where he lost himself
Strange feelings did he feel there
Strange people did he meet there
Angry sounds did he hear there
Like the howling of bulls
06 Something Better Change (03:35)
Don't you like the way I move when you see me?
Don't you like the things that I say?
Don't you like the way I seem to enjoy it?
When you shout things but I don't care
Something's happening and it's happening right now
You're too blind to see it
Something's happening and it's happening right now
Ain't got time to wait
I said something better change
I said something better change
I said something better change
I said something better change
Don't you like the way I dance?
Does it bug you?
Don't you like the cut of my clothes?
Don't you like the way I seem to enjoy it?
Stick my fingers right up your nose
07 No More Heroes (03:27)
Whatever happened to Leon Trotsky?
He got an ice pick
That made his ears burn
Whatever happened to dear old Lenny?
The great Elmyra, and Sancho Panza?
Whatever happened to the heroes?
Whatever happened to the heroes?
Whatever happened to all the heroes?
All the Shakespearoes?
They watched their Rome burn
Whatever happened to the heroes?
Whatever happened to the heroes?
No more heroes any more
No more heroes any more
Whatever happened to all the heroes?
All the Shakespearoes?
They watched their Rome burn
Whatever happened to the heroes?
Whatever happened to the heroes?
No more heroes any more
No more heroes any more
09 Burning Up Time (02:25)
The Brighton train it goes real soon
My Brighton Belle is in her room
It's burning up time
Burning up time
I wanna burn up while I'm having good times
Don't wanna burn up with other people's bad times
Like a meteor
Like to meet yer
The weekend's here the Finchley Boys
Are gonna make a lot of noise
It's burning up time
You either love or you despise
There's just no time for compromise
The days have gotta move real fast
We know that nothing's gonna last
10 English Towns (02:13)
There is no love inside of me
I gave it to a thousand girls
We build towers of saddened ivory
In our English towns
The dogs they try to possess us
I can hear their anguished cries
They build towers of ivory
In our English towns
I can see their astonished eyes
Look the same in any size
And their secrets are all the same
Seeking pleasure seeking fame
No love in a thousand girls
No love in a thousand girls
11 School Mam (06:52)
A fine day for the classroom and the pupils are here
Timmy's got a headache but the others don't care
Sarah's got to stay behind and help with the drill
Teacher's got his eye on her moves in for the kill
Nobody can see or hear the things that they do
All the books are closed there must be something they do
Only teacher knows about the subjects they span span
Education's secondary - being a school mam
Oooey . . . teacher's doing fine as far as I can see
Being a school mam
Long holidays in the summer
Being a school mam
Free milk in your coffee breaks
Being a school mam
Government paid monthly salary cheques
Being a school mam
Noise is heard the principal investigates
She turns on all the cameras and it's too late
Catches both their pants down in a passion warm
Hasn't seen it happen since the day she was born
Reaches down for glasses that just can't be found
By the time she finds them - why they're down on the ground
Tossing and a'turning they've got feverish hands
Life can be so fluid when you're being a school mam
Oooey . . . teacher's doing fine as far as I can see
Being a school mam
Controlling promiscuity after hours
Being a school mam
Giving out detentions by the dozen
Being a school mam
Give her fifty lines (of speed)
Being a school mam
Sucking on her fingernails can't believe what she's seen
She seems so engrossed at what appears on the screen
Locks her door with trembling hands
Her heart's beating fast she pretends she's down there
On the floor in the class
Gives herself to teacher although he doesn't know
Works herself into a frenzied state and it shows
Sarah's almost at the top but try as she can
She can't reach her helter skelter down with the school mam
Just watch her go and help her try if you can
Use your twentieth century imagination if you've got any
Oooey . . . now she's at the top and teacher sets her free
Being a school mam
Disgusting behaviour
Being a school mam
All over the parquet flooring
Being a school mam
Let the flood gates open wide
Being a school mam
Now the principal collapses dead on the floor
with
Contentment on her wrinkled old face ever more
She went out the very best way that an old woman can
She was where the action was down there with the school mam
Oooey . . . teacher never will discover who could see
Being a school mam
One and one make two if you are very lucky
Being a school mam
Two twos make four if I remember correctly
Being a school mam
Four fours make sixteen and sixteen's over age
Sixteen and sixteen make thirty-two, that's approaching middle age
Thirty-two and thirty-two make sixty-four, that's OAP land
Sixty-four and sixty-four make one-hundred-and-twenty-eight
One-hundred-and-twenty-eight divided by three
Let me pause for reflection for a second
But teacher
Three does not go into one-hundred-and-twentyeight exactly;
but it goes forty-two and a bit;
43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 49. 1, 49.2, 49.3, 49.4, 49.5, 49.6, 49.7,
49.8, 49.9 (X9)
Fifty
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