There is something strangely comforting
to me about old school punk. Perhaps it's the notion that I'm not the
craziest young firebrand to have existed, or at least the idea that
all this shit has already happened helps to reassure me that contrary
to appearances I'm not a total fuck up. There is a sense of
overwhelming and in many ways atavistic power to what punk rock
legends Chelsea do on their latest record, the always delicious and
endlessly fun thirteen track masterpiece that is Saturday Night
Sunday Morning.
I
think part of the charm of Saturday Night Sunday Morning
comes in how it really just
reflects a time and a place. It seems to be a product of Britpunk of
the purest vein – but beyond that it has a sense of primeval
beauty. The influences here are pretty clear and straightforward,
there is nothing overtly challenging about Saturday Night
Sunday Morning and I'd even go
so far as to say some of the tracks are predictable – but I mean
that in the best way possible. Chelsea are aware that they are no
longer on the cutting edge, but they're fine with that. They don't
need to be Full Of Hell because they were there generations Full Of
Hell. Instead this is just the sound of a couple of mates having fun
and playing catchy tunes that manage to stick it to the man.
There
is something distinctly English about Saturday Night Sunday
Morning that shows that this is
the kind of record that will keep on rolling through the night. These
guys have a deeper understanding of the genre than almost any of
their peers because they've been doing it longer than just about
anyone. Delving in to what Chelsea do is always a pleasure because
they manage to make anthemic and musically pleasing punk rock that
never strays from beautiful simplicity. Brilliantly composed and
always stripped down, these Brits will always have a piece of my
heart.
Find them on Facebook!
No comments:
Post a Comment